We're going to an Autism Support group tomorrow night.
I hate this part of it. We need to go. It's so important. But...when my little guys are at home, they're just babies. Babies who are a little OFF but really - they're like these really big 2 year olds.
But the short bus pulls back up in front of the house again on Monday,and tomorrow during the day we go to meet the Angel who teaches Autism Special Education Kindergarten. And the reality gets back to rolling that my babies are not quite right, they are in fact in need of help that we don't know how to give them.
So we're going. I think it will be good but sad to meet other people like us, people who UNDERSTAND what we mean when we talk about our children, about our challenges.
But I don't want to go. Every step, the short bus, the special education, the support group - it makes it all real and I hate that. I hate the reality of their disability and it makes me angry and sad just like it's day 1.
My grandfather had a sister who was blind from scarlet fever she got as a child. Her parents kept her home, cloistered from the world. Safe from harm. I used to think that this was unkind of them to do - there was so much she could've done with her life.
But now I understand.
I understand completely.