Sometimes, as a parent, I get wearier than usual. Many things make me weary, physically, but then I'll have a day that just knocks the wind out of my emotional sails, too. The other night, it was a simple thing, and something that happens every day. I got the kids to bed and ended with saying goodnight to my oldest. I left his room and said, "I love you." I say it every day. More than once. But especially before bed. He didn't say it back. He never does. I'm used to this. It's not his way. I know he loves me.
But the other night, it was too much for me. I felt defeated and broken and just so, so sad. I don't think he's said those actual words to me since he was maybe 3 or 4. Maybe? I don't even know. Whenever they were or were not last said, this time left me emotionally fragile. I don't want to need that kind of validation from my children. The very last thing I want to do, especially as a solo mum, is to ever make my kids feel like they need to fill some sort of void in my emotional life. Yuck. Way to set them up for psych problems later in life. Regular life will mess them up enough on a normal level. Ha!
So I did what adults should do, and I confided my hurt to two trusted friends and I felt comfort enough to move on. It was kind of a blip in the grand scheme of things. But better to deal with it. "Better out than in", as I tell my kids when it comes to their feelings.
And now, for a little back story, so the rest of this spiel will make sense. This past summer, I volunteered at the camp my oldest attended, cooking in the kitchen. Two summers ago, I did this, too, as he needs some assurance from the food end of things, that he's going to get food that is acceptable to him. If you want to know more about that, I'd be happy to talk more about Asperger kids and food sensitivities. Anyway, two summers ago, I didn't really want to be there, but it ended up being such a blessing to be able to minister and pray for the other staff and kids there. I was excited to go back this year. But things have changed and it was not the experience I had before, nor was expecting.
The main staff leaders were extremely young and it was obvious in their leadership styles. This is a camp that many have gone to or worked at for many years. Many, many more than I. And I felt it. I was the outsider. I didn't know the "inside stories" or the people involved in them and there were things that didn't sit well with me. Overall, I felt invisible. I felt like a third wheel in my position and when others in the same role as I were noted for their work, I was not mentioned.
I didn't go for the accolades. Not at all. But it was still difficult to experience. I cried for 3 days upon arriving home. I never expected to feel so awful. And conflicted because my kids love this camp, and we'll likely head back there next summer. But I will also likely steel myself against disappointment.
All that said, my oldest child knew a portion of this story. He knew that I didn't feel great about being there this summer. And tonight, he brought it up and said, "You know how you felt left out at camp? Well, this kid in my cabin said to me, 'You must be happy that your mum is here.'" I asked him if he did (feel happy that I was there). Without hesitation, he said, "Yeah!"
"I love you," he said. I heard it. Maybe not in that form, not those exact words, but he said it. He thought of something, completely out of the blue (we haven't talked about camp in months) that he knew would make me feel recognized and loved and appreciated. And he said it.
I told him thanks for telling me that, that it made my heart happy. And then we watched some intense professional badminton on YouTube, and off he went to bed. Raising an Aspie kid is wearying. Raising kids is wearying. And raising them is joy-filled and funny and comforting and full of love. All kinds of love.
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