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And so here\u2019s mine. It seems as if the moment my kid hit 13 the teens hit full force. The defiance, the arguing, the overall surliness.<\/p>\nAnd so here\u2019s mine. It seems as if the moment my kid hit 13 the teens hit full force. The defiance, the arguing, the overall surliness.<\/p>\n
And, well, if I\u2019m being honest, I thought it was going to be one of those deals where my kid, while still\u00a0totally socially appropriate, would still find me amazing and cool and, despite being busy with friends and outings and Boy Scouts, would want to jump in the car the moment I say, \u201cHey, who wants to the grocery store and crash the free sample table!\u201d<\/p>\n
Every single little dream there? Lost. We\u2019re not talking by a little. We\u2019re talking epic defeat. For one thing, my kid is far from winning any social awards at school. Oh, he has a bunch of friends, but they\u2019re kind of like him\u2026 a bit on the wacky side\u2026 a little bit clueless on the when girls like them side. (Yes, Stink, if she remembered to call you on your birthday, buy you a gift, buy you a Christmas gift and ask you to teen night, there just might be some interest.<\/em>) Stink and his friends are like oversized male children with skinny legs, crazy fros and a scent that can only be described as a cross between testosterone\u00a0and Axe.<\/p>\n The difference between him and his other friends, however, is that I can\u2019t make out\u00a0their<\/em> duck quacks from across a crowded parking lot. When they roll their eyes, I know it\u2019s because they are being sassy and not because Mr. Flappy Lid has made his appearance again. When his buddies nod, it\u2019s to mean \u201cyes\u201d or \u201cno\u201d, and not the head jerk prodigal son making his triumphant return. (No, I\u2019m not having a banquet for these returning relatives. But if I did, you could bet it would be gluten and dairy free.)<\/p>\n Stink\u2019s tics \u2013 the loud ones \u2013 are back. And this time, they are stronger than before. (Gosh darnit, Taurine, you let me down again. You\u2019re like that bad boyfriend. Just when I think I can trust you, you leave my sorry butt in a heap of despair!)<\/p>\n Here\u2019s the thing, though: my kid, like his eyes, just roll. He doesn\u2019t see them as a problem. They don\u2019t make him different or geeky or less than. It\u2019s simply something he does, not who he is.<\/p>\n In my brain, this should be enough. But in my heart, I still die a little bit. As a mother of a kid with this wonky disability, I fight so many demons:<\/p>\n I had a good cry last night. I mean, a good one.<\/p>\n Me: Stink, I\u2019m so sorry. I just suck sometimes. I feel so bad for yelling at you about that noise.<\/p>\n Stink: Mom, it\u2019s okay. (Quack quack) I forgave you already! I don\u2019t keep resentments!<\/p>\n Me: I know, but I feel awful. I just love you so much. I don\u2019t want to ruin you.<\/p>\n Stink: Impossible!<\/p>\n Me: Well, thank you. And hey \u2013 I promise \u2013 I am not going to ask you to stop ticking again.<\/p>\n Stink: Also impossible! (He\u2019s right. Now I\u2019m really sobbing.) It\u2019s okay to cry, Mom. You got to let it out. (He farts.) Ahhh\u2026 it just feels better to release, you know?<\/p>\n I swear, the noises from that kid never stops. But his biggest ticker is his heart. I\u2019m grateful.<\/p>\n And so, once again, I am saying it here: I am determined to not get so wound up on tics.<\/strong>\u00a0But I can\u2019t do it on my own. I just can\u2019t.<\/p>\n Dear God, get in the car and hang with me. Don\u2019t drive like that Jesus Take the Wheel Song. That would creepy to see a long haired dude in a tunic driving my stinky SUV. But be with me. I need the support. Andrea. PS: I hope you can handle Cheeto crumbs and Country Music.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n Yup, when I give it to God, there\u2019s just so much more perspective.<\/p>\n This morning, after a little praying, it dawned on me that I might not ever accept this disorder. I can, however, accept that it\u2019s sometimes just hard. The reality of what is<\/em>, not what I want<\/em> it to be, was not always my first choice toward serenity, but it sure as hell makes for a more a more peaceful reality. I can do something<\/em> with reality. I can fill bad days with joy. I can walk away from yelling at my kid and stroll in the sunshine instead. I can write. I can pray. I can help another mom who is suffering. (Write me, moms! HappilyTickedOff@Gmail.com<\/span>).<\/p>\n When God\u2019s at the center of my problem, not my misery, I can relax. I can remember that it\u2019s not my job to make my son disability-free. It\u2019s my job to love him. And boy, do I.<\/p>\n Final Thoughts<\/span><\/p>\n Tonight I took a break. It had been a long day of working and cooking and kid pick-upping and homeworking. Instead of sitting at home counting tics doing more Ebay listings, I went with my daughter to a YMCA banquet. She was one of 3 asked to perform for a fund raising event.<\/p>\n Playing Wendy in an upcoming Peter Pan<\/em> show, she put on her yellow Mary Janes with white ankle socks. She stood straight, hair in bun, and spoke in a sweet British accent, \u201cShe\u2019s the person who kisses you goodnight\u2026\u201d and then she sang\u2026 \u201cyour mother and mine\u2026 your mother and mine.\u201d<\/p>\n She went on to sing, \u201cMothers tell stories\u2026 they often do\u2026 what you can\u2019t do\u2026 mothers can do.\u201d<\/p>\n Raising my kid with Tourettes isn\u2019t unlike my daughter getting up on stage, singing in front of hundreds. I get to hide my fear with my poker face. I get to get dressed every morning (the bun is optional) and I get to sing my heart out because the lights shining on me. And maybe, at the end of the day, my son will remember his mother who loved him enough to write a book, to pen a blog, and hopefully help a few others out there not feel so alone.<\/p>\n \u201cMothers tell stories, they often do, what you can\u2019t do, mothers can do.\u201d<\/p>\n Moms, you can do it. You can. And worse case, if your day is hard, consider climbing into bed with your family \u2013 tics and all. You\u2019ve got one childhood to tell a good story. (Pssst: You are an amazing hero in this story. Give it a good ending!)<\/p>\n Until next time, May God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you cannot change, the courage to change the tics you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.<\/em><\/p>\n My book is available on Amazon.<\/a>\u00a0Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on FB<\/a>.\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\nBoy Scouts<\/del> He doesn\u2019t do uniforms.<\/p>\n\n
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This post dedicated to Denise, who always seems to show up when I need it most. I am grateful.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n\n\t\t\t \n\t\t\t <\/div><\/div>\n\t\t