My kiddos have entered 1st grade, and while it’s
not as sweet as kindergarten, I continue to be thankful for the fabulous school
and the educational support team for Sylvie.
Watching Sylvie’s twin sister navigate the world of 1st grade
friendships, however, has been an exercise in patience and fortitude on my part
as a mom. I admittedly get nervous and a bit protective hearing about my
daughter’s recess and lunch navigations with her peers. I feel sad when her old best friend has found
someone else to play with. I try not to
take it personally, but watching these childhood negotiations conjures up all
kinds of memories of my own childhood.
A couple of years ago, I resigned myself to the fact that
Sylvie may never have deep friendships with her peers, although she has plenty
of good people who love and care for her.
She has classmates who like to walk with her or make her laugh. For this I am grateful. Increasingly though, I worry about Sylvie’s
twin sister. It’s not that I don’t think
she can make friends, because I’ve watched her do so. And so far, nobody has made fun of her for
having a sister who doesn’t walk or talk.
The girls’ school has done a fabulous job at talking about diversity and
difference, and Sylvie is part of that mix.
But people are wacky: we say
things that are mean; we are ignorant or say the wrong things when we don’t
know better. I try to surround our
family with other families who know Sylvie, and embrace her difference. Uma and her parents need that support as much
as Sylvie does—perhaps even more so.
Increasingly, I’m noticing how difficult it is for me, as a
mom with a special needs kiddo, to make my own new friends. I have a strong
cadre of really great pals around town, and I’m not seeking to replace
them. As working adults, many of whom
have kids of their own, it’s hard to find time to dedicate to adult playing and
connecting. I work too hard, trying to
stay above the poverty-line and maintaining some semblance of a successful career. When I meet potential new friends, there’s a
whole lot of explaining and background history to give about my family
situation. If I don’t call back right away, it may because I’m dealing with yet
another medical crisis or lacking childcare.
If I don’t say “yes” the first time, it’s not that I’m uninterested. If
I am the one who is calling a lot to initiate a new friendship or getting
together for a meal or a cup of tea, it’s not out of desperation. I appreciate
when others take the initiative and keep asking me to do things, again and
again. Parents who have neuro-typical kids cannot even begin to imagine our
daily sagas, and I appreciate those adults who just show up at our doorstep—for
meals, quick chats, check-ins, play dates, or dropping off cookies. It’s
probably why I find some solace in Facebook as my daily mind candy as it allows
me some peripheral connection with family and friends. I need friends to help me push through my
patterns of isolation. And I want to
model to my daughters that making friends and maintaining friendships is a
lifetime endeavor. Friendships take honesty, reciprocity, dedication, time, and
creativity. What they are learning in 1st grade
may be the building blocks for their future lives.
Channeling Bill
Withers, I believe his words best reflect what I hope I teach my children
about friendships:
Lean on me, when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend
I'll help you carry on
For it won't be long
'Til I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on
Please swallow your pride
If I have things you need to borrow
For no one can fill those of your needs
That you won't let show
And I'll be your friend
I'll help you carry on
For it won't be long
'Til I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on
Please swallow your pride
If I have things you need to borrow
For no one can fill those of your needs
That you won't let show
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