Normal Kids

I don't have normal kids.  Even if I didn't have some kids with special needs, I don't think my kids would ever be normal.  We're different, and that's okay.  I fought being different for the longest time.  Because, among kids, to be different makes you an object to be spurned and rejected.  Who wants that?  But eventually I learned to embrace what made me different.  And maybe I was never cool, or as cool as I wanted to be.  I'm still not.  But I am happy.  That makes up for a lot.

I don't worry so much for my kids who don't have special needs.  They will struggle, but they will find their way eventually.  And I hope they do so with a lot of help from me.  But what about Ciaran?  What about Liam?  I'm more worried about Ciaran at the moment, since the jury is still out on how severely impaired Liam will be thanks to that pesky encephalocele.  But here is my Ciaran, with all his pieces, growing normally, and yet, so different.  Will kids be able to look past his answering questions with lines from TV shows?  Will they understand when he doesn't get their jokes?  Will they be nice to him even though he is so different from them?

He's not a baby anymore.  And the kids who were playful and sweet a few years ago, won't stay that way forever.  I wonder what names they'll call him, and if it will hurt his feelings as much as it will mine?  I wonder, even as I work on how to encourage socially appropriate behavior, what the world will be like for Ciaran (and Liam too) as they grow older.  I wish I could protect my babies forever.  Sometimes I am both frustrated and sad that I can't.