Crescendo

My son has always loved music, particularly classical.  By the age of three, he was already able to recognize pieces by Mozart, Beethoven and Vivaldi.  He can't sit still when listening to music as his whole body seems to participate with it.  Thanks to his lack of concern about how he might appear, he dances as one would in a house alone without any chance of being seen.  That's a sort of freedom that I envy.

Today was a very volatile and powerful day because it was filled with intense extremes of gratifying pleasure and gut wrenching sorrow and anger.  The beginning of the day was routine (no surprise there since routines are how we survive).  All the children went to school at various times of the day.  By the afternoon, everyone was getting tired and rundown, including me.  I found myself running around like a madwoman at around 3:00 when I realized that I had a ton of work to do because we were going to a rare treat in the evening:  a free concert by the Utah Symphony and the Utah Opera for children with autism and their families. 

From my trying to wash clothes so the boys would have decent pants to wear, buying a tie and shirt for one of my 3 year olds who has been begging for one, cleaning up bathroom accidents, trying to convince one whiny child that he would actually enjoy the symphony, to breaking up numerous fights over sharing a new toy, my calm began to crumble.  Twitching with anger and frustration, I stormed out of the house and into the farthest place in the backyard that I could go after my oldest, the one who is autistic, told me he'd rather stay home and play on his computer.  I was worked into quite a lather and my poor husband tried to talk my crazy self down from my tirade. 

I am not proud of the times that I just lose it, the times when I have just had it.  Here I am taking care of these children day in and day out with only occasional hours of time away and they don't seem to care.  Of course, this isn't fair and isn't accurate but there are times it definitely feels that way.  These emotions are not new to any parent because that's part of the job.  There are times, though, that I can't help but want to quit, throw in the towel, say, "Adios, you little rascals!  It's just a feeling though and not a goal obviously because I love the little buggers no matter how mad I get at them.

So the day reached a crescendo as we were preparing for the symphony.  No irony there.  After my husband convinced me to change yet again into my black dress and heels instead of my mom clothes, we gathered all the kids up, even the whining one who did not want to go, and headed downtown.  I'm glad we did.

As I have said once and I'll say again and again and again, raising a child with special needs is incredibly difficult.  One awesome advantage though is that when things are good, they are bliss.  Tonight, there was a moment when all three of my boys and my husband were sitting in a concert hall with the chandeliers sparkling above us and the orchestra onstage in their tuxedos and dresses and I felt my heart filling with gratefulness.  Our children and our family were accepted in this space without risk of judgment or embarrassment.  We were simply allowed to be us among others like us.  That feeling of ease is so rare for us and, even if it lasts for 1 or 2 minutes, it nourishes all of us more than I could say.

After my 3 year olds decided they needed to go out to the lobby with their daddy, my 5 year old sat with me in the dim lights listening to beautiful music.  He wiggled with excitement as he was filled with the beauty of the music.  At the end beau of each piece, he'd clap enthusiastically and exclaim, "Great job, guys!" or "That was the most beautiful music I have ever heard."  When the music wasn't too loud for his ears (which happened enough that we ended up leaving early because of that), he was so enthusiastic and happy that I found myself crying quietly as I held him tightly.

Although the day had some awful moments, more awful than good if measured in minutes, those few minutes where I held my son and enjoyed the music with him were priceless to me.  It was worth it to lose my bloody mind just so I could see him bask in the beauty of it all as I basked in his.