Open Letter to Parents From a Socially Awkward Mom for September 2017

Hi.

You don’t know me. And if you do, you don’t remember my name. But you do remember that I am a 30-year-old writer and my kid has high-functioning autism because I mentioned  those things first. At lightening speed. You have already seen a lot of her support team; two of her grandmothers so far (yes, there are actually two more), and both her daddy and her papa, and that is a lot of people to see around a child you just met in one week.

And you have seen me. In all of my green-haired, crop-topped, wool-hatted, cartoon glory. Surprisingly enough, only two of you have consistently said hello to me since school started.

Not too surprised actually. But I promise I don’t bite. In fact –

I have no idea how to talk to any of you. How to mingle with you guys and not have a crippling sense of insecurity. Trying to remember what is appropriate to talk about. I have to tone down so much of the extra, I think my spiritual body goes into epileptic shock. I feel like I am the one going to school all over again.

I think in my sobriety and epiphanies over the past year, I am tasting the non-toxic life of the everyday-mom and  the everyday-life that has never before been afforded to me. (More on that as I get everyone up to speed over the next few weeks.) It is like going to a brand new place, even though I have walked these very streets my entire childhood. So when I am forced to stand two feet away from you or less to wait for our children at dismissal, please don’t be alarmed by the suffocated look I am giving you as my tongue begins to retreat behind my tonsils and I choke on air.

Going into our kindergarten year, I look forward with an odd amount of excitement to get this amazing exposure to all different kinds of personalities and families. I am still a child in that regard. In my life, I have come to the conclusion that there will always be a tiny portion of me that is a child. I have gone through a ton, a lot more that I have discovered over the last eight months than I have realized my whole life. That stunted me a tad. But I am okay with that as long as I go forward striving to work out and grow the muscle that is the woman I have become. And as a bonus, my daughter and I share a unique bond because of it.

I just hope that you will all be okay with that too. When I meet you. Eventually. Probably not today. Today is Friday and I’m tired. I am sure you all are, too. It was a large week what with new names and words around the house. Seeing their faces light up when they describe something out in the world that brought them closer to the conscious human experience. They are actually growing. In a week they have ALREADY GROWN.

I guess I don’t think any of us should do it alone. Or use it as a place of judgment or gossip or privilege. I know I am going to try to meet all of you soon enough. I will probably be on every committee by the end of next week because I want to share this. We only do this once and then it’s gone.

Sincerely, Little Old Me Leaning on the Fire Hydrant

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I don’t bite. Unless you are food. You bite food. Silly hooman.

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