I looooove Saturday mornings...sleeping in, no early morning kid activities, and long leisurely breakfasts in my jammies with my hot off the presses, just delivered on Friday, People Magazine. My little piece of heaven. So, when I have to get up early on a Saturday, I am not only tired from celebrating the arrival of the weekend by watching three back to back episodes of Breaking Bad until the wee hours of the morning, I'm grumpy too. "The early bird gets the worm", so goes the old proverb, but, this past Saturday, Ryan and I weren't going for worms (I could just hear his annoyance at such a stupid saying), we were embarking on a 45 minute road trip with a quick stop at Dunkin Donuts. Here's the thing, Dunkin Donuts makes donuts ALL DAY LONG. Oh sure, they want you to believe that their donut baker lumbers out of bed with the early bird while moaning, "Time to make the donuts" so you feel rushed to be the FIRST ones in line for the freshest, choice donut, but, it's all a scam. You can be the late bird and still score a tasty, trans fat and cream filled donut.
Ryan was about as thrilled as I was with the early morning Saturday change in routine, so instead of telling him the "early bird gets the worm" (eyes roll), I told Ryan the early bird gets the choice donut. Yeah, I'm as big of a phony as the "time to make the donuts" guy. Ryan whined, complained and stumbled out of bed and refused to brush his teeth because it would "ruin" the taste of the coveted donuts (he popped in a piece of gum after the donuts which I know a dentist would not approve of as a toothbrush substitute). Before we headed out the door, I was ordered to fill Ryan's Thermos with Welch's Grape Juice because my boy's elephant memory, recalled that Dunkin Donuts does not have Welch's Grape Juice and that their orange juice has pulp in it (the horror). We early birds, were so early, Ryan and I even had time to go inside Dunkin Donuts and peruse the plethora of choices rather than risk a donut catastrophe at the drive thru. Once we recovered from the near meltdown that took place when my early bird spied the strawberry iced donuts being placed on the shelf after our order was placed, bagged and paid for (clearly when it was "time to make the donuts" the strawberry iced ones weren't at the top of the old, tired baker's list), we were on our way, to our real destination.
Ryan loves a road trip, and I love having him in the passenger seat next to me (even though I stress a little because I know he is safer in the back, but, now that he is 12 and the law says he can ride up front, there is no going back...figuratively and literally). Quality time, just the two of us, enhanced with a little donut sugar high. I tried for a while to chit chat, but, after being grunted at numerous times, I gave up and was equally happy listening to my boy singing, scripting and laughing at whatever show he was watching inside his head. In that moment, I sort of related to that early bird and his successful worm hunt, although I was tired and longed for my leisurely breakfast while happily admiring Matthew McConaughey in a black tuxedo (sorry Matthew, the white was a little too Saturday Night Fever for me) in People, maybe getting up early, really did enable me to score the coveted worm.
Although I was enjoying the morning, I didn't get out of bed early and leave the Oscar predictions in my latest People Magazine sitting on the kitchen table for Dunkin Donuts. Nope, our destination was a Music Festival at a local college for piano students. This was Ryan's first time attending so I had no idea what to expect and for a boy who likes a plan and struggles with "new", he didn't know what to expect either. Ryan's fabulous piano teacher had written out a schedule for him instructing him when to be where. First up on the list, was a workshop on the Progression of Left Hand Accompaniment Patterns. What? I made Ryan LOL, even though he shushed me with embarrassment, when I did my best Charlie Brown's teacher impersonation. I am completely illiterate when it comes to anything music, so this professor's "wah, wah, wah, wah, wah", was like a foreign language to me. I tried to pay attention, but, after Ryan moved two rows in front of me, not because I was such an embarrassment to him, but, because the professor told him to (although, I'm sure he was relieved to put some distance between himself and his musically inept mother), I found my mind start to wander.
As I sat waiting for the workshop to end, I began to worry about Ryan's "adjudication" on his piano skills which would be next. Ryan would be judged on various piano playing skills while in a room...alone...without me. As my anxiety began to escalate, awaiting this so called, "adjudication", I couldn't help but recall a different type of adjudication that I regularly attended as a juvenile probation officer. Waiting for a judge to make a different kind of adjudication for a different kind of kid. As a juvenile probation officer, it was my job to provide testimony to the court about the juvenile who stood next to me. I couldn't help but compare my role as a mother whose job it was to protect, advocate and fight for my child being that much different, yet, I struggled with whether or not Ryan would object to my testimony or if the judge would find my testimony relevant.
I wondered, if at this adjudication for my child, do I present the facts...all the facts, or do I let Ryan take the stand on his own without my testimony? Will Ryan incriminate himself when he doesn't make eye contact with the judge? Will the judge think Ryan is rude if he forgets to say, "thank you" or ignores a question the judge asks that has nothing to do with the piano? What if Ryan drops his paper and refuses to pick it up because he hates the feel of paper? Will the judge think Ryan is not taking his adjudication seriously? Will Ryan's flat out refusal to put on a name tag because stickers have caused him anxiety since he was two, make him appear defiant? If Ryan refuses to take his coat off because the hot air blowing from the vents makes his skin feel dry and scratchy, will the judge think Ryan has no respect for the Music Festival, the adjudication and the piano itself? There was a whole lot going on in my scary head for a 45 minute piano workshop.
I wondered, if at this adjudication for my child, do I present the facts...all the facts, or do I let Ryan take the stand on his own without my testimony? Will Ryan incriminate himself when he doesn't make eye contact with the judge? Will the judge think Ryan is rude if he forgets to say, "thank you" or ignores a question the judge asks that has nothing to do with the piano? What if Ryan drops his paper and refuses to pick it up because he hates the feel of paper? Will the judge think Ryan is not taking his adjudication seriously? Will Ryan's flat out refusal to put on a name tag because stickers have caused him anxiety since he was two, make him appear defiant? If Ryan refuses to take his coat off because the hot air blowing from the vents makes his skin feel dry and scratchy, will the judge think Ryan has no respect for the Music Festival, the adjudication and the piano itself? There was a whole lot going on in my scary head for a 45 minute piano workshop.
This battle going in my psyche came to a standstill when I watched Ryan practice in a sound room minutes before his adjudication. It was then that I decided not to hang my kid out to dry (he would have assured me he was not wet). I decided that if I don't want a label to define Ryan, even when his quirks and social struggles make him stand out, then I can't define him with that label at every turn either. There are times when The A Word, has to be mentioned...at a 504 Plan Meeting with school officials, at the dentist office when they realize total sedation will be necessary to fill a cavity (or three), at the pediatrician's office when a strep test is necessary, or at the hair salon when it's a new stylist, but, not at a piano adjudication. This was not because I didn't want Ryan to do well. It was not because my lack of interest in music minimized the importance of music to my son. The reason I let Ryan take the stand on his own was because unlike those courtroom adjudications when my words were needed to describe the juvenile standing before me, my words were not needed before a judge in a sound room. Sharing words....sharing The A Word, was unnecessary because this was music and music is one place where Ryan's quirks and differences disappear into the ivory of the keys.
I wished Ryan luck, although I knew it was not necessary, and Ryan walked past me, piano books in hand, a smile on his face and no name tag whatsoever. As I heard the judge greet Ryan, Ryan mumbled a monotonic, "hello", then he quietly closed the door and left me to wait on the other side. This was new for me, being on the other side of the door, not being Ryan's voice. Although I trembled with nervous energy, I had never been more proud of my son. As I listened through the door, frustrated that I didn't bring a cup to hold against the door to enhance the sound (AWEnestly people, I can't cut the cord completely), I did not hear Ryan speak in his British accent scripting Stampylonghead in a diatribe about Minecraft, I did not hear Ryan stumble over his words with his sometimes "cluttered" speech and I did not hear Ryan complain about the heat blowing out of the vents. All this spying, worried mom heard, was the beautiful sound of Ryan's fingers finding the right chords, timing his intervals and "expanding the use of the keyboard" as Ryan's label, his quirks, his differences, dissipated with each beautifully played note.
I all but fell into the room once Ryan finished and opened the door, and I quickly and discreetly wiped away my tears so Ryan wouldn't reprimand me for being "too proud". Ryan bounced out of the room and said, "That judge guy was AWEsome and he said I did great!". In fact, "that judge guy" gave Ryan the highest marks, "superior", in every category with the exception of one "excellent". Clearly, Ryan did not need my testimony, the facts of who he is and what he is capable of, were evident without any input from me. I did not need to share The A Word with the judge who adjudicated my son because he did not need words or a label to see Ryan's ability. There will always be times when Ryan's quirks will make me want to quickly defend him by throwing that A Word under the bus, but, more and more, Ryan doesn't need excuses, labels, or me defining him. Ryan is finding his own place in the world, and as he has told me time and time again, "I don't feel different, I just feel like me."
This is one early bird, who is so glad that my love of sleep, a late breakfast and a date with People Magazine did not cause me to miss the worm. Not because I wanted the fattest worm or the choice donut, but, because I got to spend a day with someone who constantly puts the AWE in AWEsome. Someone who will never let a label, a judge or even his mother, define him. Some days it takes me longer to wake up than others. This past Saturday, even with my donut sugar high, it took me all day to wake up, but, when I finally did, I realized that even a full page spread of Matthew McConaughey playing strategically placed bongos in People Magazine, takes a back seat to the wonderfully gifted piano player sitting in the front seat next to me.
This is one early bird, who is so glad that my love of sleep, a late breakfast and a date with People Magazine did not cause me to miss the worm. Not because I wanted the fattest worm or the choice donut, but, because I got to spend a day with someone who constantly puts the AWE in AWEsome. Someone who will never let a label, a judge or even his mother, define him. Some days it takes me longer to wake up than others. This past Saturday, even with my donut sugar high, it took me all day to wake up, but, when I finally did, I realized that even a full page spread of Matthew McConaughey playing strategically placed bongos in People Magazine, takes a back seat to the wonderfully gifted piano player sitting in the front seat next to me.
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