It's official. My baby is not a baby anymore. My 14-year-old son, Dominick, is a high school freshman. It happened in the blink of an eye. Just yesterday I was carefully assembling his backpack and pinning notes to his shirt. I was the snack mom, cubing his favorite colby-jack cheese to share with his classmates. My refrigerator was covered with assorted glitter-covered construction paper love notes professing "My mom is the best mom because...". I JUST removed the black silhouette of his Kindergarten head, made with the help of an overhead projector and an underpaid teacher's aide. I am grieving, folks.
Dominick tells me that EVERY DAY he is invited to "get high". HE IS ONLY 14, FOR GOD'S SAKE! The girls are getting on birth control. They are surreptitiously making appointments at the STD clinic--yes, they are! The boys are shaving in the morning, and boasting about "getting with" said girls between classes. It's a veritable hormone factory at that school, I tell you! The girls are downright cruel to one another, lifelong friendships forgotten as they compete for boys. And the boys? Too busy worrying about the other boys' sexual orientation and who has the biggest biceps. It's like 1982 on steroids.
This is what our kids with Williams Syndrome won't experience. I think Laura, my sweet, optimistic Laura, summed it up best:
When other mom's are bailing their kids out of jail, I will be home, snuggled on the couch with Ava watching Lifetime movies.