Red Boots and Cole Haans

From the Random House Anthology: MOMMY WARS by Leslie Morgan Steiner.

Motherhood is not what I expected. I didn’t expect the infinite love I have for my child. I didn’t expect to be a stay-at-home mom. I didn’t expect to have an autistic child.

Every day is what I didn’t expect.

*        *        *

… Wills and I are driving back from his weekly psychologist appointment.  The car climbs up a hilly, congested road.  From the backseat Wills says, "There’s a stomach-wide water shortage back here."
 
I look at him in the rearview mirror.  His new golden retriever puppy sits next to him.  He named her Cowboy Carol Lawrence.  He softly bangs a Nike Velcro tennis shoe on the back of my seat.

"I can’t do anything right now, buddy.  Sorry."

He sighs and rolls down his window, letting the wind blow his thick brown hair off his forehead.  His huge blue almond shaped eyes look as if they’re continuously contemplating the universe from their perch on top of his freckled nose.

"We need to spray 'Traffic Be Gone' out there."

He cracks up at himself.

He has friends who love him.  His friend Emily kisses him, holds his hand and brings him into the circle of children at school.  He does not hug her but he smiles when she gives him a squeeze.  At his request, I ordered a Dinosaur and Fossil Hunt party for his seventh birthday next month.  This will mark the first birthday party where he wants to hear the happy birthday song.

I worry about Wills’ future.  I worry I will never hear him say “I love you, Mommy.”  I worry he won’t be able to read or handle a checking account or live on his own.  Knowing what it means to have given up my own career, I wonder what a lifetime without financial independence will mean for my son. 

And me? I’m glad I stayed home with my son. He needed me, and I needed to feel that I was there for him in a way my mother never was for me.  And once I knew about the autism, the choice was crystal clear. 

I’ll never know what I gave up to stay home with Wills.  But I do know what I would have given up if I hadn’t stayed home.  I would have given up Wills.

Right now he wants water. 

"This is like the Mojave Desert, I’m telling you.  I need rain back here."

"Wills, I can’t move any faster with this traffic," I tell him.  “We’ll be home in ten minutes."

"In ten minutes, I’ll have no body fluid.  I’ll be dust on the seat."

I look again and he attempts to wink at me.  He’s been learning to wink.  I wink back.

He settles back into his seat and hauls the puppy onto his lap.

We are turning down our street when I hear, "I love you, Cowboy."

Maybe I’ll be next.