The Kevin Chronicles: How Do You Feel About Your Son?

Oz The Great and Powerful wasn’t that great a movie. Sorry James Franco. One cold Friday night back in 2013 it started raining and by Sunday morning it still hadn’t stopped. Chris and I had a choice: strangle all 3 of the kids, or go see Oz the Great and Powerful. We heard it wasn’t that great, but it was the only kid-appropriate movie playing, and murder is illegal. Though the movie was kinda boring, I will be forever grateful to the screenwriters, David Lindsay-Abaire and Mitchell Kapner, for gifting me the words I didn’t know I needed, to describe how I feel about Kevin.

By the fall of 2013 we had Kevin’s aggression pretty much under control, but he was still struggling to interact with his regularly developing peers. At the recommendation of his behaviorist, I signed him up for a social skills group. It was in the waiting room of Interactive Kids in Marlton that I met some of the finest members of “The Club” available on the market. Even on the days I spent the whole ride having juice boxes hurled at my head I was excited to go, just so I could talk to these great ladies, most of whom has sons with autism. We cried, laughed, shared ideas and horror stories, and just gabbed like teenagers. One day, I got to the office and there was just 1 boy there for social skills group besides Kevin. Apparently, some monsoon of a stomach virus had blazed through Marlton and taken out half the school aged population. “No worries!” said his goddess of a teacher. “We’ll work on their conversation skills!” And off the three of them went. When I turned back to talk with my waiting room pal, I noticed she looked very sad. “Are you alright?” I asked. “Tough ride in.” she replied. “I know how that can be.” I said. And then she asked a question I had never been asked before and had no clue how to answer. “How do you feel about your son?”

I don’t remember what I said exactly but I know my answer was not at all helpful, and I felt bad about that. I always feel bad when I’m unable to help a fellow member of “The Club” because we all need all the help we can get. And I wasn’t holding back, I just didn’t have the words to answer her, because how I feel about Kevin changes from day to day, hour to hour, and sometimes minute to minute.

Kevin’s at play practice right now and I’m told his portrayal of the squirrel is Oscar worthy so today, I feel proud.

The night he defecated on the floor and spread his shit on the walls, I hated him. As I shampooed shit out of my carpet, and wiped it off my walls, I found myself wishing he had never been born. I felt awful.

For the most part Kevin speaks in short, 3 word sentences. “Mommy buy milk?” “Make me sandwich?” But sometimes I get 6 and 7 words sentences, like this morning when he asked, “Mommy make farina for me please.” When this happens, I feel hopeful.

About a week ago we were in the mall. As we passed the MAC counter Kevin asked me to buy him lipstick. When I said no, he knocked an entire display of perfume off the counter and it all went crashing to the floor. As I helped the MAC personnel clean up the mess, amidst a sea of judgmental faces, I felt embarrassed.

Up until this year, Kevin has always had a one on one aide at school. For non-Club members, a one on one aide is an adult who follows you around all day at school, discreetly wipes your drool when you’re concentrating, and politely asks the regularly developing children to pick you as a partner at gym. But this year Kevin decided he does not require a one on one aide. Every time the poor woman tried to escort him to class, he would tell her, “You stay here. I big boy. No need you!” And head off to class by himself. When she showed up at gym, he communicated that her services were no longer required by putting her in the "time out" chair. Then he walked away and asked a regularly developing peer to be his partner. Well his aide and his teacher got the hint, and last week we all decided that Kevin no longer requires a one on one aide. I am very excited about this.

What I told my waiting room friend in 2013 was accurate: my feelings about Kevin fluctuate, but thanks to Oz The Great and Powerful, I can now communicate how I truly really feel about my son regardless of the day, hour or minute.

Here’s a summary of Oz The Great and Powerful: James Franco plays Oscar Diggs, a deceptive magician who arrives in OZ accidentally and encounters Glinda. She has been anxiously awaiting his arrival because she believes that Oscar is the long awaited Wizard, whom legend has foretold will restore order in Oz. Anxious to finally be someone of importance, Oscar jumps at his new found destiny (and nifty new title) and tries to be the Wizard everyone has been waiting for. A long, boring hour later, Oscar has screwed everything up and made Oz worse than it was before he arrived. It takes him awhile to realize this, but when he does, Oscar is truly remorseful and apologizes to Glinda, for being such a huge disappointment. And this is the part where (for obvious reasons) I perked up a bit and started paying attention. In the face of Oscar’s realization that he is a huge disappointment, Glinda smiles reassuringly and says, “Well, you’re not what I expected, but you’re here.” And these words, with all the force of a speeding train, slammed into my heart and left me breathless. I was so overcome by emotion I started to hyperventilate and had to leave the theatre. I walked to the end of the hallway and collapsed on the floor in a sobbing heap. Moments later I felt a gentle tap on my head. It was Kevin, and the conversation went a little like this:

Me: Yes Kev I’m OK.

Me: Yes Kev I’m crynin

Me: Well I was. I thought I was. Sometimes I am but I guess I’m not. I didn’t realize it until now but I’m guess, deep down, I’m not.

Me: Because (sob sob sniffle sniffle) you’re not what I expected, but you’re here.

Kev: Come back movie now?

And the two of us, hand in hand, walked back into Oz The Great and Powerful, only this time he sat in my lap and brushed my face every few minutes to make certain I wasn’t crynin.

To this day, every time we go to the movies, even during hysterical movies like Hotel Transylvania, at some point, Kevin will get up to check on me.

Me: Yes Kev I’m OK.

Me: Nope, not crynin.

And then he touches my eyes in the dark just to make sure.

Me: I know you are sweetheart. I know you are.

Dear friend whose name I don’t remember from the waiting room at Interactive Kids in Marlton,

I hope you’re reading this. I’m so sorry I couldn’t give you the words you needed 2 years ago, but at the time, I honestly didn’t have them. I have them now. You asked me how I feel about Kevin. Here is my answer: Kevin is not what I expected, but he’s here. We have great and terrible days but he’s here, and he’s mine, and I love him.