Andy wasn't one to watch much television beyond Barney and Sesame Street. He had to be 4 years old the first time this commercial caught his attention. As the bells began to ring across the screen, he squealed with delight and started to giggle. From that day on, no matter where he was in the apartment, he came plowing towards the television like a bull looking for the matador's red cape. He would knock down his sister, pull down table lamps, and once tipped over his chair during lunch. Nothing could stop him once he caught a note of those bells. He would center himself at the screen and watch the 15 second commercial with awe.
More than once I had to quickly hit mute after bedtime or he would coming running from his room.
We bought bells and left them near the television so he could 'play along' with the commercial. His joy was the same every time. With his big belly giggles and huge smile- he looked....normal. It was a treat to see him so enthralled and focused in his happiness.
But as suddenly as the song ended, the smile faded. He would return to whatever trouble he was pursuing beforehand. The moment was gone. I wish I had the technology back then- that is available to us now. Between DVRs and camera phones, I would be watching that moment over and over again. But perhaps it is better that I didn't have the ability to capture that moment. I think I would be stuck...
Every parent wonders "what if?" "How would he/she look if they didn't have________?" That commercial was the first glimpse of what Andy could have been. He had been diagnosed only a few months earlier. I was busy trying to make him blend into some definition of normal, desperate to crack open his shell and break down the walls of autism.
It is a very hard habit to break- the habit of wishing for something else. Wanting something better. Wondering if it will ever get better. Praying for a miracle.
Slowly I started to push past the wishing and hoping. I moved toward celebrating the small steps forward and forgetting the numerous steps backwards. Andy was Andy, Mike was Mike. Their future wasn't written in stone and thrown into the ocean.
Although I would love to see that little boy standing in front of my television set every time the Hershey Kisses start to play- I have come to terms with my "what ifs". I've moved on to "My god, look at them now!" I am content with my memory, I'm happy with what my boys have become.
But now when that stupid commercial comes on...BAM- I'm thrown back in time- wishing and wondering- for just a moment. It is easier to cope as the years move past me. I know I used to cry quietly the first few years this commercial played. It was painful those next few years because the commercial never captured Andy's attention again. Now, it just triggers my mind's eye. It is 1996 again and I almost reach for the mute button so bed time won't be disrupted.
I wrap myself in the goodness of what it is- a great moment featuring Andy.
Moral of the story- enjoy this time if you are graced with a special needs child. Try to hold on to the good memories, let go of the bad ones. Difficult moments will seem to outnumber the great ones- until one day you will find a way to cope as you look back. I perfer to see the humor. It may take decades to master- but the world is a much better place to be in when you focus on Hershey Kisses and belly laughs rather than diagnoses, backward steps and definitions of normal.
Oh barta you are my heart =)
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