It’s the last week of school and I am picking Ben up. After not so patiently waiting for him (I
hate the pick-up circle) I spot him running across the courtyard with his
garbage bag stuffed with dirty gym clothes he finally cleaned out of his sports
locker (seriously gross.) He pops open the back of the van, throws in his
backpack and dirty laundry then yells to me, "I still need to go to the
nurse's office to get my stuff."
As he runs off again, I slowly move the van up to the front
of the pick-up line and continue my game of Candy Crush. Before I can finish my next level, Ben is in
the back seat. He throws me the sheet of paper with his daily BG log and
says, "Let's go."
I
put the van in drive and before I can say anything annoying about his BG
log, Ben announces, "Mom, this was my best school year ever!"
This surprises me a bit because this past year was Ben's first year in the
middle school and it wasn't a year without its challenges. I ask, "Really? Why do you say
that?" Then I tease, "It's certainly not because you did so
well in Math."
He laughs and says, "No. It's not because of that … my grades.
It's because this is the first year everyone stopped asking me questions.
No one asks me about my pump or why I have to go to the nurse. This year
I just was ... I just was one of them."
I’m a little stunned. I wasn’t expecting that.
Jeff and I fought so hard this year. We fought the school for more independence
for Ben. We fought our own fears, allowing
him to go on more sleepovers, letting him walk to the center of town after
school to have pizza, and all the while managing his diabetes on his own. And it was tough (so tough I couldn't even blog about it.) Jeff and I butted heads at times, because it
was scary, like very, very, very scary, but maybe it was all worth it.
My heart swells, "That makes me so happy."
I am watching him in the rearview mirror. He is looking out the window smiling at his friends who are horsing around still waiting
to be picked up and he says, “That makes me happy too.”
