I’ve spoken a great deal about milestones with my son Charlie who has cerebral palsy. First day without the tracheotomy. First day without the g-tube. First time he said “Mama” and to this day one of the few full words he speaks verbally. We’ve marked first day of kindergarten, first wheelchair, elementary school graduation—all of it. And it has all felt big and worth marking. But…
I also have two other children, a boy, Jonas, and a girl, Cora, who are twins and they just turned ten. Double digits is a huge thing! It’s the passing of a golden era of childhood –seven, eight, nine – that’s when you wander through the fields looking for bugs and wait at the bus stop with your friends and beg for slushies at the pool and color when you’re bored. Not that the next phase isn’t special too. My daughter just got her first makeup kit and came out of the bathroom looking approximately twenty-seven years older with mascara smudged under her eyes. We paused and did a gentle tutorial.
Time is passing and that is not lost on me, which is why, much as I celebrate Charlie’s leapfrog jumps through life, I wanted to celebrate my other kids as well. This leads me to the Big Promise. We promised both Cora and Jonas that when they turned ten, I would take Cora on a special trip just with me and their dad would take Jonas on a special trip just with him. You can’t make a promise like that and not keep it.
So, the day after they finished fourth grade, I found myself winging my way to the sandy shores of Florida with Cora in tow. Her birthday present was a brand new rolling suitcase. It was pink. She bought gummy bears in the airport and drank a ginger ale on the plane. Already this was “the best trip ever,” according to her.
While in Florida, we swam in the ocean, looked for seashells (there were none!), went on a dolphin cruise that was much boozier than I expected, which made for great people watching if little dolphin spotting. We walked to breakfast every morning and ate ice cream while viewing Barbie, The Devil Wears Prada, and Legally Blonde (all the movies vetoed at home). I braided her hair before she went to bed so she had “beachy waves.”
As we were driving into downtown one hazy afternoon, she looked over at me and said, “I keep forgetting you’re my mom on this trip.” I laughed and asked, “well, who am I then.” She paused and really thought about it, the way only a ten year old can and then said, “You’re my best friend.” Reader, I died a little from happiness.
We came home with matching friendship bracelets and sand in our suitcases and she may remember almost none of this, but I will. It is a milestone for me. And that I why I tell you this story. So many of these milestones, both with Charlie and now with my other two, are natural progressions for them along the winding road towards adulthood. But for me, as the driver of their lives who will one day move to the passenger seat and then, eventually the back seat where I will have to be reminded to buckle my seatbelt and not play with the windows, I want to remember these moments – these firsts that will quickly become “same old, same old” for them. They are big. Let them be big for you as much as for them.
Jamie Sumner is a special needs mom and author.
Jamie-Sumner.com
Author of the middle-grade novels:
