W, Teen Vogue, and New Territory
This week a fuschia envelope arrived in the mailbox, addressed exclusively to “W,” inviting her to sign up for a year’s worth of Teen Vogue and I thought W? Our W?
Teen Vogue you’ve got this girl all wrong. This girl is into dirt and butterflies and sap samples. She loves books and her microscope kit. I have to remind this girl to brush her hair every morning before she leaves our house or else she won’t do it. Her mind is nowhere near fashion, beauty, and celebrities. This girl doesn’t even have her own cell phone. She’s turning 11 this week.
But Teen Vogue’s calling card made me realize that things are changing. W starts middle school this week. MIDDLE SCHOOL. And this little girl I know now will have a whole new academic, emotional, social, and physical (shudder) dynamic to deal with.
And of course there’s the autism dynamic.
I’m nervous. This is new territory. J and autism–it’s all W’s ever known. Six weeks after she was born she was right there with J in early intervention preschool, speech, occupational therapy. First in her car seat, then propped up as a six month old sitting next to him on his carpet square, toddling down the halls of his early intervention school, later as a peer model in that same classroom.
Autism has affected every single one of us in this family. But I think it’s affected W the most. Steve and I have lived the majority of our lives without ever knowing a thing about autism. W has lived with it every single day of her life.
I ask her about it a lot. I ask her if she feels like she gets enough attention from us, because I know she doesn’t. She assures me that she’s fine–that hanging out with just me would be nice sometimes, but “I know that J needs more help than me.” I ask her if she gets embarrassed about J. “Sometimes,” she says. But she’s always the first one to come to his defense. Like if some stranger at the grocery store criticizes something J does. “People just need to get over the things he does,” she tells me. “People just need to know what autism is.”
I admire her. A lot. The way she bounces back so quickly if J ruins her crafts, licks the brownie batter bowl before she’s gotten a chance. She doesn’t stay mad very long if we have to leave a movie theatre, or some other fun activity early if J has a meltdown. Most of the time she has more patience with J than I do.
And now, I think their paths are going to diverge. She’s going to experience middle school fully in all its gore and glory in ways that J doesn’t always understand. W understands everything. She notices every little look, glance, sigh, social cue around. These next few years are going to be exciting and terrifying at the same time. We’re all going to be figuring this out together.
So Teen Vogue, give us a few years. This girl has a ton of stuff on her plate. Don’t make her grow up too fast. In fact, there are times where I wished she didn’t have to be so grown up. Let her still have fun with butterflies and nets and rock collections.
There’s plenty of time later in life for beauty and fashion.
