Most of you have figured out that I am an emotional person.  I am sentimental.  (We can thank the Hazen genes for that one)  This Friday, March 4th is my daughters 17th birthday.  I can remember every birthday as well as the last.  I cry every year.  It’s ridiculous.  I have watched so many things change, and yet just as many things stay the same.

We are in preparation for a birthday party.  A 17-year-old “autism” birthday party.  It will be short and sweet.  It will be at home.  We will have all the things kids have at their parties: presents, cake, food, candy, ice cream and singing.  However, over the years I have learned to listen to my child and her needs, not my own.  When Phoebe was 8, I decided to have a “Fashion Show” birthday.  I am an artsy person, and creative.  I wanted her birthday to be super unique and fun.  I needed to have all the kids have a blast.  I invited all her KNOTS buddies (a mentoring program at her elementary school).  We had 15 kids invited, and many parents. I prepped the basement for a runway, painting, and dress-up.  I had music, and cake and ice-cream.  It was adorable!  Phoebe did great….to start.  Thirty minutes in, we had done the runway show, and were trying to get it wrapped up and move on to presents.  I looked around and Phoebe was nowhere to be found.  I looked upstairs and she was sitting in her room all by herself.   She was overstimulated.  She shut-down.  I was crushed.  We finished out the party without her.  I hate to admit there were a few more birthday parties that I attempted to satisfy my creative, fun side.  She absolutely hated them.  In the end, I paid for it in meltdowns and disappointment.   We have done less and less as the years go on.  (Bowling, Delta Pool, etc.)  This year, I asked her what she wanted to do.  I gave her options.  She decided that she wanted to be home, and she decided who should come.

We have continued the tradition of treat-bags and treats for school, because that is what birthdays are for her.  She has the same reaction she had ten years ago when we put the treats together.  It’s all about her.  We will celebrate her 17 years of life on Friday, and through the weekend.  I will still cry, because she’s 17, and her birth is still as fresh in my mind as it was that day.  We will do it all on her terms…just like that day 17 years ago.  (Stubborn little girl)