Recently, I was shopping in Target and walked by the Pharmacy.  A young lady was standing at the desk, and when asked her birthday she replied, “March 4, 1999.”  Phoebe’s birthday.  She told the pharmacist, “I’ll be back after I run errands.”  She had keys in her hand.  I stood there and cried.  In the middle of Target, I had a mommy meltdown.  This was what Phoebe could be doing.  She could be a young lady who runs errands, and gets her own prescriptions, and has college letters on her pants.  I cried huge tears, and I had to leave.  This hasn’t happened to me in years.

I’ve always been a realist when it comes to Phoebe and her disability.  I know her limitations and her strengths.  This still doesn’t make it easier when everyone else is growing up and doing the typical things, and she isn’t.  Friends are leaving and gone to college, and her brother is doing things that typical teenage boys do.  She hates being left behind.  Hates it.  (Don’t we all?)   She is hard to handle at home, and can’t be home alone.  (Oh, how I wish)  She goes everywhere with me when sitters and funds are unavailable, and we have a certain love/hate relationship.  She wants me around, but not really.  She wants me to help her, but not really.  She still continually seeks attention whether positive or negative.  This has NEVER changed.  Now, her disability and her age compete constantly.  It’s a little bit of a roller coaster living in our house.   It has been 18+ long years of doing this, and it’s simply tiring – for all of us.

I had her most recent IEP meeting with her amazing team of teachers, and consultants.  They could not say enough good things about my independent, happy, and thriving daughter.  She has friends, and loves school.  It’s like her own “college” experience.  I had to clarify which student they were talking about.  She needs little direction, does her jobs, goes to class, and takes care of herself at school.  I could not have been prouder, and dumbfounded.  I said, “We are talking about Phoebe right??” This is the COMPLETE opposite at home.  I explained this to them, and they made me feel much better by explaining that this is true of most of their students.  We made a plan for the next year, and I began to see that she is doing much better than I had hoped.

For the time being, I have to be happy for the girl/woman she is becoming in her own weird way.  She won’t ever be normal or typical, but that is simply just the way that it is.  For now, I’ll cry happy tears for who she has become.