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The end of Chapter 3

Earlier this week I found out that i have finally passed my Legal Practice Course; an LPC is the vocational stage of training to be a solicitor that must be taken after completing a law degree and before practicing. This means that after 8 years of being a law student, I am done. I was trying to describe to my friends how happy I was to receive the news and I couldn’t find words.

If you are a regular reader, you know that this was part of my life plan. I moved away from home, I’ve been studying since 2008 and working alongside my studies to set down the cornerstones of the life Christos will have to join eventually. This last month has been a tough one. My nan was in hospital for 3 weeks. My nan, or my 75137_10150101622680030_3087748_nyiayia, is a 2-time cancer survivor, she’s worked since she was 14 and she raised us all with such love. She loves a good sing-along, a western cowboy film, she knows how to throw a good party, she loves a good beer with her lunch and a whiskey on special occasions. She looks amazing; i know I’m biased but look at her! She always takes care of herself even though she worked 16-hour days, she never said no to a customer or an ill aunt, she was never too tired to run around after her grandchildren and I’m so proud of her – I used to borrow my yiaya’s jewelry and shoes, that’s how cool my yiayia is. She’s one tough cookie. I love my yiayia, she makes the best food, the best tea, toast and jam, she makes the best cakes (she owned a confectionery), she cries every time we speak and she rubs my feet even though hers are way more tired. I love my yiayia the most though because of how she treats Christo. I talk a lot about how our family felt after the diagnosis but my nan and granddad were right there with us. They went through all the emotions, all the ups and downs. They picked us up from school, babysat, they took Christo to speech therapy, to the oxygen chamber appointments, they watched the Lion King a thousand times, they picked up after  a tantrum, they always had a stash of calming treats, they stopped singing because he doesn’t like it and they never gave up on him. She has been a support to us and to Christo for as long as he has been with us. She knows his language, his schedule and how to bribe him for kisses and hugs. Christo knows he has to respect her, he knows which buttons to push and he knows that every time he says ‘yiayia’ she is ready to give him the world. I love the way they love him because it looks like the way i love him. It’s my only consolation, knowing he is loved that much every day I am not there.

By completing the course, I’ve ticked off a big box on my preparation list for our future. It’s something I have been working on for years, it’s the one thing I’ve worked so hard on, it’s what i will base the rest of my life on. And it’s done, it’s just there now waiting to be built on – waiting for me.

The end of the LPC is the end of the first big chapter in my life. 2 years of 4000 words every 10 days, 17 exams, sleepless nights, lots of wine, and lots of tears and it’s over. I breathe a sigh of relief before I move on, i take a moment to leave this behind and digest what it all means. In my head, everything i did was a step closer to the end game – the LPC was about 150,000 steps. I can look at my brother now with confidence, with certainty that we are going to be okay. I like to think that if he knew he would be proud, I like to think that deep down he knows. I can look back to when I left him to study in Lancaster and not be struck down by guilt; because after 8 years i did what i left him for. I think of all the birthdays i missed, all the tantrums, all the times he needed me and even though i can never go back and be there, it wasn’t all in vain.

Stay tuned for Chapter 4 of Life with the Pereras.

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School bells

Memories.

I have recently become more aware of the fact that i have blocked large chunks of my childhood and school life from my memory. There are things I don’t want to remember so at some point in my adult life i decided to put all those years in a black box and bury it somewhere. Unfortunately, that means that I also buried a lot of Chris’ early years, so many fun times with so many good friends that I only remember when they remind me. Even then, it’s like a dream, like it never happened to me. In primary school, i was bullied for the majority of my time there. All I remember is being super in (puppy) love with a boy, a doll house on my f74945_10152065431390030_291941620_nirst day, my favourite teacher and lots and lots of tears. I was bullied because i am not white; even though everyone in Cyprus is tanned. I was thrown down stairs, spat on, thrown in holes, in SKIP bins and verbally abused almost daily; I have scars on my knees, arms and face to this day. In high school the abuse settled and I made friends that I have to this day. Life at home was not great and I don’t remember most of those years either. I have a tattoo and a piercing to reassure me that i did go through a rebellious phase. I don’t remember what people thought about me, who wanted to be my friend and who didn’t. I don’t remember feeling like an outcast or being popular. I don’t know who i had lunch with every day. I know i had people that loved me, and that’s so enough, and so comforting.

I read this recently.

Several times lately I have tried to remember my time in middle school, did I like all my teachers, do I even remember them? Did I have many friends? Did I sit with anyone at lunch? Just how mean were kids really? I remember one kid on the bus called me “Tammy Fay Baker” bc I started awkwardly wearing eye liner in the sixth grade, I remember being tough and calling him a silly name back, but when he couldn’t see me anymore I cried. I do remember middle school being scary, and hard. Now that I have a child starting middle school, I have feelings of anxiety for him, and they can be overwhelming if I let them. Sometimes I’m grateful for his autism. That may sound like a terrible thing to say, but in some ways I think, I hope, it shields him. He doesn’t seem to notice when people stare at him when he flaps his hands. He doesn’t seem to notice that he doesn’t get invited to birthday parties anymore. And he doesn’t seem to mind if he eats lunch alone. It’s one of my daily questions for him. Was there a time today you felt sad? Who did you eat lunch with today? Sometimes the answer is a classmate, but most days it’s nobody. Those are the days I feel sad for him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He is a super sweet child, who always has a smile and hug for everyone he meets. A friend of mine sent this beautiful picture to me today and when I saw it with the caption “Travis Rudolph is eating lunch with your son” I replied “who is that?” He said “FSU football player”, then I had tears streaming down my face. Travis Rudolph, a wide receiver at Florida State, and several other FSU players visited my sons school today. I’m not sure what exactly made this incredibly kind man share a lunch table with my son, but I’m happy to say that it will not soon be forgotten. This is one day I didn’t have to worry if my sweet boy ate lunch alone, because he sat across from someone who is a hero in many eyes. Travis Rudolph thank you so much, you made this momma exceedingly happy, and have made us fans for life!

Leah Paske – Bo’s momma

School is.. an experience. Some of us forget, some of us grow out of it, some despair and some thrive. We were all insecure, we all had self esteem issues, we all wanted company. How much easier would high school be if we just didn’t care though? If we didn’t shield ourselves, change our habits and go over and over every single word, pause and comma we used throughout the day? Some may say it’s because they don’t understand; that’s not true. Chris understands so much more than we give him credit for. Our kids are free, they are untouched by the weight of fitting in. Their spirit is unspoiled.  They get to be themselves without the fear of judgement. They can sit and have lunch alone without a care in the world, without trying to impress. I’ve talked about this before; the things we worry about are reflections of how much we are affected by the standards imposed on us by our community. We worry when they play alone, when they don’t get invited to parties, when people stare. We worry because we don’t understand what it’s like to live life without constantly trying to fit in.

I’m grateful for his autism too Leah. I am thankful i get to look up to a boy who is completely, carelessly and overwhelming okay with just being himself.

For the first day (back) at school if your kid has autism:

  • Dress them in their favourite clothes. If they have a uniform (get it from M&S) do a couple of trial runs before the first day so that if there’s anything uncomfortable you can sort it out before.
  • Pack their bag with them. They should know what’s in there and they should have a say in what’s in there. Make sure it’s stuff they have used before and it’s not all new and shiny.
  • Take them for walks around school (if you haven’t already) to familiarise them with the area. If you can meet teachers before hand – even better! Take the backpack with you, with lunch and maybe even wear the uniform. This way they know it all goes together.
  • Make sure the teacher knows how to handle questions, and that you are available to talk to the classmates about autism. Pretending like autism is not there is not the solution, it’s not acceptance.
  • If they have stimming toys, pack them.
  • Do a trial run of the early wake up.
  • Make a schedule and sit down and go over it with them.
  • Don’t make it a big deal. I mean, it’s the biggest deal EVER, but don’t create expectations they have to live up to.

If your kid doesn’t have autism talk to them about it. Chances are, they will come across someone on the spectrum during their education and you have to be able to answer questions. Learn about autism, educate yourselves, your children, your family. School doesn’t teach us everything, so be proactive, be positive, be generous and be inclusive. By teaching your kid about autism you are making someones school year bearable and you will make an autism family’s life just a little bit better.