A Fair Warning: A Letter To My Son’s New Home Tutors

This morning you will start working with my son, you’ll be in my home for up to 20 hours per week and there are a few things I’d like to you to know.

I promise, in time, I will be a pro at this. I will leave you two alone to work but for now, I’m going to be that mammy. Hopefully, I’ll be upstairs, sorting out the washing, finally. But I might be in the kitchen,(even though you advised against that) with my ear pressed against the door. I’ll pop in every now then to see if you’d like tea or coffee (AKA snooping on you and interrupting all your hard work.) My baby will be there too and he might be crying loudly or giving out because his routine is being upset.

When I do muster up the courage to leave the house during your lessons, my dog might bark at you whenever you get close to my son.

My house might be messy.

Any one of my daughters might be home sick from school, they might interrupt you, too. They seem to develop an unquenchable thirst for Miwadi whenever something interesting might be happening downstairs. I might sleep it out and when you call to the house we’ll still be in our p’j’s and need a full 30 minutes of your time to get ready for class.

There might be a pile of clothes that I forgot to put away that will compel my son to knock over and climb under and it might take you 15 minutes to coax him away from it.

Visitors, who I forgot to tell not to call around, might call around. It will take at least 15 minutes to settle my son back into lessons.

My husband might pretend he forgot his phone and unexpectedly drop in from work, because he’s nervous too, even though he pretends not to be.That’ll cost you another 15 minuets I’m afraid.

I might forget to pay the Wi-Fi or top up the electricity because I am inhumanly tired and my brain goes to mush at really inconvenient times… for my son, that’s a shit storm and you might have to deal with a meltdown.

We might all have a vomiting bug and I’ll have forgotten to call and cancel before you show up at my door

I might assume a particular food item is a good idea to leave out for his lunch, you know, because he ate it a million damn times before, but he might have changed his mind and give you hell for serving it up to him.

I might let my Xanax prescription lapse and cry if you give a negative report of any kind. I might have just taken a Xanax before you got there and you might get frustrated at how long it takes me to leave the house.

I might not have had the time to do the homework you asked me to do with him.

He might not be bathed because I couldn’t get him into the bath for love nor light-up rubber duckies last night.

I might be in no mood to hear any constructive criticism from you, because “what would you know?! I’M his Ma!”.

I might get in a bad mood if you don’t offer any critique on my parenting that might be helpful, because “what do I know?! You’re the teacher!”. I might get too involved. I might ask for weekly written reports, as opposed to our agreed upon monthly ones. I might never get the chance to read them.

None of these things might ever happen because sometimes I surprise myself. Sometimes I’m fantastic and do everything I am supposed to do. Autism can do that to a parent! You have no choice but to up your game!

However…My son might not let you into his world for a while. He can be very choosey. You might not be able to get his attention for more than 5 damn seconds. He might break your equipment and rip your books and eat your flash cards. He might need his nappy changed the minute I leave the house. You might not know what he’s trying so hard to tell you. You might not know why he’s laughing so much. You might plan a great day’s work but he’ll only want to play with your watch. He might fall in love with you because he responds very well to people who continue to give him their time even when he gives nothing in return. He might surprise you some days because, in his own special way, he is a genius.

There are a couple of things I can guarantee though. My family and I will always be trying our hardest to make things run smoothly for you. Every little milestone you help my son to achieve, we will be eternally grateful for. And, finally, my son is absolutely going to melt your heart.

Oh, and please excuse everything that happens before I’ve had my coffee.

By Christine Greene-O’Brien-Gleeson

Originally published at mama-puh-lease.tumblr.com.