Growing Up

Looking out the kitchen window into the back yard Alan says, "How the hell did he get a hold of the sledge hammer?"  And that sent me thinking into how you probably wouldn't hear that too often in most families and also how it just sums up what living with Teddy is like on a day to day basis.
After I got him to put the sledge hammer away in the shed (he must have snuck it out while Alan was putting the lawn mower away) I realized how much Teddy is growing up.  All I had to do was count to 3 and Teddy put the hammer away.  He whined and crabbed about it, of course, but he did it.  While he did it he had to ask what sledge hammers are used for (we got ours to smash down mole trails, believe it or not) and when he can use it again. 
Thirty minutes later he's screaming and crying cause I turned on Scooby-Doo for him.  He wanted to lay in his room and fuss and moan and say he's bored, which always turns into a bad time.  Sounds crazy I know to force a kid to watch TV, but for Teddy it's a way to break the cycle of meltdown.  Now he's calmly watching Scooby and the Gang meet Dick Van Dyke.
Teddy is growing up, and while he can do some things better than ever there's always the feeling of taking 2 steps forward and 1 step back.  He's always moving ahead, it's just not going to be in a straight trajectory.  And it's frustrating to watch.  You think, "Great!  Look how much better he's doing!".  And then 5 minutes later he's back to name-calling and screaming.  Alan and I have to constantly keep our expectations low, but our hopes high.  It's a tough balance that leaves us feeling emotionally and physically drained.
This past week has been especially difficult for us.  On Sunday while I was at work Alan texted me and said there was an ambulance and fire engine across the street at our neighbor Jerry's house.  Jerry is one of those special people that is like a guardian angel for Teddy.  He never pushed himself on Teddy but was kind with him and listened to him.  He was a big part of our neighborhood because he was always in his front yard working on his lawn.  That man loved his lawn.
As you probably guessed from the past tense used, Jerry passed away.  We got the news Tuesday evening when his son-in-law came over and rang our doorbell.  Teddy had been worried about Jerry since Sunday when he saw him being wheeled out of his house on a stretcher.  He told me his legs were shaking and wondered if Jerry was having a seizure--Teddy knows about those too well for me to wonder how he figured that out.  It was a massive stroke, and despite brain surgery he never came back. 
When my dad died 3 years ago Teddy wasn't yet able to process that kind of grief.  He got mad at a board game 3 days after he died and cried for about 30 minutes, and Alan and I figured that was the most we were going to see of his pain at his grandpa's passing.  And it was, except for the questions that have slowly gotten less over the past 3 years.
When Buster died last year we saw Teddy cry about loss for the first time.  We were all crushed to lose him and we all openly showed it. 
With Jerry's death, Teddy has moved to a new level of comprehension and therefore pain.  He talked of Jerry incessantly for the 3 days he was hospitalized before his death, worried about him.  When we learned he was gone Teddy went to his room and cried, and I sat by him crying also.  When he went to school the next day his wonderful special ed teacher suggested he make a sympathy card for "Mrs. Jerry", which he did.  It was a beautiful expression of how he felt--that he loved to watch Jerry mow and water his lawn, and that he'd think about Mrs. Jerry every day. 
My boy is growing up, and with it comes new areas of joy and pain for all of us.  And I couldn't be prouder of him.