Tommy

I was still in the hospital holding my newborn son when the doctor asked me what I had named him. "Thomas Joseph Marcello," I proudly answered. "Thomas Joseph Marcello," she repeated, nodding her head and smiling, "that sounds like the name of a president!" My son, I glowed inwardly, a president. Why not? The possibilities were endless for my baby!
 

The official diagnosis came three years later, but I had come to know it in my heart before I heard it spoken by the professionals- autism. I was beyond devastated. The life I had envisioned for my child was not going to happen. And so began years of research, therapies, meltdowns, Boardmaker pictures, and watching my son grow up alongside his typically developing peers in a manner that was most untypical. In one of my searches for support on the internet I found an anonomous quote that truly changed my perspective. "Love me for who I am instead of wondering what I might have been like." I let go of the concept of who I wanted my son to be and began to focus only on who he actually was.
 

What I came to realize is that my son Tommy is truly special. He has a heart of gold and a smile that warms the room. He exudes happiness and makes everyone around him smile. Tommy makes improvements every day because he always tries his best. He has earned the respect of his teachers and therapists. I wish I was half as popular as he!
 

I admire the young man he has become and I am so grateful to be his mother. While "Thomas Joseph Marcello" may never be the name of a president, this proud mother maintains that the possibilities are still endless for her son!

 

Turning Into Your Mother

I once owned a book titled How Not to Turn Into Your Mother.  I do not remember much about the book's content other than it was of a comedic nature.  When you are a young woman with hopes and dreams for your future, your last wish is to be like your mother, and the book poked fun at that dreaded possibility.  

When I was in my early twenties, I could totally relate to that premise.  My relationship with my mother had always been strong, but when you are young it is easier to notice the annoying qualities of your parents than the desirable ones. For example, when you got into trouble as a child, you vowed never to use the punishements your parents bestowed upon you on your future children because, of course, you felt they were being unfair.  As you grow older you swear never to adopt your mother's sense of fashion, which you perceive as outdated and sometimes embarrassing.   Before you have your own children you promise that you will never utter their parental phrases such as, "it's not you I worry about, it's the other driver" or  the time-honored "because I said so."  Unlike your parents, you will always know the names of the movies in the theater and the current hit songs on the radio.  You will not become outdated or old or boring.  You simply will not allow yourself to turn into your mother.

Years pass and life's rhythm takes over. You graduate from school and get a job.  You get married and give birth to your own kids.  You pay your mortgage, go to birthday parites, and learn how to reconcile your adult understanding of the world with the expectations you once held as a child.  You grow up without really noticing, and then one day it happens.  There was never really a chance it would not. One day you realize that you have turned into your mother.  

When I realized that this inevitable fact of life had come true for me, my reaction was quite different from the feeling of horror that I once had anticipated.   To understand my feelings you must get to know my mother, Janet Zurro.  Mom died of cancer on July 10, 2013.  Her life inspired mine in countless ways, obviously, but the lives of so many others as well. At her wake and funeral people would hug me and say, "You are just like your mother."   Janet's kind nature and brave battle with her long illness make her special.  Knowing that I have "turned into my mother" gives me a sense of pride and completion.   It is the highest compliment.  It makes sense to me and that is comforting. 

 

"You Should Write a Book"

"You should write a book."

I have heard this phrase on many occasions; after penning an informative yet succinct letter of recommendation for a student, after sharing an inspiring story about the latest development achieved by my disabled son, after the loving eulogy I wrote honoring my mother was read at her funeral.  My gut response to the comment has always been the same, a question that quickly pops into my mind-  "who would want to read what I have to say?" 

I do have a lot to say, after all.  I am a middle aged mom, married for 16 years, working full-time and raising two children, one of which has autism.  I own a beautiful pet, a young and energetic chocolate labrador retriever.  I helplessly watched cancer slowly take the life of my mother.  I deal with the grief of losing her with the new burderns of taking care of my elderly father and my brother (who is also disabled).  I face challenges at work and at home.  I am dealing with the inevitability of getting older, evidenced by my need for reading glasses, the enjoyment I get from reading articles from "Good Housekeeping" magazine, and my early bedtime.  I have learned many life lessons in my 43 years, but still have so many questions.  I have achieved self-confidence but can lapse into insecurity and fear.  I feel content and at peace with where my choices have taken my life, but retain a constant yearning to know, feel, and understand more.

So after much self-reflection, I have finally decided that I should write...not a book, not yet anyway.  I have decided to write my thoughts and ideas, share the stories that I like to think are inspirational, impart the knowledge that I would like my sons and students to have, pose the questions to which I would like to find the answers.  I will begin to write because I have realized that when I asked myself who would want to read what I have to say, the answer is...me.