My child is like a puppet on invisible strings, all stretched out high above. I’m not sure who’s pulling them, but it feels cruel sometimes. He jerks, dances, and occasionally tumbles over, making a mess of his drink. You know that gut-wrenching feeling when you see your little one take a spill? It’s like watching them tumble down the stairs over and over again.
My son has relinquished control of his body to Tourette Syndrome. I know it could be much more challenging, but I still find myself yearning for a life where he doesn’t face teasing or those judgmental stares. A life where I don’t have to start new playdates with, “Just so you know, my son has Tourette’s.”
Yet, there’s a thrill in his journey. My child is destined to be more than just a background character; he’ll learn perseverance and leadership from this experience. He’s figuring out the connection between his mind and body, which means he’ll emerge stronger than many.
His resilience is truly something to behold. He openly tells his classmates about his tics, and they think he has bugs! “No, a different kind of tic,” he chuckles, explaining that it’s just a “reaction.” So far, the other kids in his second-grade class have been quite understanding. It leaves me pondering why adults often lack that grace. When we go out, those adults don’t just glance; they stare.
My son’s tics don’t impair his vision—he sees right through to the soul of a person. “I don’t want to be different,” he confided in me once, and I felt that pang of anger at the stares we receive. I’ve been tempted to give some of those adults a cheeky gesture when he’s not watching. Okay, fine, I might have done it. There was this woman in Target, scowling at him as if he were a circus act. She totally had it coming.
The first time my son asked me how to handle the stares, I was caught off guard. Looking into his hurt eyes, I didn’t want him to feel any less than anyone else. So, I blurted out, “Just say, well, poop on you!” Luckily, he found it hilarious—what kid doesn’t love a good bathroom joke?
Recently, I overheard him mutter, “Well, poop on you,” after catching someone staring. He remembered my silly advice from ages ago! I thought about offering him something a bit more refined, but why fix what isn’t broken? It redirects his thoughts and brings him joy, so we’re keeping it.
It’s okay to be curious; that’s just human nature. But here’s my request: when you look at him, please flash a smile. He notices. Your confused frown can be misinterpreted by an 8-year-old. If you keep staring, you might hear him throw an insult your way. And, well, I might just return your stare or give you a wink. Not exactly a parenting win, but it works for us.
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Summary:
This article shares the heartfelt experiences of a mother navigating her son’s journey with Tourette Syndrome. Through humor and resilience, she reflects on the challenges of societal stares and the lessons of perseverance. The mother emphasizes the importance of understanding and kindness, encouraging adults to respond with smiles instead of judgment.