Wrestling the Wind

    Raising two boys is like wrestling the wind.  Raising two boys when one has special needs is like wrestling time.   When I figured out that they are raising me; I stopped twisting in the minutes. When Santino entered our lives, I worried that he would always feel second to the attention Quinn required.  Over the years, I watched him sit quietly and watch as Quinn grappled with his thoughts when he entered a new environment, watched him quietly disappoint as we walked away from a merry- go- round at a local amusement park because the stimulation was overwhelming for his brother, watched him gaze quietly as I carried Quinn away from a bustling store front. As he sacrificed his wants, he gently changed into a little boy with compassion beyond his years.  Santino had no choice because he was thrust into perspective; in his young five years, he learned the power of tolerance and the splendor of difference.    

       Most of the time these lessons are parental obligations, but, in my case, I am a bystander to the process.  For example, just the other day, Quinn cried because nightfall came too quickly for him; Santino reached for his hand and guided him over to the window, “C’mon Quinnie let’s look for the moon.” As both of my boys walked across the floor and gazed to the sky, I realized the power of their connection. At the age of five, Santino displays a maturity beyond his years.  He senses when others need a hand, a shoulder or a hug.  I take no credit; Quinn deserves it all.  His presence in Santino’s life not only offers Tino a big brother to roll in the mud, leap skyscrapers and slays dragons with; it offers him an opportunity for perspective and kindness.   

      I know as time passes, moments will call upon Santino and Quinn to navigate deepening mud, to construct ladders to climb the skyscrapers and to slay larger dragons in order to defend, protect and guide each other.   The fact remains that Santino will feel slighted at times, he will be angry that his bother has a disability and he will struggle with his feelings; however, I also know that through these battles my boys will continue to form an unbreakable bond.

A few months ago in a moment of a harried-mom-day where the list is longer than the hours, I was rushing the boys to leave the house; I wasn’t taking into account “Quinn Time” that day and Santino gently grabbed my arm and said, “Mama, sometimes Quinn needs a little extra time.”  In that moment I knew that as my boys grow away from me, I will always remember my little blue-eyed boy filled with tangible love for his brother.  Today, as Santino turns five, I no longer worry that he will miss out on anything because of his brother; instead, he will have everything someone needs to be a giving, caring and loving human being because of him.  Thank you to my boisterous boys for showing me that sometimes when a mom sits back and lets her children teach each other that is when they learn the important lessons.