It's been a big week...

This week has been pretty intense in my working life, and it's had its knock on effects in the autistic parts of our lives too.

And they haven't all been bad.

As I walk uneasily through an entirely new professional door, I've had to step aside from the tight, controlling mama world I share with Billy. It's been liberating and completely suckful all at once.

Thankfully, the Silent Partner has been willing and able to step into the breech, and together he and Billy have shared a lot of valuable boy time. On the surface, this has meant a lot of excellent train track building, wonderful time spent on the trampoline and a few video game playing breakthroughs. But underneath, the knock on effects are much more meaningful.

As much as a part of me hates it, my boy is stretching the strings that bind us. He's more resilient, more independent, more adventurous. He's been happy to let me set off for work in the early morning (why, oh, why do we have to start work waaaaay across town at 8am? It is not natural, functional or un-puffy for me or my face). He's accepted perfectly logical discussions about why it wouldn't be appropriate for him to join me at work in a noisy, busy TV studio. Instead, he's been building lists of experiences to share with me verbally, rather than bodily. He, and his wonderful Dad, have been hanging out. Doing stuff.

That stuff hasn't necessarily had the 'therapy outcomes' that almost everything he and I do has. It hasn't been considered in the context of what has come before and what may come in the future. It isn't even close to being a part of the 'big picture'. It's just life. Stuff. Holidays.

He's a bit sunburned. He's tired. He's not necessarily as 'monitored' in a health or therapeutic sense. But he's happy.

And I am... a little discombobulated. I'm not getting the hugs. I'm not the first port of call. I'm not the font of all wisdom and warmth. Daddy is. Theoretically, I'm thrilled about this. Realistically, I feel like there's a wall between me and my wingman. And I'm not sure I like it. In fact, I'd quite like to deface it with spray-painted illegible not-suitable-for-children words.

There's nothing new about these feelings, I guess. This is the journey of any working parent. Though it's highlighted slightly by the autism prism, that makes the boy seek the most reliable solace. He loves with a need that many of us shy away from - knowing that the ones he loves interpret the world for him.

So, for maybe the first time, I'm not his Nicole Kidman in that shitty UN movieThe Interpreter (Widescreen Edition) with George Clooney. I've taken a supporting role while someone else (someone truly able and wonderful) walks with Billy on the front line.

I'm looking forward to our holiday. I'll still be stapled to my computer, but I'll be staring at the ocean or my own Mum at the same time. Mostly, I want the permission to hug and be hugged.

I know that as a person, I want a future where I am capable of earning a living and making a difference. But as a Mummy, I want my koala boy, sleeping warm and dribbly against my shoulder, as well. And I'm guessing my employers wouldn't take kindly to almost seven year old dribble on their studio floors.

Change is good. But, man it's hard.

Did I mention it's been a big week?