Sometimes it’s not the exact holiday you remember when your child has Tourette’s or OCD. It’s the tic or meltdown that comes with it.

After spending days deciding on his costume for this year, my son had to make sure it fit perfectly. And perfectly for him isn’t the same as perfectly for you and I. Oh no. He had to know exactly which shorts and pants felt exactly right under said costume. and how it felt zipped all the way up to the top. and now just half way zipped. And if it scratched him funny. And if it rode up on one side and not the other. And if he could run and bend his knees just right with it on, or if he had to stretch the fabric a bit when he walked. You get the idea.

It’s trying on his helmet and mouth piece over and over, adjusting, re adjusting, and then melting down because it wasn’t curving properly over his mouth. Of course the $19.99 cheap costume wasn’t curving properly over his mouth, but try explaining that to him. After what felt like forever of going back and forth trying to fix it and him declaring Halloween ruined no less than four times, I found duct tape fixed the matter to his liking enough to make him ‘uncomfortable’ but not ‘with a tic uncomfortable’ and we considered this a win and moved on.

He then dropped off his helmet that I painstakingly worked on for hours after just a block of trick-or-treating…yup. You read that right. He wore it for maybe 30 minutes. Total. But honestly, I didn’t care. He was happy and having fun and that was all that matter. I would have taped a million cheap costume helmets to see my kids smile and be excited like that again.

After adjusting his sister’s cheap headband a few times I was thankful she was happy with how it looked and off they went. She didn’t want make up. She didn’t even want her hair brushed. She threw on her ninja outfit and was ready to rock.

Of course there was also the shoe situation…his were uncomfy after breaking a few days before and his Dad, thankfully, fixed them ‘PERFECTLY’ – she just threw on her pink crocs and took off running. In fact, they both took off running this year so fast I was thankful to have been handing out candy at home.

But now that I think about it…one more thing about that ‘shoe’ situation….why did my son make such an ISSUE over me fixing his helmet and didn’t even blink at his Dad fixing his shoes? The tools which help him run! I swear he just trusts the way his Dad fixes things more than the way I fix them because the man has tools. Whatever. I bet you some of those tools are mine.

While I am glad another holiday is in the books for my kids filled with memories and fun..I’m also glad we continue to find ways to accommodate and beat his Tourette’s and OCD, and not let it beat us. Sure, we all get a bit aggravated sometimes, but we NEVER say it’s his fault and we NEVER make him feel as though there is anything wrong with his body’s needs and his discomforts, doing what we can to make him comfortable in a world he would love to organize and make feel unscratchy and comfy.

But then again, given the chance…wouldn’t we all??

I felt sick sending my kids to camp today. That pit of the stomach sick, gnawing and ripping at my heart as I wondered if this was the right time to give my children new challenges.

My children are used to a certain level of sheltering. A protection that can’t last forever, nor will it hold at all times for all things. With my sensitive son and his Tourette’s and OCD, and my daughter’s strength and wit and silliness, enrolling them in a non-traditional school was a no-brainer. My quirky family fits in well and our little oddities are welcomed with open arms.

Toss in my illness, and never-ending doctor’s visits, hospital stays, and treatments which cause stress on them both, and their social interaction ends up more limited than I would like. But it’s hard to host playdates when I’m hooked to an iv and I hate relying too much on the kindness of other parents as they offer to shuttle my kids back and forth from their homes and nearby parks.

All of this adds to the social awkwardness that gives our family an extra dose of that quirk we’ve carved into our community where we have no need to acknowledge or hide.

And then came summer camp. A wonderful opportunity presented to us with swimming and archery and drama and crafts and everything you’d expect, except it is outside of our hometown and very traditional. Things I never really gave a thought to when excitedly signing them up, until my son came home after his first day relaying a story to me about how he was called names and made fun of.

My heart sank, my gut hurt, and I realized I had not prepared them for ‘traditional’ camps or schools. For what passes these days as ‘normal’ out there in the world. We had so carefully carved out a community that fits us, fits them, that I feel I have failed in showing them the ‘other’ side of things and trotted them off to camp where we’re the only minivan in the valet line and very probably one of the only families attending a casual, progressive, and accommodating non-traditional school.

I felt like I threw them to the wolves.

Of course my son was steadfast and strong and brave. He had stood up for himself to the boys, and he had told his counselor. He even made other friends within his group so as to avoid the kids who immediately labeled him as different. But he was also hesitant to return. After talking to me he felt better about giving it another try, and left this morning happy and somewhat excited to attend.

My husband had a talk with his counselor, and we have no doubt the camp will keep an eye out, but the bigger issue was my failure as a parent to see this coming. I should have known better. I should have realized I couldn’t just plunk my kids into that atmosphere and expect them to conform and blend.

I’m proud that my kids are unique. That they are quirky and odd and brilliant and creative with hearts of gold. And I know I can’t shelter them forever from cruel comments and bullies and jerks and all the things that go bump in the night.

There was a large part of me that wanted to immediately yank my kids from camp and keep them with me all summer, and a small part that knew sending them back this morning was the right thing. Letting them learn, supervised, that sometimes people are assholes but those assholes shouldn’t ruin your good time. I would never let it get to the point where my child was sick over attending or anything more than typical kids being kids…but that didn’t make hearing what went on any easier. And this was just very tame kid social circle stuff.

I am, however, thankful my son knew enough to handle his own issues at camp and then talk with me about it all. He wasn’t afraid to confide in me, talk to his counselor, or go back and have fun. Clearly he’s taking it all much better than his mother.

And of course it didn’t stop me from telling him I would stand at the ready to string-up anyone who dared mess with my kids. My plan is to let meanies dangle from the camp flagpole by their underwear, which elicited many giggles and astonished looks from my children, shocked Mom would say (or do) such a thing.

But then we talked about how that would make ME the bully, and tactics they can use to fend off any kids at camp who seem to want to cause trouble.

There are so many things we want for our children. We all want them to get a good education, learn right from wrong, become good people, etc. etc. etc. But there is so much more we don’t want for them. I don’t want them to feel heart-break, or to be picked on. I don’t want them to dread school or a certain clique of classmates, or even new experiences like summer camp in another town. But all of those things means never falling in love, never finding new friends, and never venturing outside our comfort zones.

Which is why I dutifully packed up lunches and swimsuits and towels and sunscreen this morning and sent the kids off to camp. Everything in me wanted to just forget it, and keep them home. Because it was safer. Because it was easier. Because we have all just had enough lately. But I sucked it up, hid my tears, and watched them go.

They deserve to have fun, they deserve to find new friends, and they deserve a normal childhood with all its trappings and rewards.

And I can only hope I won’t fail them again.