The sun'll come out tomorrow

Last Friday Olivia took part in a play organised by her local secondary school in co-operation with her current primary school. The play was Annie, one of her favourite musicals/movies - she knows the lyrics of all the songs, the script of all the dialogues and she has the original score on her iPod. She was one of the orphans.

I was, as usual, very apprehensive. While her musical skills are unquestioned, her concentration skills are flimsy - Olivia has Asperger's Syndrome and Sensory Processing Disorder.

The play started at 8pm, very late and at the end of the week, when tiredness usually sets in. We had to be there at 7pm, too. I had this vision of Olivia switching off completely after a few minutes, like she had done many times before on less important events like a church procession. But this time was on a real stage, in front of a real audience - albeit most of them were parents and children from her school and the secondary one. I had this vision of Olivia telling off her fellow actors for not singing properly or for saying the wrong line;  a vision of hands on her ears because the music was too loud or on her eyes as the stage lights were too bright.

None of these visions materialised. The play was an all-round success and she had a ball. She sang all her songs together with the rest of the girls, with appropriate facial expressions, following the play at every step. She was engaged in the whole play.

There were moments when herself and the other classmates had to go offstage and wait in a classroom, supervised by one of the mammies and myself. We had snacks and watched Tangled. Then they had to go back onstage and Olivia suffered NO disruption in her concentration - I could not believe it. The whole thing finished at 10pm and she was still buzzing. Phew, I could breathe again.

On the way back to the car several girls, both from her school and from the secondary one, congratulated her on a job well done. She was chuffed with herself and thanked them all. Socially, this was massive for her.

As her mother, this is massive for me too. I am always reminded by family, friends, teachers and practitioners that Olivia has come a long way from a non-verbal 3 year-old to a beautiful, clever, lippy 10 year-old who is successfully attending a mainstream school.

I can see that myself, most of the times. Yet, I worry, constantly. About her present and about her future. I am forever torturing myself - and my very patient husband - as to whether we are doing enough, whether we are reading enough about new therapies, finding out more on potential extra-curricular activities, whether we are contributing to improving her quality of life.

I am a worrier so possibly this torture will never completely subside. But last Friday Olivia conjured up the image of a much brighter tomorrow for herself. She put her best foot forward, she put her mind to it and she did it. And she also taught me a very important lesson - when I get stuck in a rut, I need to stick out my chin and hang on till tomorrow, when the sun will come out.