<p>This is going to be long, and its going to be braggy. But if any of your children were the difficult sort, as my son was, I think you will find it worth reading.</p>
<p>To understand what follows, you need to know that on December 11, I fell down the steps from the house to the garage and smashed the insides of my left leg into lots of little pieces. (When one doctor in the emergency room says to another, Wow, look at this x-ray, you know that your problems are not going to be resolved with an Ace bandage and a prescription.) I had numerous pieces of metal inserted into the leg and then spent two days in the hospital and five in a rehab place, where, during physical therapy, I further rendered myself useless by twisting my wrist while trying to learn to climb stairs on crutches. I am now home, but I cannot walk (not even with crutches), I cannot drive, I cannot get in or out of the house without help, and I cannot even get to parts of my house that are not on the first floor. All I can do is roam around in a wheelchair (eagerly supplied by my insurance company when they realized that it would allow me to leave that expensive rehab place), take overpriced drugs, talk on the phone, and type from a sideways position (the leg has to be extended and elevated, and it does not fit under the desk).</p>
<p>As you might imagine, my husband has been going nuts, trying to deal with all the problems raised by my injury in addition to performing both my family responsibilities and his own, as well as making a vague effort to make the hour-long commute to his job now and then. He has had an especially hard time coping with the extensive transportation needs of our 17-year-old daughter, who attends a magnet school in a distant part of the county and does not yet have a drivers license. Our daughter is not a happy camper, either, because she spends a lot of time either stranded and begging for rides or trying to do unfamiliar household chores on top of her extensive (IB diploma program) schoolwork. Also, I stole her thunder. Last week, she got admitted to Cornell early decision, and basically, nobody noticed. :(</p>
<p>Then my son (the “difficult” kid), who is a junior at the University of Maryland, came home for winter break. And the shape of the world changed. 
Since he got here on Tuesday, he has been fetching and carrying things for me, doing multiple loads of laundry, running the errands that I would normally run, and endlessly driving his sister to activities and events in distant corners of the county. He missed a party that he had hoped to go to on Thursday night because we needed him to schlep his sister to her school band concert, wait three hours, and schlep her home again – and he didnt complain. On Saturday, he got up three hours ahead of his usual schedule (hey, it still said AM on the clock!) to drive his sister to a community service thing she had to do forty-five minutes away from home, and then he went back for her six hours later – and he didnt complain. Im sleeping in his bed (it was moved downstairs because I cant get upstairs) while he is using a bed with a lumpy old mattress in a room where the heat rarely works – and he hasnt complained. He even offered to drop the course he was planning to take in his colleges 3-week January session if I needed him to stay home (I turned this offer down). </p>
<p>Where did this mature, considerate, helpful young man come from? </p>
<p>This was the baby who didnt sleep through the night for three and a half years.</p>
<p>This was the preschooler whose behavior was so out of control that strangers would routinely come up to me in public places and say things like, My sister has a boy with autism, too.</p>
<p>This was the elementary schooler who prompted endless parent-teacher conferences in response to such offenses as doodling all over standardized tests and throwing other kids in the mud on the playground.</p>
<p>This was the middle schooler who got mediocre grades because he couldnt be bothered to do his homework or, if he did do it, couldnt be bothered to turn it in.</p>
<p>This was the high schooler who got in-school suspensions for violating the schools computer policies (I wasnt downloading pornography, Mom, just articles about suicide), who tortured me with six months of pure defiance during his state-mandated practice driving (Im the driver, Mom; if I want to drive with sunglasses on even though its pitch dark outside, you cant stop me), and who had to be dragged kicking and screaming through the college admissions process (Two schools are plenty, Mom; if I dont get in, Ill just get a job.)</p>
<p>Somehow, the difficult kid grew up. And he grew up into functional adult and an absolute sweetheart. I have no idea how this transformation happened. It certainly wasnt my doing; Im not that good a parent. But I thought you might want to know that it CAN happen, even to the most difficult of kids.</p>
<p>Its almost worth smashing your leg to discover something like this. Almost.</p>