So what is it like having a child with autism?

So, what is it like having a child with autism?

I get this question a lot and actually like it when people ask. Unless a person has significant contact with someone on the spectrum he/she doesn't really understand what an autism driven world is about. Saying that, it isn't always easy to convey what having a child with autism is like. After much consideration, this is what I've come up with -

For me, having a child with autism is like living with an alien from another planet. I call him the "reluctant astronaut (R.A.)" because he really didn't want to come to earth, had absolutely no interest in this space mission. As a result, he didn't pay much attention at the briefings prior to the mission so doesn't know anything about Planet Earth - nothing about language, customs, or Earthling niceties in general. In fact, he is so disinterested in Earth that even though he was sent here, he has absolutely no desire to assimilate into Earth society. Meaning he still doesn't give a rat's ass about Earth mores.

That's also how I "explain" things he does that are pretty much unfathomable to me. For example - for a certain time period he liked to sit in the toilet. No, not on the toilet but in the toilet. I reasoned that on the home planet the toilet is a jacuzzi. Although eventually we managed to break him of this habit, the jacuzzi explanation popped again during potty training when the R.A. demonstrated not only an aversion to the toilet but would have all out nuttys when placed on one. He was probably thinking, "Poop in the jacuzzi? What is wrong with you people? Miscreants!" That's what he would say if he could speak English or any Earthing dialect.

For a time I was also convinced that not only was he a reluctant astronaut but was actually an alien cat that somehow ended up in a human body. It does make sense -

Cat

Has to everything his way

Reluctant Astronaut

Ditto

Cat

Don't touch me!

Reluctant Astronaut

Ditto

Cat

Doesn't speak human language

Reluctant Astronaut

Ditto

Cat

Doesn't wear clothes

Reluctant Astronaut

Ditto (Well, would if he had his way)

Of course I don't really believe my son to be a Reluctant Astronaut.

But sometimes it sure makes sense!

Disclaimer: Although I sometimes describe things about life with my R.A. in a humorous way, please understand that I am not laughing at him. He is my son and I love him very very much. I come from a family that had its share of challenges and I learned from a young age that laughter is powerful. A situation cannot completely hurt you if you are able to find humor and laugh at some parts of it. So that's what I do. And I don't use humor solely with the R.A. My daughter was born with a heart condition that required immediate surgery. (No, I don't make good babies. They come out broken.) She was whisked away by ambulance to the hospital in Boston. It was all unexpected and traumatic. A nice young intern came to speak with my husband and me and was re-assuring us that nothing we had done caused the baby's condition. The stress and sorrow were overwhelming. When the nice young intern concluded I turned to my husband and said, "See, I told you it wasn't from all that smack I did during my pregnancy." The intern froze and then let out this huge belly laugh. Was I appropriate? Probably not. But I had to do something to relieve the stress. Astronaut life is stressful so find the laughter where you can.
And as G.K. Chesterton said, "Humor can get through the keyhole when seriousness is still hammering at the door."

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Resistance Is Futile


 Lately the R.A. has become interested in creating geometrical patterns.  If you recall my posting of May 22nd, he used Dum Dum lollies to design intricate patterns on the floor.  I proposed that this was because he was taking a correspondence course from the home planet on making crop circles and it was a homework assignment.  Lately the R.A. has been very busy laying out all his tiny vehicles, Thomas and non-Thomas.  The above photos show the progression of yesterday's project which started in his room, progressed out of his room into the hallway, down the stairs and into the living room.  Mainly my husband and I were thrilled he was keeping himself occupied not doing something death defying or involving emptying large containers of sticky liquids on to hardwood floors.  But then I started really looking at it and thinking about it and realized it was reminding me of something.  Do you recall the scene in the X-Men: Last Stand when there is mass chaos and all these cars are jammed up on the Golden Gate Bridge?  That's when it hit me.  The R.A. has been designing invasion models.  It's coming, people.  The designs are more intricate.  The intergalactic phone calls are more frequent and longer. He keeps running to our living room window and peering out at the sky.  I'm just hoping that when it does come he'll look at me, snort, and say, "Her a threat?  Seriously?  Yesterday she put my pants on backwards and didn't notice until two hours later.  And it wasn't the first time." I will then be spared vaporization as the R.A. will have determined that I am already too stupid to live and if I've so far beaten the odds, who is he to intervene?

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