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."

Friday, July 1, 2011

Speaking of Being in the Closet

I think the R.A. is a closet Canadian.  He was up today around 4 AM, full of vim and vitality, demonstrating his enthusiasm by LOUDLY jabbering and yowling and laughing and tossing Thomas trains for good measure.  The R.A. obviously wanted to get an early start on Canada Day and desiredthat  the rest of the family also wake up early and get in on the festivities.  Although I am one eighth Canadian (a branch of the family initially immigrated from Ireland to Quebec and then realized after about 5 generations that they didn't speak French, they up and moved to the U.S. of A) we don't celebrate Canada Day therefore we were reluctant to wake up at 4:30 AM.  Unfortunately the R.A. didn't pace himself and crapped out at about 6:30 AM.  Hopefully, between that rest time and an afternoon cat nap, he will be replenished enough to enjoy some rousing Canada Day festivities such as.......or like.......maybe they......  Okay, I don't know what they do for Canada Day.  I'm particularly thrown as I don't know know what Canadians do during their annual two weeks of warm weather, i.e. summer.  Frankly I assumed that without snow and ice the country shut down.  I was surprised to learn that their national holiday was celebrated in July.

All right.  I felt like a dope that despite my rich Canadian heritage I was ignorant about such an important event as Canada Day.  Being the consummate librarian, I researched it.  Apparently they celebrate Canada Day with parades, picnics, and fireworks - sounds vaguely familiar.  What does it remind me of?  Of course, Australia Day!

Well, I'd better get the R.A. ready to enjoy some raucous Canada Day activities.  I know he'll want to be oooot and aboooot.

Happy Canada Day, Eh!

P.S. My suspicions about the R.A. being a closet Canadian were just confirmed.  I walked by the R.A. and I sang out, "Oh, Canada!" and the barely verbal R.A. sweetly warbled, "Oh, Canada!" in perfect pitch.
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