Like Roman Catholics (and some Protestant denominations) have Lent and the Muslims have Ramadan, the Church of the Kitchen God also has its holy time of the year. It's currently happening as the R.A. has stepped up his "devotionals" to the Kitchen God's shrine. The shrine rituals (jumping up and down, flicking, babbling in front of the cookbook bookcase i.e. "shrine") have increased. The R.A. has also developed an attachment to a certain sacramental. For a Roman Catholic a sacramental might be a statue of the Blessed Virgin or rosary beads. For one of the Orthodox Christian faith this may be an icon of a revered saint. For the R.A. it's a small replica of the Eiffel Tower. The Eiffel Tower is located on a shelf above the KG shrine. The R.A. will bounce up and down in front of the shrine, flapping his hands wildly and demanding, "Towah! Towah!" until someone gives it to him. He then will walk around for a bit clutching it and then places it on a table in the living room. Currently the R.A. and my mother are in a bit of a pissing contest over the tower. My brother brought it back from a trip to France as a souvenir for her. Foolishly she considers the tower hers and is forever trying to wrangle it from the R.A. As this wrangling is now becoming part of the entire "towah" procedure I think in the R.A.'s mind it's become part of the religious ritual. I believe that must make my mother an altar girl of sorts.
I do wonder about the significance of the Eiffel Tower in the Church of the Kitchen God. It must figure prominently as the R.A. knew the object was the Eiffel Tower without anyone telling him. When he first started demanding, "Towah! Towah!" we didn't know what he was saying (I know. Odd for us not to be on top of things.) In a fit of frustration the R.A. climbed the KG bookcase, snatched the Eiffel Tower from the shelf above and shook it in my face hollering, "Towah! Towah!" and some other things which roughly translated to, "Look, you quarter-witted ninny, a tower! I mean seriously, what else could I have been talking about? It's not like you have 20 other towers perched all over the freakin' house!" How were we supposed to know that the person who didn't know what "elbows" were knew what the Eiffel Tower was?
Why the Eiffel Tower? I have two theories. Both, I am certain, are wrong. But here it goes anyway:
1. The Eiffel Tower resembles something they use during religious rituals on the home planet. Perhaps it is used to impale sinners, which would explain the R.A.'s attachment. He's probably dreaming about using it on me especially when I refuse to allow him to open a third brand new 500 count bag of Dum Dums.
2. They revere the actual Eiffel Tower on the home planet. Maybe it is a holy site for them. The Kitchen God could have ascended or descended from the Eiffel Tower. Or he could have preached great sermons from the Eiffel Tower - "Blessed are the crabby for they shall inherit anything they want because their incessant crabbiness will wear others down and they will give in."
During Lent I know there are extra things we are supposed to do - fasting, abstaining from meat on Fridays, making extra sacrifices, alms giving. Extra things I have observed the R.A. doing for his holy season are:
- placing the Eiffel Tower in a specific spot on a specific table in the living room. No one is allowed to touch or move the tower. My brother moved it once just to see the R.A.'s reaction. The R.A. snatched the tower back. While returning it to the proper spot he shot his uncle a scathing look that clearly said, "Have you no respect?" It actually reminded me of the looks the nuns would give us if we were goofing around during Mass.
- covering the living room floor with various wooden puzzle pieces. The R.A. gets positively wild when we pick them up. He himself refuses to pick them up even when we sing the "Clean Up" song - which goes to show you how opposed he is to picking them up. I wonder if it's his equivalent to our decorating for Christmas?
- frequent wranglings with his grandmother over the Eiffel Tower.
I don't know how long this holy season lasts or how it culminates. I just hope it doesn't involve impaling any of us.
May the Kitchen God be with you.
Amen.
The earth-bound adventures of a reluctant alien astronaut and his not overly bright human caretakers.
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."
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."
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