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."

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Is That a Twisted Sister Pin on Your Lapel?

As time progresses, the R.A.'s faith in us dwindles.  I believes he grows increasingly alarmed by our stupendous stupidity.  He probably thinks, "Isn't wisdom supposed to come with age?  If so, Mr. and Mrs. Methuselah should be super geniuses."

But sadly this is not the case.

I have noticed that lately the R.A. rarely allows us to complete tasks without his close supervision.  Tonight he wanted carrots con ketchup.  He verbally placed his order (demand) - "Caahwot.  Caahwot."  Then, knowing full well what a dimwit I am, proceeded to the fridge, opened the door, pulled out the bag of carrots, thrust them at me and repeated, "Caahwot.  Caahwot."  This was accompanied by an expression that read, "Are you getting this?  Because you really don't look like you are.  Are you sure you're getting it?"  It's a look one usually reserves for non English speaking exchange students.  Not trusting that I was competent in how the carrots are served, the R.A. then dug out the ketchup.  "Keh up.  Keh up."  Unfortunately at that moment I had the bag of carrots and a small bowl in my hands so was not immediately prepared for the thrusting of the ketchup bottle.  Thankfully the bottle was plastic and it simply bounced on the floor.  This greatly annoyed the R.A. who screeched, "Keh up!  Keh up!" as if I had committed a grave and unforgivable error.  He also shot me a look that said, "You are worthless and weak."

This close supervision makes me nervous as the R.A. doesn't simply watch to make sure one is completing the task correctly.  The monitoring is accompanied by his barking and snapping and if the R.A. finds me particularly exasperating that day, some tugging and poking.  It gives me the shakes.  I'm trying to go as fast as I can but it's never fast enough and my jangly nerves only add to my clumsiness.  Tonight, as I'm frantically attempting to put the carrots in the bowl, the R.A. is equally frantic.  He's caterwalling to beat the band.  I don't speak fluent alien but if I were capable of translating his remarks I'm sure it would be:

"Just put some carrots in the bowl!  Honestly, how difficult can it be?  No, not that carrot!  What's wrong with you? Can't you see it isn't fit for consumption?  Creatures without opposable thumbs do a better job!  Put the ketchup in the bowl.  Do it now.  Now!  Now!  Now!  Why are you lollygagging?  You are impossible!  Now, what are you doing?  Are you crying?  There's no crying in food preparation!"

I think the R.A. is unrealistic in his expectations of us.  For his own blood pressure's sake he's simply got to lower the bar.  Either that or I've got to spend more time in one.
Posted by at
Labels:

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)