Tonight we treated ourselves to dinner out. Actually it's not so much a "treat" as much as an "exercise in misguided optimism/idiocy." Frankly, by the time Friday night comes around I'm pretty pooped and incapable of making good decisions. Therefore when my mother suggested going out I thought it was a good idea.
The R.A. quite enjoys a good dining experience. Tonight he was especially jazzed because his sister was not accompanying us. My daughter adores her little brother and lavishes him with attention - and we all know how much people on the spectrum love to be bombarded with unrelenting attention (for you autism neophytes - people on the spectrum don't like being bombarded with unrelenting attention). The R.A. was positively giddy on the drive to the restaurant. He was stimming for Britain and happily caterwalling. No doubt the caterwalling translated to, "Free at last! Free at last! Lord Almighty, I'm free at last! Or at least until she gets home but heck, I'll take it!"
Of course, our first stop was MacDonald's for the requisite french fries and extra ketchup. Making the stop doesn't mean that he will eat them. There's only a 50-50 chance that he will but not purchasing them is not worth the risk. When ordering the fries you have to be vigilant about the extra ketchup thing. Many an outing has been ruined by the discovery of a ketchup deficiency. A "ketchup diva" is not conducive to a pleasant dining experience. Neither is a "napkin diva" so you also have to make sure they put in more than the regulation two napkins in the bag.
Sometimes (okay, most of the time) by the time the french fries, ketchup, napkin thing is all taken care of, I'm exhausted. Tonight I soldier on and we finally get to the restaurant. Settling ourselves at our table is another big project - who sits where is usually dominated by where to put the R.A. so he can't escape out of the booth or frighten others diners (or my mother.) Properly arranging the napkins, fries, and ketchup is another one. Once we are all set my mother immediately decides we should sit at another table. Always over achievers, we add another big project and pack up the fries, ketchup, napkins and our various assorted junk and re-settle at another table.
I should note that there was another little boy on the spectrum at the restaurant. He and the R.A. acknowledged each other in the traditional ASD way - not making eye contact and emitting loud noises. Not to brag but my kid's noises were louder and had a more pronounced "shrieky" quality. I guess his forfeiting sleep the previous night in favor of practicing eardrum splitting yowls really paid off. He is nothing if not a perfectionist.
It was one of our usual low key, relaxing meals. Despite the R.A. repeatedly attempting to climb over me to lunge at the window behind me (he loves looking out windows - it probably has something to do with reconnaissance) I still managed to eat some of my dinner. And while it was still sort of warm-ish.
FYI - tonight the R.A. did not eat the fries (which explains why he had so much time to devote to his window lunge exercises). Part of the problem may have been my mother inadvertently ruining the french fries/napkin/ketchup arrangement. Her dish mooshed the napkin which in turn smeared the ketchup. Game over.
All in all it was a good night.
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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