" I'm sure we will pay for it tonight. It's all part of the R.A.'s dastardly plan."
And so I closed my last blog posting. It only shows how well acquainted I am with the R.A's M.O. He attacked that very night. The attack was swift yet messy.
Saturday night, after the parade, my husband and I had plans to meet friends for dinner. This is an extremely rare occurrence. I think there are more frequent occurrences of solar eclipses than occurrences of us going out socially. Due to childcare issues (read - nobody will babysit the R.A.) we usually head out at 8 PM or later. That way the R.A. is confined to his room/cell and therefore unable to terrorize his grandmother - too much.
That night I was all dressed, primarily in "grown up" clothes and was picking up the day's wreckage from my living room while waiting for my husband to get the R.A. settled in his room. We were literally minutes from our short yet sweet furlough. Suddenly I heard my husband bellow my name. I sprinted up to the second floor to find my husband running from the R.A.'s room while holding a vomit covered R.A. out and away from his body. He zoomed into the bathroom and deposited the R.A. into the bathtub where the R.A. proceeded to spew while simultaneously smiling.
While the R.A. was entertaining himself by continuously throwing up all over the bathtub, my husband cleaned his room and I changed out of my finery and into more barf appropriate clothing. Once we were satisfied that the R.A. had indeed cleared his stomach of all semi-digested food items, my husband and I peeled his (R.A.'s) vomit-tastic clothes off him and then excavated the tub. It's a testament to just how often the R.A. hurls that neither my husband or I were wigged out in the least by the sight or amount of vomit. Once the tub was clean and sanitized, I told my husband to clean up and head out to the dinner and that I would stay with the R.A. We did briefly consider cleaning up the R.A., putting him back to bed and heading out to dinner, only a few minutes behind schedule (we are that used to the "Barf-ah-pah-loozah" Extravaganza that we have a very efficient clean up system going on.) I know it sounds uncaring to leave a "sick" child but despite the numerous occasions of the R.A. throwing up it rarely means he's sick. On paper it would appear he has a sensitive gag reflex. My husband and I don't buy it. The R.A. is capable of vomiting on demand thus using it as a Weapon of Mass Destruction. We were 95% sure it was a "Vomit of Vengeance." But then we figured our friends would just judge us harshly as bad parents so we decided one of us should stay home. I was always lousy at "Paper, Rock, Scissors."
So my husband headed out and I bathed the R.A. who was cheerful and positively pleased with himself. If he was capable of human speech I'm sure he would have said, "Ha! Ha!" Sometimes I am very happy he can't speak English.
Of course the R.A. did not barf once for the rest of the evening. He spent the night feasting on Pringles and white grape juice and working on battle plans i.e. lining up puzzle pieces in random formation on the living room floor. He was smiling and laughing - an absolute delight. The little stinker.
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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