The R.A. has been feeling even more dictatory-ish lately. This is evidenced by his perpetual use of the Stick of Infamy. At this point it's like an extension of his arm. Not only does he (toe) walk around all waking hours with it but also brings it with him to bed. If we try to send him to bed without it he will keen until we let him out of his room so he can retrieve it. It is his favorite cuddle toy.
As stated in an earlier blog posting, the family just accepts the Stick of Infamy. Like so many of the R.A.'s penchants, we learn to adapt and live despite it. We've become quite good at continuing whatever tasks we're involved in while simultaneously bobbing and weaving - eating, watching television, reading, talking on the phone, cooking, sharpening steak knives, bathing. A few weekends ago we even managed to play an entire game of Looney Tunes Trouble while dodging the Stick of Infamy. Frankly, it's gotten to the point that we don't even notice the flailing stick or that we're mamboing around it. We only become aware of it when a "civilian" points it out to us. This happened last weekend when a friend came to visit. In the middle of our conversation she paused and said, "Um, do you think that's safe?" I was bewildered. What wasn't safe? She gestured to the Stick of Infamy which was being flourished wildly, inches from her face. "Don't worry," I reassured her. "As long as you duck it's fine." For some reason I don't think she agreed.
Whenever he's brandishing the Stick of Infamy, the R.A. is caterwauling furiously. Sometimes he is lecturing us and at other times giving us severe dressing downs, highlighting our innumerable short-comings. He also uses the Stick of Infamy to get his point across. Right now the R.A. is sitting next to me on the couch. As I type he is repeating, "See-mo. See-mo."* For emphasis he is simultaneously whacking the couch cushion that I'm sitting on with the Stick of Infamy.
In addition to being a vehicle of authority, the R.A. must also use the Stick of Infamy as part of our training. After all we certainly are much more nimble as a result of it. Maybe he's training us for some sort of Special Ops program.
The other night as we watched the R.A. pace and pontificate, my mother and I chatted about his attachment to the Stick of Infamy. She reminisced about an earlier attachment he had to her cane (pre-Stick of Infamy.) My mother had her original hip replacement surgery three years ago. During that time the R.A. became enamoured with her cane. When she wasn't looking the R.A. would stealthily creep over to her and whisk the cane away. Sometimes he would hide it and it was a real challenge for my husband and me to find it. One time my mother was standing at the sink in the kitchen and he snuck in, swiped the cane, and disappeared. This effectively stranded my mother who was clinging to the counter shouting for her cane. Oh, those good times! The best! You can see why we love to take trips down Memory Lane (or when it comes to our lives, "Nightmare Alley.")
My daughter wondered if the R.A. would shift his affections to his Nana's cane and tried to hand it to him. I quickly intercepted it. Today it would be the cane. Next he would graduate to his grandmother's walker. It would be a nightmare trying to dodge that, not to mention just plain odd. And the Kitchen God knows we are not odd.
Okay, I need to sign off because the R.A. is playing fetch with his sister using the Stick of Infamy. I'd better intervene because I don't think she's retrieving it fast enough for his tastes and he's getting extremely annoyed.
*Nemo meaning his Nemo gummies. In his charming way the R.A. was saying, "Oh, Mother Dearest, would you be a love and fetch me some of those delicious Nemo gummies?"
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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