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."

Monday, March 12, 2012

Mall Rats 2

We went  to the mall on Sunday.  As I posted previously, the R.A. does fancy the mall.  He especially likes to Earthling watch.  Initially I thought he was enjoying the Freak Show that is mall visitors but after Sunday's visit I think there is more to it. 

As the R.A. is officially six in Earthling years, we now make him walk in the mall like a "regular" person.  Despising anything that smacks of "just your average" Earthling, he resents it tremendously.  I also think, in his mind, being in the stroller is akin to a Pharaoh being transported in his royal litter by his slaves. 

After a bit of bitching and a dab of ire, we managed to coax the R.A. to get out of the car.  I don't think it was so much our convincing argument that there are lollipops to be had in the mall but rather the annoying sing-song tones we used to communicate: "Lollipops!  Lollipops in the maallll!"  The R.A. was really trying to get away from us.  He's not alone in that as family, friends, and complete strangers can attest.

Very slowly we made our way to his favorite spot in the mall - the Food Court. To demonstrate how caught up the R.A. gets in checking out all of the action, he inadvertently ate some Burger King french fries after which he did NOT immediately demand McD french fries.  He also did not vomit in cruel retrobution at being served unacceptable french fries.  The R.A. was too busy not only to eat but to complain or to be demanding.  (Which is why my husband and I are big mall fans.  I think if we could get away with it we would just hang out at the mall all the time like a pair of elderly tween parents lugging around our unruly offspring.)  As the R.A. swiveled around in his chair attempting not to miss a minute of anything, I reconsidered his attraction to people watching.  I don't think he was thinking: "Uggh!  Just because they make it in that size doesn't mean you have to wear it!"  I think it was more along the lines of: "Vaporize, vaporize, vaporize, enslave.  Vaporize, vaporize, enslave, enslave."  I propose what he is actually doing is taking an inventory.

The R.A.'s second favorite thing at the Food Court is the merry-go-round.  Both my kids love it.  Unfortunately I am a slow eater so it tends to fall on my husband to take the kids on the ride while I am stuck by myself eating in peace all alone.

It's not the ride that my husband and I mind.  It's the conclusion of the ride.  The R.A. is a big fan of the ride itself but not a fan of getting off the ride when it's over.  My husband usually has to pry the R.A.'s fingers off the merry-go-round horse's pole.  On Sunday the R.A. was so intent on remaining that my husband claimed the R.A. was horizontal as he gripped the pole with both hands and attempted to use his own body for leverage.  My husband said the R.A. looked like a human body flag.  After a brief but rousing bout of "Greco Roman Alien Small Child" wrestling he managed to remove the R.A. from the ride.  The R.A. was so distraught by the experience that he attempted to throw himself into a random stroller.  Fortunately it was empty but my husband had to engage in yet another bout of "Greco Roman Alien Small Child" wrestling.  The R.A. was furious and it's only due to another mercilessly awful chorus of "Lollipops! Lollipops!" that he grudgingly calmed down enough to allow us to half drag him out of the Food Court.

At the candy store the R.A. was still clearly resentful and demands not one but two lollipops.  My husband actually initiates a spirited discussion with the R.A. about only having one lolly to which I hiss, "For Kitchen God's sake let the boy have another lolly!"  I am painfully aware that our daughter still has yet to pick out her treat - the selection of which is a long and drawn out process.  Let's just say she makes Hamlet look decisive.

Religion may be the opiate of the people but lollipops are the opiate of angry aliens.  Once he was clutching a lolly in each paw, the R.A. was downright cheerful.  He was happy to have the rare treat of two lollies but happier to know he had bested us.  The R.A. is always happier when he has bested us.  One would think he would be happy then pretty much all of the time as any reader of this blog would assume.

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