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."

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Happy Easter!

I know I haven't posted for a while.  Depending on how you feel about this blog it's either a bad thing or a very good thing.

The week before Easter the R.A. was felled by yet another earth virus.  My husband said he must have gotten his dates mixed up as it was the week prior to a holiday.  The R.A.'s usual M.O. is to court illness either during a holiday or special occasion or immediately before so that it drastically impedes the celebration.  It's all part of his master plan to take over the planet.  This part focuses on psychological warfare.  FYI - It does work because now my husband and I get a little twitchy around any holiday as we anticipate the copious amounts of barf, the machine gun like barking coughs, and screechy all nighters (sometimes the screeching is actually the R.A. during these bouts of sickness but mostly it's my husband and I finally cracking under the strain.)

It was a nasty respiratory virus.  We hadn't seen the R.A. that sick since he was a baby and hospitalized with  RSV or was it the time he was hospitalized with the Rota Virus?  Or was it when he had baby bronchitis (which when you are a baby technically it's not bronchitis because your respiratory system is not fully developed but leave it to the R.A. to get it anyway)?  Where was I?  I guess that's not important.  But it does go to show how sick the R.A. was.  So although he was really, really ill my husband and I were relieved that we had dodged the traditional holiday bullet.

By the Monday of Holy Week we realized that we did not dodge the holiday bullet after all.  We stupidly underestimated how diabolical the R.A. was.  He wasn't going to allow us a holiday free pass.  He had merely changed up his game.  In a brilliant reverse move, on the Easter holiday we were all sick and the R.A. was the healthy one.  It was pure genius. If he had initiated the Invasion that day, I would have been the first to volunteer to be vaporized.  It would probably be the only way to clear my sinuses.

Well played, R.A.  You are the superior creature.

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