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, May 7, 2012

Happy Happy einvajdhltshdkd Day


I think last night/excruciatingly early this morning was some sort of alien holiday because the R.A. was up in the wee hours making quite merry.  If the giggling and high pitched squealing are any indication, he had a terrific time for himself.  I believe there were a lot of "So two earthlings walked into a bar..." jokes as the hilarity was off the charts.

The R.A. had such a good time that he never went back to sleep.  When my husband got him his breakfast, instead of being crabby from sleep deprivation, the R.A. was still giddy.  I guess he thought the holiday was also celebrated on earth because he was unpleasantly surprised to find out that he had school today.  The minute his father said the "s" word, the R.A.'s entire demeanor transformed from "Rat Pack" jocularity into raging mad man:  "What?  Are you kidding me? I have school?!  I never would have stayed up all night if I'd have known I had school!  Don't you dimwitted earthlings know it's einvajdh;ltshdkd?  Why everyone in the galaxy knows it's the most wonderful holiday in the universe!  It's the day we commemorate the birth of the great Chinning Master, eifhdkdhds!  Yowl!  YOWL!  CaterWAUL!"  The R.A. then proceeded to angrily stomp around the second floor, yowling in fury.  We just maneuvered our way around him. When he gets that worked up, it's just best to give him a wide berth.  Any physical contact is a guarantee that he's just going to chin the heck out of whatever limb he can latch on to.  And that kid has a very pointy chin.  OUCH! 

Eventually the R.A. stomped his way down to the first floor, no doubt feeling his rage was too great to be limited to one floor.  As I headed down the stairs I ran into him on his way up.  He was clutching something in his little fist, waving it around in a vicious temper and snarling furiously.  I got the impression that whatever the R.A. was grasping, he found greatly offensive.  The R.A. has a tendency to snatch papers that are important (progress reports, jury duty summons, school permission forms, etc.) so I told him to give me the paper.  I gathered from his response - accelerated growling and more animated paper waving - that he was inclined not to surrender the paper.  We then enjoyed a modified version of Greco-Roman baby wrestling.  Modified because, as I was unclear what the document he had clutched in hand was, I had to carefully attempt to remove it without ripping it.  (For some reason my daughter's school gets all snippy when field trip forms are returned to school with massive amounts of scotch tape all over them.  The R.A.'s school is far nicer about taped together documents.  I mean, it's not like we don't return the forms signed.  Isn't that the point of the stupid things?)  I finally managed to wrangle the paper out of the R.A.'s tiny fist of iron.  He emitted a final indignant screech and flapped both hands at me as if to say, "Fine!  You think you're so smart?  You can have it!"  The R.A. then stomped back down the stairs, tossing alien curse words over his shoulder.  Did I mention that we also engaged in our wrestling match while situated on the stairs?  Thrill seekers that we are, "regular" Greco-Roman baby wrestling matches no longer produce the heart stopping excitement that they once did.  This morning's match looked like something out of a low, low, low, budget Errol Flynn swash buckler.

When I finally managed to examine the much fought over document, I realized it was the order form for my daughter's school uniform.  I don't know why it provoked such ire in the R.A.  Some theories:
  • Uniforms are morally offensive on the home planet.
  • He objected to the prices of the garments.  Sure, you spend that much on her but me you take to the New Balance outlet for factory seconds sneakers!
  • He was jealous that his school did not require uniforms.  I would rock those tan dockers!  I would also insist on certain accessories such as monocles for all students. They would go quite well with our walking sticks.  I see us all as embodying the 'country gent' look.
  • Perhaps the R.A. was placed in charge of prisoner uniforms for when the Invasion finally comes and he realized that the uniforms he spent hours designing looked exactly like those on the order form.  He probably dedicated vast quantities of time researching colors and fabrics and was enraged to discover his sister's earthling grammar school had stolen his thunder.  All that work for nothing.  And worse, he had the same taste as the uncultured and uncouth earthlings!  The humiliation!
The R.A. spent all day stewing about having to go to school on einvajdh;ltshdkd and about the flap with the school uniform order form.  He had the last yowl though as he threw up all over his father.  If the home planet's adage, "He who vomits most, wins" is true, the R.A. is the most successful alien from his planet to ever have been forced onto an exploratory mission.

Happy einvajdh;ltshdkd Day! May the vomit not be with you.

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