The humor in this blog is a stress reliever and believe me, my family needs it. If we didn't laugh at some of the situations we find ourselves in, we would dissolve into a puddle of tears. Autism does not just affect the R.A. but the entire family. As I've said before, it impinges on the entire family, dictating what we do, how we do, where we do, when we do. Sometimes it is hard and sometimes it is painful. And sometimes, seemingly out of the blue, I get what I call the "Big Blue Meanies." These are moments when I look into the R.A.'s big hazel eyes and I am overwhelmed by such sadness that I cry. I cry because I wish autism weren't holding him hostage. I cry because autism won't allow us to really know who he is. I cry because I am full of anguish, worried about his future. I cry because I can't live forever and take care of him forever and that scares the shit out of me. I cry because I love him totally and completely and powerfully and yet am so helpless to protect him from this villain known as autism. So sue me if I would rather laugh than cry. If I laugh, the Autism Monster isn't all that powerful.
I have described the R.A. in this blog and he isn't exactly attempting to hide his alien tendencies. Unlike Superman, the R.A. does not have a milquetoast alter ego that enables him to seamlessly blend into earth society. If the R.A. could verbally communicate his sentiments on this matter I believe it would be, "Screw earth society!" accompanied by a few furious yowls. In some ways the R.A. is also the Liberace of aliens in that he is over the top (but with less rhinestones and feathers.) No subtle stimming for him. If he is going to stim, it is going to be BIG - lots of loud caterwauls, grandiose hand flapping and vigorous toe jumping. He does not need a neon t-shirt that says, "Hey, check me out! I am different!" In short, his is not the type of activity that one usually sees at the market or your local restaurant or church. His activities often call attention to him and unfortunately some people can be real jack wagons about it. Unfortunately for them.
Those that know me, would not describe me as a confrontational person. I'm actually extremely shy and reserved. I am not one to stand up for myself. If someone cuts me in line in a store I will grumble (really, really softly so he or she doesn't hear me) but won't assert myself. Much to my husband's annoyance I hate to send food back or complain about service at a restaurant because I don't want to make a fuss and I know they will only spit in our food. If I do complain I will also apologize profusely because I don't want people to be upset with me (or spit in my food.) The boldest thing about me is a bathing suit tucked in the bowels of a drawer that I bought last year that I immediately regretted.
When it comes to my own person I may be cowardly but be warned, not when it comes to my kids.` The minute I perceive the slightest mean spirited smirk or hear remarks such as, "What's wrong with that kid?" or "Why don't they take him out of here?" a couple of switches go off in my brain. One switch shuts down the timidity. The other switch turns on the bad ass mother f@#$er. If you are ever around when this happens, duck and cover. My husband will attest that it is terrifying, which is telling, as he is not someone who backs down when he feels he has been slighted. When the "Switch" occurs I can see my husband cringe and attempt to warn the offenders. Then I shoot him a certain look and he knows he had better get the hell out of my way or be caught up in the wrath.
On one occasion my family was enjoying some outside time at a park (post allergy season). There was a sandbox that the R.A. was really liking, probably enjoying the novel sensation of toe jumping on sand. A mother was there with her two daughters and she looked at the R.A. like he was not only Godzilla but also transporting the Plague. Frantically she gathered up her children and scurried them not only out of the sand box but out of the park. I was more than a little offended and chased after her yelling, "Hey, Lady! He has autism and it's not contagious!" I actually ran after her SUV as it peeled out of the parking lot with my husband barreling after me begging me to stop.
And then there's church. Let's talk about church, shall we? Gandhi once said, "I'll become a Christian when I meet one." Some of the most un-Christian-like people you will ever meet are in church and it seems most of them belong to the church in our town which is why we belong to another parish in another city. No exaggeration but every time we have taken the R.A. to the church in our town we have had an R.A. related problem. Every single time. One time when a woman stupidly hissed, "What's wrong with that kid? They ought to get him out of here" I practically leaped over the pew while growling, "He has autism. You got a problem with that?" I probably would have given her a poke in the eye but my husband is extremely strong and managed to hold me down. Another time, after enduring unkind remarks through most of Mass, I turned to the couple behind me and said sweetly, "He has autism and we would be happy to answer any questions you have about autism. I do find we always get such a reception at this church that we joined another and are only here because we missed Mass at our own parish. Thank you so much for not changing our perception of this church." My husband looked like he wanted to hide under the pew but unfortunately he has bad knees and it would be pretty tough for him to crouch down there. It's not a good church experience when you spend most of Mass fighting the urge to slap people. Not very spiritually uplifting.
The other night we took the family to the mall because we had been experiencing a very rainy day and did a lot of indoor time together. Now I enjoy the whining, caterwauling, illegal climbing and other high jinx as much as anyone and illustrated this by remarking to my husband, "Get these people out of my house because I can't stand another moment with them." Much to my dismay he agreed but only if I accompanied them. As noted in an earlier blog, the R.A. is a big fan of the mall. I think it's like a freak zoo for him. He is so engrossed in people watching that he remains seated during an entire meal. It is awesome and one of the few instances where my husband and I can eat a meal uninterrupted and, here's a bit of a bonus, our food is still warm.
That night, after we ate, my husband removed himself to make use of the rest room. As the children and I sat I became aware of a group of young men at a nearby table. Initially I became aware of them because they were eating ice cream and I don't get to eat it that often and therefore am easily distracted by its appearance. But then I realized that they were laughing at the R.A. Switches On! I stood up so fast my chair slid across the waxed floor and into the table behind us - luckily it was unoccupied. My daughter, recognizing the signs of an impending ass whupping, begged, "Oh, no, Mommy!" I smiled at her and said I would be right back and to keep an eye on the R.A.
I high tailed my way over to the crowded table. I don't know who looked more surprised by my appearance, me or the young men. Let me begin by just mentioning a couple of things:
- They looked like the junior boys section of Hell's Angels.
- I realized that even though I was standing and they were sitting, they were still taller than I was.
- I didn't care about the above two realizations.
My husband returned from the bathroom and took the children on the food court merry go round. At this point my brain began to digest what I had just done and I was like, "Holy crap! Did I just bully future residents of Cell Block 8? They're going to make shivs out of their ice cream spoons and attack me in the mall parking lot!"
Although I am usually very good at guarding my emotions (not ever), my husband sensed something was wrong. The give away might have been my incoherent babbling about shivs and the violent shaking of my hands. Eventually my husband was able to translate my ramblings and got the story. He shook his head and probably made a mental note never to leave me unattended in public.
You have been warned, America.
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