To: R.A.'s Dad (luckybastardrelaxing@work.org)
From: R.A.'s Mom (whatinhelldididoinapastlifetodeservethis@tearingmyhairout.com)
Date: June 27, 2013. 6:45 PM
Sorry your knee is so painful. It sounds like they drained a lot of fluid from it. It's probably best that you went into work as you have a better time resting there than here. The R.A. is not only on 11 but it's like he's on 11 AND on steroids that one would only give to a big game animal. Tonight while I was making your daughter her dinner he somehow found a black marker (thankfully NOT a Sharpie.) He then proceeded to climb not only on top of my bureau but on top of my tiered jewelry box and then scribbled all over one side of the indoor shutter, the adjacent wall and the mirror on the bureau. It was pretty amazing that he managed to cram in so much climbing and so much scribbling in such a short span of time - no doubt due to those steroids. After loudly declaring my surprise at finding such a prolific amount of spontaneous art, the R.A. and I engaged in some Greco Roman Baby Wrestling as I attempted to pull him down from the jewelry box. That was actually Round One of the match. Round Two occurred when we wrangled over the marker. I finally managed to wrest it away from him and threw it out. Round Three was more of a combination of wrestling and water polo as that happened when we washed our hands. By this point the R.A.'s initial indignation at being denied the right to artistically express himself had now graduated on to self righteous rage. Once his hands were cleaned, he flounced out of the bathroom and into our room. He then threw himself on our bed a la Bette Davis. This rare moment of petulance was the least active moment he'd had all night so I took advantage of the relative calm and cleaned the mirror after which we glared at each other for several moments. I then put on the "Mickey Mouse Club House" for him while he sulked on the bed. We exchanged a few more glares. I then removed myself to his room to tidy it up as he had engaged in his customary after school activity of using his bed and toys to re-enact the Vandals sacking Rome. Less than five minutes later I returned to our room to discover that the R.A. had retrieved the marker from the trash (which meant he had to dig down deep because I buried that sucker) and was once again at it, this time seeming to pay particular attention to the mirror. He took one look at me, tossed the marker and pitched a bloody fit at again being interrupted. I responded by pitching my own fit. We roared at each other for a bit and then embarked on Round Four of our version of Greco Roman Baby Wrestling. This time he took the offensive and actually lunged off of the bureau at me. Fortunately our fall was cushioned by the bed. The R.A. took advantage of my being momentarily stunned to chin the dickens out of both of my hands as well as my shoulder all the while caterwauling for Britain. I think his alien curses are still orbiting the earth. I admit that by this point I was exhausted and opted not to wrangle him into the bathroom for a wash up. Instead I elected to use your pillow case to wipe him down. I know you don't mind and if you do won't dare mention it. Currently the R.A. is laying on our bed watching TV while shooting me sporadic dirty looks. That's ok because I am shooting them right back. Apparently all the wrestling and scribbling has tuckered him out as the glowering is sporadically interrupted by huge yawns.
I forgot to mention that the vacation days I was supposed to take next week have been revoked. Not only that but I have to work all weekend as well as the holiday. I also have to stay at work over night pretty much the entire week. Bummer. And isn't the R.A. on school vacation next week? Too bad.
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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