Being the party animal that he is, the R.A. made sure that the holiday season went off with a bang. And a few whimpers - mostly mine. He started the fun the day before Thanksgiving.
I knew I had a full plate that Wednesday night. As I drove home I concocted a thoughtful, well crafted, detail oriented plan to tackle all the things I needed to get done that evening: laundry, pick up take out dinner, bake, feed children, pick up my brother from the train station, collapse into bed. A lot to do and not a lot of time to do it in. Basically, when I got home I hit the ground running.
5:45 PM - Entered house and began load of laundry.
5:55 PM - Called in take out order
6:00 PM - Feeling very smug that everything is going according to plan. Riding tsunami of self congratulations.
6:05 PM - Rudely bitch slapped out of that fantasy. Went to fetch the R.A. from his room and was greeted by a grinning and crowing with delight R.A. who had not only disrobed but had piddled and pooed all over his room including his bed linens, one of his Teletubbies, and ironically enough, Winnie the Pooh.
6:06 PM - Seriously considering disemboweling self with a Dum Dum.
6:07 PM - Deposit a jubilant R.A. into the shower and commence cleaning his room. Also inaugurate feeling sorry for myself.
6:25 PM - Very wet tussle with R.A. as I attempt to pull him from the shower. R.A. is reluctant to exit shower.
6:28 PM - Damp tussle with R.A. as I wrangle him into clothes. R.A. is reluctant to dress.
6:30 PM - Realize I neglected to put Teletubby Po in the basement with the rest of casualties from the "Great Poo Incident of November 2013."
6:31 PM - Curse vigorously.
6:33 PM - Decide am too exhausted, cranky, mutinous, to schlep Po to the basement so bury her in the middle of my dirty laundry basket. Po must be buried deep or R.A. will surely grab her and roll around the floor with her, becoming one with her pooey goodness. Make mental note to take care of Po later.
6:33 PM - Immediately forget said mental note.
6:34 PM - Wrestle the R.A. into his coat so that he can accompany me to pick up the food.
6:35 PM - R.A. furiously yowls all the way to the restaurant.
6:39 PM - Manage to snag a cherry parking spot that is only located a half mile from the restaurant.
6:40 PM - Wrangle the R.A. from the car and begin to walk/drag him to the restaurant. He repeatedly caterwauls, "No, please!" Initially I am anxious that passersby might think a kidnapping was in progress and call the police on me. Quickly consider that jail cell would be a quiet place so maybe not such a bad thing.
6:41 PM - The heavens open and we are drenched with rain. R.A. roars in fury.
6:45 PM - Finally enter Olive Garden.
6:46 PM - Despite being over 20 minutes late to pick up our order and the restaurant being relatively empty, the food is not ready. Deposit a mewling R.A. into a nearby seat in the lobby. R.A. rips off his coat and throws it on the floor. He then begins a vicious verbal dressing down of adjacent decorative Christmas tree.
6:47 PM - Due to stress I have blurted out to the Olive Garden hostess that I hope I don't smell like poo. Not unexpectedly, she looks horrified and takes several steps away from me.
6:48 PM - Have just enough self awareness to be mortified and slink over to the R.A. Apparently the Christmas tree is still insolent as the R.A.'s tirade has become more fierce. Am feeling so upset that I am tempted to take my feelings out on the impudent Christmas tree.
6:50 PM - Well meaning yet naive waitress approaches the R.A. bearing a gift of color in kiddie menu and crayons. The R.A. rewards her kindness with savage snarling. Despite her gaffe, the R.A. snatches the items from her. The R.A. and I argue about him saying "thank you." Waitress flees. A few customers look like they want to join her.
6:51 PM - In a fit of pique the R.A. removes paper from the crayons and then breaks the crayons into tiny pieces. I am relieved he finally found something with which to occupy himself.
6:53 PM - R.A. has removed shoes.
6:54 PM - Impromptu shoe wrestling match interrupted by nervous looking hostess who tells us our order is ready.
6:55 PM - Engage in rigorous game of paying the bill/chase.
7:00 PM - Depart Olive Garden, leaving mass destruction in our wake. Kitchen staff applauds as we withdraw.
7:03 PM - Halfway to car the heavens open up again. R.A. attempts to climb into the Olive Garden bag.
7:08 PM - Head to McD for requisite nuggets and fries.
7:12 PM - R.A. still so enraged that person on other end of intercom at McD cannot hear my order over the monstrous caterwauling.
7:23 PM - Finally reach home. To punish me the R.A. refuses to eat and spends most of evening pacing, wildly gesturing, yowling, and ensuring that no one can see the television or hear it.
7:35 PM - Attempt to eat dinner. During this time the R.A. stops pacing and wedges himself behind me on my chair and proceeds to use my back to do leg curls.
8:00 PM -Feel the R.A. and I have had our fill of "quality time" and put him to bed.
8:01 PM - Realize holiday season has yet to begin but already feel as exhausted as if I had attended 3 consecutive Black Friday sales and engaged in several sets of fisticuffs.
8:02 PM - Immediately become unappealing cocktail of despair and fear.
8:03 PM - Ask Kitchen God to bring on the vaporization because it is the only way I am guaranteed a rest.
8:04 PM - Also ask Kitchen God to smite husband.
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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