Every regular reader of this blog knows that Mr. Little Man is autistic. Being the parent of any child always poses challenges. Being the parent of a child that is differently abled poses a completely different set of challenges; challenges that are often made difficult by strangers who feel the need to butt in and tell you what they think.
We got up early on Sunday morning and I realized that I needed to pick up a few things at the grocery store. As soon as we pulled into the parking lot Mr. Little Man said, "Ummm, no. NO, NO,
NO!!!" This is essentially his way of telling me he has no interest in going into the grocery store. Newsflash, neither do I. But it's a basic rule in life that if you want to eat you really need to go to the grocery store. I don't want to turn into the type of parent that shelters their child from everything. I see so many autistic kids whose parents just keep them at home because it's easier for both parent and child. And I know I've said this a million times, but I want my child to be a functioning adult. To be able to hold a job, and be independent and have a family. And keeping him out of the public eye and not forcing him to go out in public is not the way to make that happen.
I calmed him down, and gave him a toy and a juice box and I said a little prayer. The first half of the grocery store visit went well, and then it happened. Total autistic meltdown. A lot of people simply refer to this as a temper tantrum, but its so much more. Its a sensitivity to light and touch and smell and sound and its difficult for me and its difficult for him. Honestly, it had been such a long time since his last one that I had forgotten how severe they were. But he was trying to jump out of the cart, and he was screaming at the top of his lungs and crying and grasping for whatever he could get his hands on. Everyone was staring at us and I was doing whatever I could do to just get him to breathe normally and calm down. It wasn't working. And it was getting worse. And in the blink of an eye my self confidence took a nose dive and I pictured my child living in a group home surviving on government aide after I became too old to care for him (which really is the greatest nightmare that every parent of a disabled child faces). And then the tears just started to well up. And yeah, everyone was still staring at us.
Inevitably in every bad situation there comes a moment where you think that you've hit rock bottom; that really, this is as bad as its going to get. And thats when it ALWAYS gets worse. In my case it came in the form of a stranger who felt the need to butt in and tell me what he thought. He said, "If that were my child I wouldn't allow him to act that way in public."
Which means that in addition to having to hold down my child I had to now deal with this asshole. I was frustrated and angry and it took me about a millisecond to realize that this was the perfect opportunity to just let it all out, because guess what? Everyone is still staring. So I say (as calm as I can, of course), "He's not misbehaving you uneducated jackass. He's autistic and is having a hard day. And it is NOT OK for you to give your opinion." That is actually not what I wanted to say, but I was in the presence of my child, so I didn't want to break out the sailor speak; just trust me when I tell you that I can curse better than 99% of the population. The man started to say something else, but I just told him I didn't want to hear it.
Oddly enough this happens to me almost every time my child has a public break down. Some jerk feels the need to offer commentary on my parenting skills despite the fact that they know ABSOLUTELY nothing about the situation. Thats probably the first thing I am going to change when I become queen of the world. No more unnecessary commentary - and a whole lot more compassion.
When I finally got him home he pulled all of the blankets off his bed and piled them on his floor along with every stuffed animal he owns and he just laid there and calmed himself down. After about an hour he came to me and asked to sit on my lap and snuggle. He wanted me to run my hand up and down his back. And that always makes you feel bad for complaining about how hard it is to deal with a breakdown, because for me it was an INCONVENIENCE, but for him it was so TRAUMATIC that he needed to come home and isolate himself in his room and then curl up in his mother's lap and rock himself back and forth.
