My older son Henry, Tommy's big brother, has autism. I'm sure you noticed that he was acting strangely Monday. I'm sure you noticed that we kind of kept to ourselves. And maybe you've never seen someone with autism before, so I thought I'd clue you in.
Even those of us who know Henry best have a hard time discerning what happens at times like this. We had talked about going with Tommy's class to the pumpkin patch for weeks. Henry didn't have school and it was my birthday, so we planned this as a very special outing. I think Henry gets very excited about activities like this, but also feels uneasy- unsure what to expect and anxious because of his excited feelings.
Maybe when I tried to talk him into leaving his books in the car I got us off to a bad start. He ended up bringing them with him, but perhaps thought I was mad? Or perhaps he was disappointed in himself because he knew I wanted him to leave them in the car, but he just couldn't? I tried to reassure him, to tell him it was fine. That's when we were stopped in the parking area, hugging, while Tommy ran ahead with some classmates.
You'll remember that there was a lot of waiting in line- to enter the farm, and then again to snake through the little store and get our donut and apple cider. Henry was wanting my attention the whole time- saying things like "I'm not going to pick out a pumpkin. I'm never going to carve a jack-o-lantern," and wanting me to reassure him. And when I tried to chat with some of you other parents Henry decided to get my attention by stepping on his brother's foot, or pushing. So, sorry that I didn't get to chat with any of you. It's nothing personal.
It didn't help that some of the reassurances I tried: "maybe you'll feel better after you eat your donut", ended up backfiring when we had to throw our snacks away and flee from the swarms of bees.
The other kids were loud and wild and some little ones were crying. Henry doesn't like any of that. And he isn't physically adept enough to keep up in that barn full of hay that his brother was leaping around in like a madman.
Henry did like the "petting zoo" (pen full of goats), and he found a couple quiet places to sit and look at his books. But again, he wanted me with him for reassurance. And that's not really fair to my other son.
And then there was that looooong wait to get on the hayride. That was really agonizing, as those of you know who were standing around us. I mean, your kids were impatient too, but they weren't whining and repeating the same things over and over and trying to provoke their siblings. Well, ok, maybe they were. Maybe that part isn't really autism-specific. But I felt bad because a couple times I got fed up and got down to Henry's level and said "THAT'S ENOUGH! I really don't like the way you're acting. You're making me really frustrated!" And then Henry's lip would quiver and tears would come into his eyes.And at that moment I would remember that, as uncomfortable as I was feeling? He was feeling 50 times worse. He was just feeling really uneasy, and doesn't know how to soothe himself, aside from looking to me to make it better. And the only way I could really have made it better would have been to get out of that line and walk back to the car and drive away. But that wouldn't have been fair to my other son- the one who was behaving perfectly that day and who deserves to not have his fun messed up.
So we stood there and stood there and stood there- I literally had my back to all you other parents for like half an hour- trying to help Henry keep it together. And then we finally got on the wagon. And Henry seemed relieved- didn't he? Like he was glad to finally be getting on with the next part of this adventure. And to you, Max's mom, who took our picture so many times, it was really something when Henry sat down next to you on the wagon and said "I'm having a rough time." I was impressed that he expressed himself that way. I'm a little freaked out that he would just open up like that to a stranger, but I had a good feeling about you, after seeing you interact with your kids and others while we were waiting in line, so maybe Henry got a good vibe from you too.
And the kicker, of course, was after we all loaded back onto the wagon with our pumpkins. Did you all hear Henry stand up and proclaim "this is the best field trip EVER!"?
So that's the contradiction of autism- my family's manifestation of it, at least. I had a generally pretty crappy time at the pumpkin patch. But it's likely that Henry will remember it as the best field trip ever. Hopefully Tommy will remember it as such also. And I guess that's what matters.
8 comments:
Oh my! Yes, we've been there, done that, experienced it in exactly the same way countless times. Let go of what didn't work, and know that yes, both your boys will remember this day as a great outing.
Ahh, Henry, I feel for you. And I feel for you, Gretchen. I also have been there. I understand the tug between making the typical child and the autistic child both happy. But, it's true that all that matters is that you did it and it was the best field trip ever for your boys, both of them.
Oh yes - been there, done that, am scheduled to do it again in a couple of weeks. This time we have help! I'm excited to see if this year's pumpkin patch outing is a success - or at least less painful.
I'm so glad to hear that Henry expressed himself to someone other than you (and to see that you recognize it!) and that he declared it a fun trip after all. Tommy certainly looked like he was having fun.
Happy birthday (perhaps belated)...
Thank goodness our kisd are generally pretty accepting and forgiving, huh? I mean, Henry will forget all the awful stuff and just remember the good. And opening up to Max's mom? That's pretty awesome, I think.
While it might not have looked like the picture you had in your mind, it sounds like there were some successes there worth celebrating.
And Tommy? A trooper, for sure! :-)
Ay, Gretchen :-/ What a crappy feeling to feel like you're taking from one to help the other. This happens too much with this whole business of one kid having autism.
I'm glad they both had a good time in the end.
Okay. Maybe it's because I had such an incredibly crappy day myself, but I just cried at this post. I don't have the Tommy in this scenario, but I have the impatient, overstimulated, whining, perseverative, pushing (other kids!), "Best time ever!" kid. And, I could feel your anxiety as you waited in line (probably sweating because you just wanted to stop wrestling with Henry before you had the panic attack!).
It was kind-of what Rick said about that stupid article that I posted a few months ago: "each passing minute in a situation like that (church, for example) is another minute of hope that it might just work: that the child just might be able to experience things. We're not any different than other parents who want their kids to be able to participate and experience things with us. So, when it doesn't work, that's hard enough. People need to learn to just give the kids and the parents a break."
I like what Kristenspina said: "Let go of what didn't work." Maybe we need to learn to give ourselves a break, too.
I feel for you. I have the same combo of kids, and I tell you, it is heartbreaking, frustrating and exhilarating all at the same time.
Don't be hard on yourself.
My asd daughter is 11 and my older, typical daughter is 14. We have had many many many many experiences like this one.
Where we are now is sad: my older daughter begs me to keep the younger one home when she has a violin recital or play or really any event at her high school. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't, but it is so painful to me, especially when I understand completely why.
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