Sometimes, there are simply not enough cups of coffee in the world to get me through the day.
Don’t even get me started on my spoons.
There was a period of time where my morning alarm came in the sound of giggles and VeggieTales quotes from the next room over. By “period of time” I mean years. And by “morning” I mean o-dark-thirty. The spunky ball of energy making sure I was up is my daughter who was diagnosed with ASD at age 2 ½.
As I write this, we have just passed a decade from diagnosis. My, how things have changed.
I was a young Mom of two, newly married, receiving government benefits and just barely making it by. We dyed spaghetti noodles with food coloring to shake things up a bit. Our outings consisted of going to all the parks in the surrounding area and the grocery store once a week. Once the diagnoses came rolling in for the kids, I became a therapist on top of my motherly duties. Therapy was expensive, exclusive, and far away - especially for someone on government aid. The internet became my best friend. My house looked like an OT gym - yoga balls, trampoline, net swing - you name it, we had it.
I wouldn’t trade those moments for the world.
As a parent of two Autistic children, I know the struggle, the fear, the guilt, the pain, the existential dread that rides sidecar with the “normal” everyday struggles of daily living. However, I also know immense joy, love, compassion and empathy that squish all those other things out of the way. Whenever I meet a parent who has recently gotten their child’s diagnosis, I greet them with open arms and say, “Welcome to the club!” Because, truly, Autism is a beautiful journey.
I remember one time, I had a student say, “Autism sucks.” It broke my heart. I sat across from him and proceeded to tell him all the things I thought were amazing about him: an infectious smile and laugh, the incredible ability to draw complex mazes and screenshots from memory, and the compassion he had for his classmates. Autism is amazing and Autistics need to be told that.
My son is also Autistic. So, not only did I get one invitation to the Autism party - I got two! You couldn’t ask for two more different kiddos. My son sleeps like a champ and I’m so grateful at least one of them does. Other than marvelous sleeping habits, he has the most incredible memory - especially for history. His creativity is off the charts and has the ability to morph into numerous characters. Does he suck at math though? Absolutely. Does he have trouble with logic and sequence? You betcha. His brain works differently than most and that’s ok! That’s what supports are for. And, he and I are learning together, that high school support operates on a different plane of existence than middle school.
My daughter is super cool, too. She is incredibly independent, she’s funny, full of sass, and freaking LOVES slime. She understands way more than she lets on and we are grateful for a team that communicates so she doesn’t get away with any funny-business.
Autism is great. It’s also hard. Very hard. I would be lying to you if I said otherwise. It’s a lot of long, hard hours and sleepless nights but when you have those moments - those “a-ha!” moments, it makes it all worth it. It was years - YEARS - until I first heard “I love you Mommy” from my kids. And I treasure those moments. I treasure the first “I luh oo” and the first full “I love you, Mommy”. My life has been enriched because of my kiddos. If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t have gone down my career path - first in special education, then adult services, and now behavior analysis.
Disability is beautiful. Each person is unique and brings something awesome to the table. We need to acknowledge that - privately AND publicly. Tell people how awesome they are - it means so much, especially when they’re running low on coffee and spoons.
Thanks for stopping by.
I am glad you exist.
