If there is a reason I was given a son with Autism, besides the love I didn't realize I was capable of feeling, it’s because of how it changed me. I am more patient, loving, thankful, open-minded, and judgment free.
I recently read a poll in Parenting Magazine:
“Should restaurants have the right to ban loud or screaming children?”
49% said yes and 51% said no
Please tell me this question was given only to people who don't have kids. The explanations for yes responses ranged from, “when I was young, parents didn’t let their kids go wild,” to “let’s also ban kids from movies and libraries.” I'll have to remember that next time I want to bring my two little guys to the public library to look at and pick out books. And here I was thinking they were welcome there!
My favorite response is from our old friend Anonymous. Anonymous is a kitten in person but a fierce tiger when typing from well hidden behind their computer screen. Anonymous says that (s)he doesn’t understand why parents feel the need to inflict their brats on the public and are too cheap to hire a babysitter. Anonymous even compares screaming kids to drunks, but feels worse for the kids because they don’t choose to have inept parents.
Guess what, my husband and I CAN'T afford a sitter. There, I said it. And we both freelance around the clock, so when he is working I have the kids, and when I am working, he has the kids. So Anonymous, should I stayed holed up in my house? Am I not allowed to enjoy my life, get my errands done, and let my children get out in the world? Guess my kids are those drunks that got stuck with the inept parents you mentioned.
I could obviously go on and on about this, but I know we are already thinking the same things. Instead I want to tell you about my “moment” of acceptance for what I was given. I have mentioned this story before because it was a life changing moment for me.
In the summer of 2008, a 1 ½ year old Jaylen reached out to grab the door handle of a freezer in the grocery section of Target. I pushed the cart forward to make it impossible for him to open the freezer, willing him to accept change. Instant tantrum. Not a normal toddler tantrum, a full on Autism tantrum. He threw himself out of the cart and onto the floor. He writhed, kicked, and screeched at the top of his lungs.
I started to drip sweat and panic. I did everything I could to get him to stop. Toys, juice, snacks, threats; nothing worked.
As tons of onlookers stared, gawked, made faces, and muttered, something happened. It hit me that no one and nothing else mattered. Throughout his diagnosis process one of my best friends had said, “Who cares about anything except you and him. This journey will be all about you and him.”
And in that moment, as my son completely lost all control of his physical and mental self, I understood. I distinctly remember things were suddenly silent, and the store, the shoppers, the employees, the fabulous Target items all turned blurry. No, I wasn't about to pass out from a panic attack, it was the opposite, all seemed right. I smiled and looked at my son realizing it WAS all about me and him. In that moment, nothing else DID matter. The fit lasted 26 minutes, I still remember that exact number.
I used to give dirty looks and mutter. I used to wonder why people couldn't control their kids. And now I realize you don't know some one's particular situation. I guarantee many people that day thought I was a horrible mom and I couldn't control my kid. But they were off, way off. And I didn't care anymore. Since that day, I no longer care what happens in public. I am no longer embarrassed. I will never be embarrassed of Autism, my son, or my parenting. Ever.
When you see a kid throwing a fit, hitting their parent, screaming, kicking, or not listening, think before shooting that look or thinking the worst. You never know what their story could be. Divorce, death, illness, poverty or something else not present in your reality could be the culprit. And if you are someone getting the looks, tune it out. Accept what you've been given, as well as the harder task, accepting what others have been given also. It is about you and your kids, NO ONE ELSE!
I could obviously go on and on about this, but I know we are already thinking the same things. Instead I want to tell you about my “moment” of acceptance for what I was given. I have mentioned this story before because it was a life changing moment for me.
These are photos of Jaylen at 1 1/2. He always looked serious, one of those reasons we had suspicions.
In the summer of 2008, a 1 ½ year old Jaylen reached out to grab the door handle of a freezer in the grocery section of Target. I pushed the cart forward to make it impossible for him to open the freezer, willing him to accept change. Instant tantrum. Not a normal toddler tantrum, a full on Autism tantrum. He threw himself out of the cart and onto the floor. He writhed, kicked, and screeched at the top of his lungs.
I started to drip sweat and panic. I did everything I could to get him to stop. Toys, juice, snacks, threats; nothing worked.
As tons of onlookers stared, gawked, made faces, and muttered, something happened. It hit me that no one and nothing else mattered. Throughout his diagnosis process one of my best friends had said, “Who cares about anything except you and him. This journey will be all about you and him.”
And in that moment, as my son completely lost all control of his physical and mental self, I understood. I distinctly remember things were suddenly silent, and the store, the shoppers, the employees, the fabulous Target items all turned blurry. No, I wasn't about to pass out from a panic attack, it was the opposite, all seemed right. I smiled and looked at my son realizing it WAS all about me and him. In that moment, nothing else DID matter. The fit lasted 26 minutes, I still remember that exact number.
I used to give dirty looks and mutter. I used to wonder why people couldn't control their kids. And now I realize you don't know some one's particular situation. I guarantee many people that day thought I was a horrible mom and I couldn't control my kid. But they were off, way off. And I didn't care anymore. Since that day, I no longer care what happens in public. I am no longer embarrassed. I will never be embarrassed of Autism, my son, or my parenting. Ever.
When you see a kid throwing a fit, hitting their parent, screaming, kicking, or not listening, think before shooting that look or thinking the worst. You never know what their story could be. Divorce, death, illness, poverty or something else not present in your reality could be the culprit. And if you are someone getting the looks, tune it out. Accept what you've been given, as well as the harder task, accepting what others have been given also. It is about you and your kids, NO ONE ELSE!
I really hope Anonymous drops by and gives us some parental words to live by!
