All Political Correctness Aside

When I first started this blog, my intent was to document the daily ins and outs of raising an Autistic child in a humorous tone,because if you know me then you know that's how I handle most everything...with humor. And though some of my entries have been light, most of them have turned out to be on a more serious note. I guess I just thought that in the beginning I should cover some of the more heavy topics so readers could really get a feel for how Autism has affected our lives. And in future posts, I plan on getting back to the lighter side, because if there is one thing I don't want, it's for this blog to sound like a whining post....except for today. Well not necessarily whining, but somewhere along those lines. And for those of you who read and don't have an Autistic child, I hope you will understand that every now and then, just to get through the day, week or month, us parents of the spectrum need to have a moment where we can lose the smiles, lose the "I'm fine" look and basically just lose our cool and say..." Ya know, this Autism thing sucks!" Ok, so there, I said it. Again, if you know me, then you know that while there are moments on an hourly basis where this thought runs back, forth and all through my mind, most of the time I try to focus on what's right with Autism, and most inportantly whats right with Camryn. But today, a perfectly harmless event put me in the mood for a tiny violin, you know that kind they play at pity parties, so I decided to go home,break out the bow and squeak out a few tunes. One of my very best girlfriends in the world has two little girls, the same age as Mason and Camryn...9 and 7. And of course since we have been friends, about five years, it has occured to me on several occasions that her youngest and Camryn, though the same age, are so far apart developmentally. But that has never stopped her from treating my girls the same she would treat anybody elses kids and in fact, she has gone out with my kids and me when Camryn has been screaming and biting and basically flipping out and she never bats an eye, which I why I love her so. And the fact that her daughter is always doing the things that Camryn would be doing if she weren't Autistic really never bothered me. When her little one called yesterday to invite me to the schools Authors Tea to watch her read a book she wrote, it took no more than a second for me to say "Yes!" I love those girls like they are my own. So, when I walked into the classroom this morning and looked around at all the little first graders dressed in fancy dresses and sunday suits, I was surprised that  all of a sudden I felt sad. These little guys were Camryns age. Just like her they had toothless grins and dirty fingernails, each one of them cute as could be.And there they sat, quietly waiting their turn to read the masterpiece they had created for all their family and friends to hear. I just kep thinking, "This would be Camryn. This should be Camryn. But this is not Camryn." I really don't have these moments all that often anymore. I really have, for the most part, accepted that my 7 year old is different from that 7 year old and that seven year old and I am ususally okay with it. But for some reason today, I wasn't. And I think it's because I consider my friends daughter as one of mine. And looking at her up there, all dressed up, reading into the microphone like a big girl, I felt proud as if I were watching my own child, and then I remembered I wasn't. I was sitting in a regular education first grade classroom where Autism was a foreign word and IEP could stand for "Incredibly Excelling Pupils". There were no assistants to help with unruly kids, no time slot on the schedule reserved for Speech Therapy. No PEC boards or therpay balls. Nope this was first grade, the way it should be. And these were first graders, the way they should be, studying for spelling tests and complaining about homework. And while I was there watching them in all their first grader-ness, my first grader was across town in a Communcation Disorders class so far removed from this one. Spelling test? Let's master drawing a line first, then maybe we can talk letters. Homework? Ummmm, again, kinda hard to do when you don't read or write. She is nowhere near where these kids are and on any other day I could find a hundred positive things about her that make up for it. But not today, today I was just sad. Sad and jealous. And even though I smiled through it all, complimenting each one on their stories and outfits, I was dying inside. And as I congratulated each parent on their child and talked about how proud they must be, inside I was screaming "DO YOU KNOW HOW LUCKY YOU ARE? YOUR KID JUST STOOD UP THERE AND READ A BOOK HE WROTE HIMSELF! AND YOU JUST TAKE IT FOR GRANTED THAT HE CAN DO THAT AND  TONIGHT YOU WILL PICK HIM UP FROM SCHOOL AND ASK HOW HIS DAY WAS AND HE'LL ANSWER YOU!!AND THEN YOU'LL GET HOME AND TELL HIM TO GO PLAY AND HE WILL! AND YOU'LL EAT DINNER  AND HAVE A CONVERSATION WITH HIM AT THE TABLE. AND THEN YOU WILL PUT HIM TO BED,NO PULLUP NEEDED AND KISS HIM GOODNIGHT AND WALK OUT THE DOOR WITHOUT PUTTING THE BABY GATE UP SO THAT HE WON'T GET UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND SQUEEZE ALL THE SHAMPOO ALL OVER HIS BODY, PINCH AND SCRATCH HIS SISTERS,OR WALK OUT THE FRONT DOOR AND WANDER AWAY!" Of course while all this was going on in my head, I was just nodding and smiling, saying "Uh-huh, mm-hmm". Anyhow, I feel better now. It's amazing how therapeutic writing in all CAPS can be! And now I am over it. Think it, feel it, let it go. Thought, felt, gone! I'm already on to what to make for dinner tonight and more importantly if while I'm cooking it Camryn will poop in her pants,pull off her panties,dump the poop on the floor and then step in it and make poopy footprints all around her room,an act she likes to reserve for the dinner cooking hour. Maybe, maybe not. That's the thing with Cams, she keeps me guessing and that keeps things interesting, far more interesting than studying for a spelling test or practicing flash cards.