These days, when I’m out and about , I notice that you notice. You notice that there’s something different about my son. Because he’s 4. He’s not a little kid anymore. Plus he’s also the height of a 1st grader so that makes it extra confusing. Regardless, you notice that he’s quiet or that he needs a lot of redirection or that we step out for a few minutes sometimes to have a sensory break. Because when he was younger it was easy to blame him not looking at you or saying “hi” from the shopping cart on him being tired. But now, he’s too big to sit there. So we take two carts. And daddy and Ari shop from one and Caleb and I use the other to play. Nothing in particular. But we stay in one spot and just simply practice being in stores and doing things typical families do and I understand how we have to go about that looks a little different.
Did you see us at Fenderz and notice that Daddy had to take Caleb outside two times to walk around in the grass while we waited for our food? Thanks for not prying or judging but simply offering him a pack of crackers and extra crayons. But did you also see us this past Saturday at El Parral and notice how we sat nicely from start to finish and didn’t mind waiting or sharing our food with sissy? We have successful days and we have challenging days. But we never stop going places. Because we won’t learn and grow if we’re home bound. And I have developed a strong ability to have blinders to people around us when we’re out so don’t bother shooting your judgy eyes my direction because I won’t see them. I’m too busy helping my kid.
We’ve taken up residence at the skating rink recently. Caleb and his sister like it there. I like it there. Maybe it’s because it doesn’t feel like we stick out like a sore thumb when we’re there. The music from the DJ booth is loud and you can’t talk over it so no one notices that he’s quiet. He laughs and plays games in the arcade like other typical kids. But mostly, I love that he’s the youngest one out there skating without help because it’s hard to find things when we’re around typically developing kids that he’s the best one at. And it’s not a contest. It’s never a contest. It’s a marathon, not a sprint- I know and believe all of those cliches. But I’ve gone 4 years watching everyone else’s kid lap mine developmentally and it’s nice to see mine rocking it. That’s fair. Yesterday we skated for an hour and a half and for that time we were out on the rink, it felt like Autism was locked up in the rental locker with our tennis shoes. Sometimes, it’s nice to just have a minute to breathe.
So, ironically, the skating rink, with it’s loud music and flashing disco lights, is where we find our peace. I don’t notice people noticing anything because there’s not much to notice. And it’s ok that eventually we turn in our skates and walk to the car and sometimes have a tantrum because all of a sudden we stop and realize that we’re tired and thirsty and that’s a lot to have to process and communicate for a kiddo like mine. And we go back to being noticed (especially by the cashier in the Wendy’s drive thru as we try to order Frosties while Caleb screams from the back seat). But it’s easier to turn everything back “on” when we got 90 minutes to skate away our worries while Katy Perry serenaded us at the roller rink.
I hope your family has its own happy place too 🙂
Love, Autism, and roller skates,