The trials and patience

Sitting in McDonalds this morning enjoying a cup of coffee, I am reminded of the time many years ago when I came to this same establishment with a friend and two of my boys--Joel and Jordan. They were quite young, maybe 3 and 6 or so with Joel being the oldest. My friend and I decided to get a cup of coffee and I thought the boys would enjoy a pancake and orange juice.

Taking their orders, getting their drinks, and setting them down in a booth, I returned to the counter to get the rest of the food. Suddenly I and everyone in McDonalds heard a blood-curdling scream that made everyone jump, fearing the worst. Joel and Jordan had an altercation in the manner that most boys have, particularly brothers (believe it or not, I had a few with my brother here and there). It was sort of variation on property rights and seat location--"I want to sit here." "No, this is my spot." "My juice is here." "That's my juice," etc. While we try to teach our children of the time and place for altercations and we certainly we want instill in children a sense of public decorum, children do not always subscribe to the adult models.

We have all experienced the bad behavior of children and we inevitably find ourselves in judgment over the handling of that behavior. Rather than blame the child, we generally look at the parent in disgust, wondering why that parent cannot handle the situation better. There may be a part of us that knows children are unpredictable and that even the finest parenting skills cannot solve all problems, yet we still tend to pass judgment, in a form of removal and assigning responsibility. This is a major issue facing parents of autistic children and one that will be addressed more later.

Back to the problem at hand. Joel's inappropriate scream was beyond that of a normal 6 year old frustrated with his brother. It was a scream disproportionate to the situation, a variation of the schizophrenic emotional outburst not matching the stimulus. Whatever...it was loud and scary. In a mixture of horror and amusement, I quickly moved to the boys, hugged Joel to get him calmed down, solved the problem, and assuaged the grave concern of the customers present. All was well.

This scene is typical of the kind of thing we faced as parents of an autistic child. Joel could not, and still has trouble, contain his own emotional reactions. When a situation did not match his expectations, when the order became disordered, when the prescription failed, he reacted in the extreme. We did not know when that would happen or even what to do. But it taught us to be prepared, to work at meeting his expectations, and to remain isolated when possible. Medication has helped him but he still struggles a bit with this, now manifesting itself in other challenges.

We learned patience, preparation, and protection in our raising of Joel. This is part of the joys and sorrows of having an autistic child.