Autism & The Cute Quotient

I'm not entirely sure when Autism stopped being cute.

Back in the day, Finian was met with indulgent smiles when he flung himself into the arms of strangers.  He was chubby and cuddly and loudly generous with hugs.  His disregard for boundaries disarmed the most defended of people.  He took Cute, blended it with feral vitality, and unleashed his own irresistible brand of Lovable onto the world. There was no-one he couldn't charm.

Then, in the space of a few disorientating months, he sprouted body hair and grew 3 feet taller.  

The once compact, rosy-cheeked, ankle-biter scaled up into a man-sized Jitterbug, composed mostly of knees and elbows.  

He began to scare people.

Ngl, it was kinda a shock.  

I'm a card-carrying Irish mammy.  I am blessed with the unshakeable knowledge that I have given birth to the Most Beautiful Children Who Have Ever Existed....... but even I can see that Finian is at risk of becoming known for all the wrong reasons.  My son's deceptively adult body is governed by a banana republic with a drunk toddler managing the war cabinet ..... but all this limited world can perceive is an alarming eccentric with little regard for social convention.

It's my job to keep him as safe as I can in a world not designed for the neurodivergent.

There's nothing about this in the DSM.  There's no graduation ceremony, graph or flow chart to give us a heads-up.  We don't receive slices of cake, or HSE memos, or milestone reminders, indicating that the Delightful Quotient has degraded from Enchanting AF into Social Menace territory.

Special needs parents have to figure things out for themselves.  We have to be clear-eyed about what can make our kids lives difficult, and be creative with how we circumvent future hardship.

Finian is an unpredictable pre-schooler inhabiting the body of a nineteen year old man.  My task is to be his tree in the storm;  I need to have strong roots anchored deep in safe earth, with flexible branches that bend with the wind.  Because I enjoy a stretchy metaphor so much, I also need to be the leaves that evolve with seasons and create beauty out of air and earth.  No small task.

Flexibility, the willingness to embrace change, is central to the wellbeing of our special needs kids.  When we bend, we won't break.

Autism & Getting Weird

Change is always weird.

This particular transition knocks weird outta the park, though, as polarised stop/go events have me scratching my menopausal beard in bewilderment.

There's a lot happening, and nothing happening at all.  

We're getting ready to start the slow integration of Finian into adult services.  The whole process has taken the better part of a year.  There have been long periods of silence, punctuated by mad flurries of activity.  Next week he's going to attend for an hour for 2 days, with the intention of eventually working up to a full week.  I'm encouraged by their client-centredness, but I have to own that I'm worn out by the protracted nature of proceedings.  It feels like I've been holding my breath for a long time.

Finian has been expressing his anxiety in his own unique way.  

He's been picking the paint off woodwork in the dead of night, waking us up to inform us that he's turned into a giant, nocturnal mouse.  "The paint is scratched" has become a mantra I will never use in meditation.  

The distressed look (both woody and parental) is now big in our house.

He's pica-ing like a boss.  I found him having a good old chew on the dog's toy bone a few times.  Finno has an immune system made mostly of pig iron, so he'll probably give some exotic disease to Milo rather than the other way round.  I'm now watching the pooch for signs of Dengue Fever or Chagas Disease.  Meanwhile, Finian is healthy as an ox, with beautifully shiny, white teeth.

He's been blindsiding me with blitzkrieg meltdowns, in that he's binned the usual escalations I can work with.  Normally I like surprises, but I've discovered I prefer the ones that are wrapped and expensive.  To this end, for my birthday, I would definitely prefer a sparkly piece of jewellery than a conniption.  

Just sayin'

I've caught him peeing into the drains outside.  I don't know if this is anxiety related, or if he's just being a lazy-arse.  It's been a dry month, so maybe it'll do the roses good anyway.  Not too bothered about this one.

In addition, my daughter has moved into college accommodation.  I miss her like mad but am also delighted for her.  There's a feeling of not quite knowing what to do with myself, while being savagely proud of the focussed young woman she has become.

So these changes seem to be laced with some kinda ambivalent identity disorder.  They're behaving like feral children who had too many blue m&ms and aspartame-flavoured bubbles at a party. Meanwhile, there's only so much beard scratching I can do before my face falls off. 

my actual face