Tonight I sat at a restaurant table with four other women. We were just a bunch of moms out for a night together without kids. Typical.
Or were we?
We talked about what moms discuss–messy houses, hopes for our children, the holidays, etc. We laughed like other moms laugh, and we sobered and teared up just like other moms do.
But we weren’t typical. Our kids aren’t typical. Unless you mean typical examples of the diversity of the spectrum known as autism.
Our messy homes are the result of obsessive children who can’t leave alone the tiniest loose thread or smallest chip of paint in a wall. Their need to pull or pick at has left its mark on our homes. The unintended destruction in our homes if from children who don’t realize how rough they are being or just have to smash and crash into things. The plastic furnishings are to keep them safe.
We discussed the holidays, and how we were trying not to alter schedules so that our routine-sensitive children wouldn’t melt down. We laughed about how holiday pictures are so challenging, and that’s another reason we don’t have many family pictures. We mentioned that we wished other people would understand we would be quite happy with a holiday that didn’t have extra trimmings, that daily life is stressful and we’d be just as happy resting instead of making sure all the holiday festivities got checked off the list.
Hopes for our children–yeah we talked about that. Like any other group of moms, we listened, leaning forward intently, nodding our heads. We celebrated each child’s success–a new two-word phrase or the composure to say “hello” to another teenager. You would have thought we were celebrating a college scholarship.
Nope. We’re just a group of autism moms. We get together once a month. We’re pretty varied, just like the spectrum that brings us together. But when we sit around a table and share our frustrations and successes, we’re united. We’re friends.
And that’s powerful when so many times, we feel very alone.
Thank you, SM2 ladies! Thank you for being my friends.
