Here, a mother shares her disappointment in her family of origin's response to her daily autism reality. For her own, personal reasons, she is not ready to share her feelings with them (at least in this forum). So, I offered her - and other "out" bloggers - a quite, safe house, for when they have something to say that's too raw, too personal or too whatever for their own blogging space. She has a fantastic blog, but I cannot tell you about it here, because she has now joined my circle of trust.
I'm delighted to welcome my first guest blogger. If you are interested in guest posting (anonymously or in all your glory), please email me at whacamolelife@gmail.com...because I really could use the day off.
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My Family Just Doesn't Get It
Since my husband had to work long hours all weekend anyway, I decided to take the boys on a five-hour journey across state lines to see my family. I'd like to go back to when I made that decision and talk myself out of it.
I know at the time, I was feeling a bit homesick and nostalgic. I missed summers as I knew them. I missed the big extended family gatherings. I missed being on acreage. I can officially say I am now cured for awhile.
I had told the family prior to the visit that the boys are autistic. That the little one has several severe food allergies. They said, "OK." They even seemed to understand a little. It seemed too good to be true. I should've known then that I was walking into a trap.
When we arrived, I got peppered with questions about the boys and autism. Almost everything I said was met with, "but most kids are like that." If I heard that phrase again, I was going to throttle someone. Thankfully as it became less and less apparent that "most kids are like that," they stopped saying it.
They may think I didn't notice the looks, but I did at meals. Yes, I let my younger child get up from the table before everyone else was done eating and go play. Yes, I made him a separate dinner. It was for our collective sanity in the situation. Just be thankful my older child not only tried what you cooked, but ate it all. Normally he'll take a plate full and then decide about five bites in that he in fact doesn't like it. This is only after he's sat and played with it long enough for the plate to get cold and icky.
Newsflash: kids get dirty when they play outside. No, I did not allow my children to play in the pond. There are snapping turtles in it, and the top was covered in algae due to the hot, dry weather. Yes, contrary to what you think, I was watching them ALL day. In the off chance I went to pee (heaven forbid), the cousin whose child they were playing with had an eye on them. Plain old dirt causes black feet too, and I find it funny that I had to wash them to let them in the house for a bath.
I got an eye-opening experience to what a gossip you are, dear aunt. I can only imagine what you will be saying about us since we left. I really don't care. I bent over backwards to try to make sure my boys conformed to your anal ways (even by their OCD standards). It was just too exhausting to stay with you. Next time, we'll either choose someone who remembers what it's like to have children (and central air), or we'll just get a room of our own at the nearest hotel. It will be best for all involved.
When someone didn't remember us, and you reminded them we're "the PA relatives," I am now almost relieved. I am over five glorious hours away from the gossip and drama that you all endure - living within about a 20-mile radius of each other. I am homesick for my family no longer, and I am thankful to my one aunt who was packing a flask and made me a gin with a splash of tonic at the family picnic to make my stay a little more bearable.
