'Tis the season...

It's that magical time of year again. The days between Thanksgiving and Christmas used to be my absolute favorite. Most of my cherished childhood memories center around family and the winter holiday season.

Not anymore.

I felt kind of down today...blue and moody, and it took me a while to figure it out. Tomorrow I only have to work half a day, the next day is Thanksgiving, and then I don't go back to work till Monday. The kids are off now...

Ahhh...there we go. The kids are out of school till Monday. Stephen (okay, so calling him "S" got old)...out of routine, off schedule, off kilter...and it all makes sense now. No longer are holidays or breaks from school something I look forward to and anticipate. Now, I dread them in a great many ways. How will we manage him? How can I possibly explain to him that it's Thursday but he doesn't go to school? This sweet, innocent boy has no concept of holidays or what they mean.

And so it goes. Yet another one of those things I file under "Things that Suck about Autism." Holidays have become yet another source of stress...not the intended time to relax and enjoy family and friends that it's kind of supposed to be. Throw into the mix the fact that we ALWAYS go to my parents' house (because nobody else knows what the hell to DO with us) and that I'll more than likely spend half my time jumping up from the table to go adjust the TV or read to Stephen on demand...well, you can see that our Thanksgiving table is rather anti-Norman Rockwell. Sigh.

Stephen will probably eat a sumptuous feast of tater tots and chips. Ugh. His poor diet is only one of the things I worry about all the time. That in turn brings to mind some of the really WEIRD things about his autism. Like...when I'm driving him to school, I can't rest my left elbow on the driver's side door. Not allowed. He reaches forward and pushes on my shoulder till I put my arm down. And, he will only eat certain foods out of certain bowls...don't dare to put the chips into the cheese puff bowl. Stuff like that sounds funny, and I guess in a way it is...but mostly it's just bizarre and occasionally mentally trying.

As I was thinking about the things I wanted to address in this entry, I was reminded of a story that was given to me not long after Stephen was diagnosed. Maybe you've heard of the heartwarming story called "A Trip to Holland"? Here's a link for your reading pleasure - people less battlescarred and cynical than moi, make sure you have a hanky handy: http://www.angelfire.com/ky/touristinfo/holland.html

Obviously this story was written with excellent intentions. I shed a few tears over it myself, way back when. It's a charming little concept, when you think about it. Having a typical child - why, that's a trip to Italy. A charming, cultured, gorgeous place with spectacular food and wine. And, so we're told by the story, having a special needs child is like a trip to Holland when you were EXPECTING to go to Italy. Different, yes, but look around and enjoy Holland for what it has to offer!

Okay. I call foul here. I don't buy it, not anymore. I still want Italy! After more than five years of my exile in Holland, I want Italy! I don't find Holland cute or happy or ADEQUATE. The Rembrandts? They're cheap imitations. The tulips? Plastic. In short, I don't care for this place, and if I never saw another windmill or pink-cheeked lad, that would be fine with me.

And this part? "The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place." Oh, sure. Ever dealt with an autistic child with a stomach virus? How about diarrhea in a 7 year old kid wearing PullUps? Gotten a bloody nose from being headbutted by a kid who doesn't WANT to put on his coat, dammit?

I think I'll write a new anecdote..."A Trip to the Slums of Calcutta" - it won't be pretty but it'll be real. I guess the main point here is that the sunny, feel-good "Holland" story doesn't comfort me. It makes me feel guilty, and god knows I don't need THAT. If I'm supposed to somehow ENJOY Stephen's autism, then I'm out of luck. Because I don't. I hate it.

"But...if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things...about Holland."

That's just it, isn't it? There's nothing very special and very lovely about this. My son is precious and adorable and lovable, but those qualities shine through in spite of the autism...not because of it.

As we make our way into the holiday season, I'd like to wish everyone who takes time out of their day to read my ramblings a happy Thanksgiving - I hope you have a peaceful and wonderful time with family and friends. And if you're making out your Christmas list and want to include Stephen...

Put him down for a first class ticket to Italy.