Are you sitting down?

Because you're about to be blown away. So, the kids and I went to Target this morning to pick up a few things. Seth was NOT having much fun. He was so ready to leave, but if I made the effort to get there I wanted to get everything I needed. It was getting bad. Seth was running away from me and hiding, screaming, etc. Pretty embarrassing stuff. Ella started feeding off of it and I finally decided it was time to get out of there. I squatted down on the floor and whispered to the kids that we were going to go check out and go home. I asked them to be patient for just a couple more minutes while we bought our things. I had a couple of the "looks" while I was squatted there trying to keep Seth from screaming and throwing himself on the floor. I'm pretty use to the "look" though, so I didn't worry too much. Yeah yeah, my kid's a brat, whatever. At least I know he's not really a brat, there's something wrong. So, I go to the only open checkout lane and start putting my things up on the lane. I'm holding Ella in one hand and she's fussy. Seth was running around in the front of the store by the doors - no screaming, just running in circles. All of a sudden I hear the woman in front of me say, "If she can't keep those kids under control, she shouldn't be allowed to bring them in public and ruin it for the rest of us". Here is how the rest of it went...

Me: Excuse me, are you talking about me?

Mean Lady: Yes, I'm talking about you and your bratty kids. If you can't teach your kids how to behave in public, then none of you should come out.

Me: My son has autism.

Mean Lady: I don't care if your son has autism. My son was a paraplegic. I have a nephew who has autism and is in community college now. I've seen how autistic kids can be if they have a good mom who raises them properly.

Me: (At this point I'm in utter shock and disbelief that this is actually happening, so I really didn't know what to say) Excuse me, but my son is sick. He has special needs. He doesn't understand. He's AUTISTIC!

Mean Lady: Well then you shouldn't bring him in public.

Me: What am I suppose to do? When am I suppose to do my shopping?

Mean Lady: You do your shopping when he is being watched by a professional.

Me: Oh, and are you going to help me pay for that?

At this point I turn around and start sobbing - like literally sobbing in the Target checkout lane. Ella and Seth both come over and start saying "mommy sad, mommy sad, mommy sad!" She's still yammering on, but I just tuned it all out. I COULD NOT believe what I was hearing. This old woman YELLING at me because my son is AUTISTIC! Not what I needed to hear right now. Way to kick me when I'm down lady. It also kind of hurt my feelings that nobody who saw what was going on stuck up for me. The checkout lady, the guy behind me in line, etc. Everybody just stood there like I wasn't sobbing my eyes out and some old lady wasn't yelling at me telling me I am a bad mother. Anybody who knows me really well, knows that the timing on this situation is just horrible. I've got enough on my plate right now.


I think that now is the appropriate time to post this email that my bff, Julie, sent me a couple weeks ago.

How an Autistic Child Might Think......

> Nobody can see my disability. I look just
> like
> every other kid-attractive, walking, playing, and making
> sounds. They can't see how my
> neurons are scrambled and miswired in my brain. They
> can't see all the misconnections, overfiring, and
> misfires between the
> parts of my left and right brain, my frontal cortex,
> and the various other parts of my inner brain. Nobody
> can see that the neural messages disconnect before they
> reach the parts of my body that are supposed to perform the
> motor tasks. I have autism.
>
>
>
> Nobody can see that
> my body is sick. No one can
> see that my stomach is in knots from my digestive
> system not working. No one can
> see that my body and mind are starving because
> my cells don't make the right
> enzymes to digest food. No one can see that I suffer from
> low blood sugar
> because I can't properly metabolize
> nourishment.
>
>
> No one can see that
> my body is attacking its own
> nerve cells from auto-immune dysfunction. No
> one can see that mercury, lead, and
> arsenic cannot be excreted from my body, so it keeps
> building up in my brain. No
> one understands that my body cannot tolerate normal
> enjoyments for children,
> like bright, vivid colors, and loud noises. I desperately
> want to be a kid and
> enjoy these things, but my body just won't let me.
> Those sensory stimulii are interpreted and misinterpreted by
> my brain as offensive and dangerous assaults. My
> hypersensitivities are constantly making me shrink away from
> activities that other kids revel in and look forward
> to.
>
>
>
> But everyone can see
> how inappropriate my
> behavior can be when I am out in public. Everyone can see
> how immature I can be
> compared to other kids my age. Everyone sees the 2-year old
> tantrums when things
> have become too overwhelming for me. Everyone sees my
> frustration from trying to
> cope when I feel like I have been on a strobe-lit
> rollercoaster for hours.
>
>
> Everyone sees my
> screaming and fighting.
> Everyone just assumes I'm being bad, not that my body
> hurts, my eyes are in pain
> from colors, my ears ring with loud noises not heard by
> others, my skin has goosebumps, my mind is stressed, and I
> am dizzy, tired, and sick.
>
>
> Everyone sees my
> tantrums when I don't get my
> way. No one sees that I can't explain my fear when I
> think I'm not being
> understood. Everyone may see my screams when my mom takes
> something away from
> me. No one can see that having something of comfort can
> keep my fears under
> control for me, and taking it away makes my nerves explodes
> in
> anxiety.
>
>
> No one understands
> how hard I have to work to
> keep my behaviors from reacting to the chemical imbalances
> in my body that makes
> me feel horrible. No one can see that, no matter how hard I
> try, sometimes I
> cannot control it. No one can see the shame I feel after
> I've had a meltdown
> from my body's problems.
>
>
> What they don't
> see is I am a person. I have
> feelings and want to be loved and accepted like everyone
> else. What they don't
> see is that, when they look at me like I need a good
> spanking; I understand that
> I'm not capable of controlling my body. What they don't see is
> that I scream because I
> don't know how to say "HELP ME" What they
> don't see is that I hear every ugly
> word they say, but for the life of me, I can't make my
> mouth say what I'm
> feeling. But they don't see that as a disability.. They
> say I am unmanageable.
> They say I am a problem.
>
>
> But I am not a
> problem. I HAVE AUTISM. My mom
> has taken me to more doctors and specialist than you can
> ever imagine. She's
> read more books and done more research on my disease than
> parents would ever
> want. She has tried special diets, supplements, drugs, and
> various metabolic, metaphysical, and traditional
> therapies. She has PRAYED for GUIDANCE and asked for
> discernment on how to help
> my body. And behaviors, OH YES, has she tried everything to
> help shape my
> behavior to meet accepted norms.
>
>
> Stop telling her all
> I need is a spanking, or for her to do this, or to do
> that.... If
> a simple spanking, or a simple this or that would stop all
> of this, my mom would gladly exchange my disability for a
> spanking, or whatever other simple fix you could offer. She
> knows better than all of you what I need to help me, and
> what we
> both need is your understanding, not
> ignorance.
>
>
> I just want to be
> accepted and understood. Not
> blamed and ashamed, I want to be appreciated for my gifts.
> I do have some if you
> look more closely. I want to be cared for as a person. I
> want you to care, even
> when I act like I don't.
>
>
> I want to be
> respected, just like you do. I want
> you to respect my mom and dad for all the hard work they
> have done to help me
> try to lead a normal a life as possible. I want you to
> respect my family and all
> the struggles we have to endure because of our love for
> each other.
>
>
> I want to be LOVED
> like any other child. And
> need you to role model respectful behavior for me so I can
> be respectful too. I
> want you to love me just like JESUS
> would.

>