So here we are at the end of another Autism Awareness/Acceptance Month. This year, I discovered this really interesting site. It’s a “flash blog” called Autism Positivity. I’m guessing that a flash blog is something like a flash mob. It appears out of nowhere, does something really cool, and then disappears. The goal of this flash blog is to present 1,000 pieces from people touched by ASD—pieces that celebrate the positive side of the ASD constellation.
So what’s “ausome” about being an ASD dad? Simply put: my family.
• First, there’s my oldest, a thirteen-year-old boy with PDD-NOS. Socially, he’s catching up with his peers. He’s beginning to find his “tribe” in the heartless scrum that is middle school. He has a quick wit and a nimble mind. He also has a rich vocabulary. So what if he sometimes can’t distinguish between the literal and figurative speech some of his friends use? It’s helping him learn the ways of that alien species, the neurotypical adolescent.
• Then there’s my twelve-year-old daughter. She is as aspie as they come, and she knows it. And she owns it. And she uses it to her advantage as often as we’ll let her. She can retreat into her own rich, private world for hours but still come out of herself when she sees the need. She clearly marches to her own drummer, but she is beginning to show that she “gets” where her brothers and sister are at. Plus, she has my mother’s smile. What’s not to love?
• Then comes my nine-year-old son, whose Aspergers reminds you of Mozart or Albert Einstein. Intellectually, he’s got enough wattage to light up the Manhattan skyline. He can’t stand to wear denim jeans (“They hurt!”), and he is never happier than when he’s on the computer building new worlds in Minecraft. A passionate soul, he has an exaggerated sense of justice, taking deep offense at every joke or slight. But that same passion can fuel him for hours as he builds complex Lego structures without a blueprint or develops a new outside game for his younger siblings to play.
• Next up, my seven-year-old son, who has high-functioning autism. He has the brightest smile in the universe and the sweetest disposition—when he’s not melting down. And when he does melt down, he recovers with amazing speed and is very quick with a repentant hug and heartfelt words of contrition. He doesn’t quite know how to make friends on the playground yet, but it doesn’t bother him. He’s content just to swing on his own, staring into space dreaming his dreams.
• Then there’s my five-year-old little girl, who has ADHD and may well be aspie. She’s an impish little spitfire of a thing. Some might call her restless or easily distracted. I call her Little Pip because she’s always hopping around. A daddy’s girl from the day she was born, she loves nothing more than a warm cuddle or a kiss on the cheek. What does she dislike? Clothing tags. Hates them with a passion. Now if only I could get her to look me in the eye!
• Then there’s the youngest, a four-year-old boy with PDD-NOS. He too is perpetually on the move—except when he decides to “plank.” He is extremely passionate about Angry Birds—so much so that he will play the game with any projectile he can find. Including his dinner. Which, of course, cannot be eaten sitting down. He is very good at mind-blindedly annoying his siblings. Or his mom. Or his dad. But he often gets a pass, because he does it with such a broad grin that we tend to melt.
• Finally, there’s my wife. (No, I’m not going to tell you her age.) She’s not on the spectrum, so she’s not officially “ausome.” But it doesn’t matter, considering how awesome she is. Day in and day out, she lays down her life for her kids and never complains about the work. No regrets. No recrimination. No remorse. Just a lot of love and a dogged determination to help our kids become the best version of themselves possible. A psychologist friend once told me that raising one special-needs kid is about as demanding as raising three neurotypical kids. So there’s Katie, raising the equivalent of 18 children, and doing it with nothing but grace, wisdom, wit, and energy.
So that’s what’s ausome about ASD. It’s funny, but because we live and breathe this stuff every day, we can’t always tell when our kids are being aspie or being just plain kids. We simply don’t know what neurotypical looks like!
But that’s probably the biggest blessing of all. The labels don’t matter. What matters is the love. What matters is enjoying our kids for the wonderful constellation of gifts and challenges each of them has. What matters is knowing what every dad should know: that to touch your child is to touch heaven itself.