I perched on a cold plastic chair, waiting my turn for a haircut, when he sauntered through the door, tall and confident.
Ex-military was my first guess. Who else shows up to a hair salon with quarter-inch hair?
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his broad chest. No question in my mind…definitely military. Eyes riveted, I nudged Hubby.
“Can I get one like that?”
He nodded. “Sure, why not?”
He’s so accommodating.
Then I asked the guy where he got his t-shirt, sporting a NATO/Military alphabet message.
And dissolved into giggles.
After I regained my composure, Hubby and I began deciphering the cipher.
- Whoa, That’s Fascinating
- We’re Totally Fabulous
- Why Tell Fibs?
- What Terrific Fannies
And yes, I know the phrase really means something less than appropriate, so I’ll probably never wear it…but it still just tickles me every time I see it.
Well, THAT’S Fantastic.
(With just a hint of sarcasm.)
Yesterday, as I helped our son with his homework, I pointed out a needed correction. He burst into tears. Unsure of the source (since the mistake was incredibly minor), I began to wrap my arms around him.
He pushed my arms away. Not harsh, but definitely firm.
“I just want to be aloooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooone,” he wailed, exploding out of his seat at the kitchen table.
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot???
His moodiness is an on-again, off-again occurrence in the afternoons. He takes medication to help him focus at school, and to this point I’ve always assumed it stems from the meds wearing off. But before, I’ve always seen an obvious trigger (usually after a rough school day).
This was my first epiphany that the reaction might not be related to his dose.
(For more about the use of medication, read here.)
“Okay…I won’t hug you. How about you just lean against me until you calm down?”
Arms folded, he propped his back against my side.
Once his breathing returned to normal, I said, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m just TIRED of all the crammed-up PEOPLE at school! People EVERYWHERE! Everybody smashed together.” He pressed his palms together as though squishing play-doh. “Too. MANY. PEOPLE.”
His breathing hitched and started getting out of control again. I put my hand on his shoulder, light in case he wasn’t ready. He didn’t brush it away.
“I’m sorry you’re feeling overwhelmed. Here’s the good news: you had a day full of crammed-up people, and STILL you got NINE green marks from your teacher. How great is that? It means you worked really hard not to freak out at school. Super job!”
He didn’t respond, but picked up a piece of notebook paper and a pencil and pulled out a chair opposite me.
“I know being around a lot of people and noise can be tough, but I have to tell you: especially in the last few weeks, Daddy and I can tell you are working very hard to deal with it. We are so proud of you.”
I waited a few moments, then looked over at the paper. He was rewriting the problem, this time sans mistake.
Once finished, he looked up at me with no more apparent angst.
“Thanks for always helping me. You’re a really good mom.”
If you’ve been part of the Hypervigilant community for a while, you may already know about his recent Autism Spectrum Disorder diagnosis. (If not, there’s the link.)
ASD explains a lot (Asperger’s, now considered part of the ASD spectrum instead of a separate diagnosis, is where our guy lands).
While we’re not letting the diagnosis be an excuse for behaviors that are outstandingly inappropriate (in fact, we haven’t told him), it supports our earlier suspicions that sometimes, “there are just
Too Many People”
and his sensory intake ability is overloaded.
We need to be sensitive and willing to accommodate.
Consider yesterday’s situation.
Assuming belligerence (which is how it appears sometimes), his pushing me away seems angry and rude. If I react with a consequence for being rude, he feels misunderstood, which escalates his reaction.
Understanding Autism, we realize that sometimes he’s overwhelmed and needs a minute. Allowing him to control the interaction and physical connection, while not letting him escape to his room, gives him the opportunity to grow socially.
If he seemed out of control emotionally, I probably would have given him the option of a cool-down in his dark, quiet room (door open), with a definite re-connection afterwards. We’ve done that before.
But he won’t always be able to flee overwhelming situations, and the best place for him to learn to self-regulate without running away is at home.
He’s a fantastic kid. Smart, artistic and musical. Really amazing. (And if you have any questions about World War II aircraft or ships, he’s got you covered.)
So I’m rethinking this whole WTF thing.
Fantastic + Autistic = FantIstic.
Wow, That’s FantIstic.
Maybe I’ll get that t-shirt, after all.