Teen Starts Recycling Business; Hopes to Become Self-Sufficient

James RecyclingIt’s no secret that not everyone has the skills that are traditionally necessary to land, and keep, a typical job. Increasingly, we’ve heard stories about parents helping their children start their own businesses, for a variety of reasons. This is one of those stories.

James Harris, an 18 year-old with autism living in the Bridlemile area of Portland, Oregon, has always been interested in recycling. Since he has limited verbal skills and found school very challenging, his mom Kathi came up with the idea of helping James make a career out of recycling. They started a local business called James’ Neighborhood Recycling Service, which recycles things that the township recycling program typically won’t accept.

Each client gets a tall bucket and can put in “anything from batteries to plastic bags and electronics—basically anything that you can’t normally recycle curbside.” With the service, James is helping his neighbors, the environment, and himself. “I wanted him to be self-sufficient [and] I really didn’t see an opportunity for him to do that with the work that’s out there,” said Kathi.

James goes out with his mom every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday morning, and collects the contents of the buckets into big Rubbermaid bins in the back of his mom’s SUV. After collecting the bins, James brings them all into the garage, where he sorts through everything. “I wanted to help the Earth, and help save our planet,” explained James.

The service costs $12 per month and James’ customer base has grown to 50 households since he first started six months ago. That brings in $600/month. His goal is to eventually have 1,000 customers, bringing in enough income for him to become self-sufficient.

Kathi is thrilled: “I’m really proud of him. He’s so proud of himself and that’s the main thing that I see. His pride… his self-esteem—it’s amazing. And he works so hard on it.”

I’m Lost in the Chaos, but Still Me Inside

Angela Chaos1I am a special needs mother, and single too. The single means I have no partner in my duties. I do it all with no breaks. I can’t step aside even if I want to. I can’t walk away and take a breather after a full hour of tantrums. It’s hard, but we are doing great because that is how I am choosing to look at life.

I would love to sit on my couch and sip my coffee and enjoy the quiet time when I get a chance, but it doesn’t work that way with special needs parenting, especially when you are doing it alone with two children with special needs. There are always hills to climb and holes to fill, and they must be done in order to make the next day’s challenges fewer.

Our days are made up of challenges. We never go through a day free of them, and it is very hard to deal with the trials each day. I can’t even put into words what it is like to live the same daily routine over and over. It’s hard, yet rewarding.

With that said, there are days where I have my moments. Don’t we all.

I might not always greet you with a flashy smile.

I may have a hundred other things going on in my head, thinking about how to handle a new situation that just arose in our life with autism. I may not have time to respond to your text, email, or phone call.

I may say something that might be a bit on the snappy side and it may not even come close to making sense to you. Most likely, it will leave you thinking, “What’s wrong with her today?” But please don’t ask that out loud, unless you want a detailed report of what is really wrong and then we can compare our days.

You might catch me getting antsy in the long line at the grocery store. My time is so valuable and, if I am at the store by myself, I want to get my items, get home, and breathe before the boys get home. That’s when the real hurricane starts and it’s all hailstorms from there.

I have to rearrange my days around my usual McDonald’s trips. One of my sons will only eat fresh chicken nuggets from McDonald’s daily, with lots of ketchup. When we don’t get lots of ketchup in our take-home bag, I will march right back and ask you for more. Most of the time I am not very polite because the tantrum has already started over the two ketchup packets for 20 chicken nuggets.

Sometimes you’ll see me in yoga pants every single day of the week, but it doesn’t mean I am doing yoga. I am lucky if we get out the door every morning with everything on. We have left the house numerous times without shoes, and even a time or two in our pajama tops. Yes, believe it or not, I have forgotten to put a bra on because I have been so busy with the morning autism chaos.

I sometimes go to sleep with 30 stuffed animals and 20 baby Einstein DVDs in my bed, but I know better than to move them. I’m sure you know what I mean.

I may get a haircut once a year, my nails and toenails always look ferocious, and I can barely keep track of so many other personal issues. Special needs children seriously changed my life.

My focus each day has gone to OT, ST, IEP, IDEA, and ABA. If you don’t talk to me in acronyms, I may not even understand you anymore.

So, I may not always come off as the friendliest person in the world, but I really am deep down. Somewhere in there, I am the same fun-loving person I was 10 years ago. Life just happens. Moments happen. But I am still me, with just a touch of autism in my life. It tends to take over daily.

A Normal Family: Writer/Comedian Presents Radio Tribute to Son with Autism

Henry Normal PieceHenry Normal is known in the U.K. for writing and producing several comedy series for television, as well as publishing several poetry books over the years. He recently wrote a new book of poetry—his first in 20 years—and performed it live for BBC Radio 4. The show, “A Normal Family,” is an emotionally charged tribute to his teenage son, Johnny, who was diagnosed with autism before the age of 3. In it, Henry intersperses humor along with observations and poems about life with autism. The result is a deeply poignant, personal look at autism that every parent raising a child with autism cannot just relate to, but also laugh along with.

Henry reminisces about the day his son was born: “I remember saying to myself that he was going to have a better life than me. Things that held me back wouldn’t hold him back. I’d see to that.” He had no idea what was coming.

In an all-too-familiar story, Johnny did everything babies were supposed to do, until he didn’t. At first, Henry was in denial: “It felt somehow, betraying Johnny, to think there’s something wrong with him.” He and his wife Ann took Johnny for testing—an experience that Henry describes in the first poem he reads, about what the “mildly severe autism” label would come to mean for them.

The poems are symbolic, meaningful, and thought-provoking, but the show is full of humor. As Henry explains after the first poem: “Some of the poems are serious… and they can get emotional and a little difficult for some of you, so I’ve brought along a toilet roll.”

Henry goes on to point out: “Autism is a classification that doesn’t exist in nature. It’s a man-made distinction. And because people say that Johnny’s condition is mildly severe, that’s their observation. It doesn’t mean that’s how Johnny experiences it.”

He ticks off a list of the different recommended therapies and methods they tried with Johnny, from ABA therapy to “swimming with dolphins.” Then he sums up every parent’s feelings perfectly when he explains, “Let’s face it: Like any parents, we’d have skydived playing the ukulele if we thought it would help.”

Henry’s poetry is accessible, full of observations about the ways in which autism affects both the individual with it, and the people around them. He celebrates the casual lack of boundaries, and the little victories that add up, bit by bit. He finds the humor and allows us to not just laugh with him, but also at ourselves. Because things can be funny. But they’re also important.

Before he closes the show, Henry wants parents of newly diagnosed children to know something that he wishes had been said to him. “There will be change. It may be slow. It may never be exactly what you imagined. But I think it’s important to understand there will be change.”

Pour yourself a cuppa, or a shot of something stronger, and take the half hour to listen to this brilliant show here.

 

His First Time at the Theatre

Child Theatre1My son Ethan has fallen in love with the Gruffalo series. It is safe to say that, at times, our house has been taken over by the Gruffalo and the big bad mouse. From reading the books to watching the DVDs, making our very own Gruffalo teddy bear and pom-pom figures, and even taking a walk through a real-life Gruffalo trail. You name it, we have done it.

When I saw that The Gruffalo’s Child was being shown at our local theatre, I was quick off the mark to make sure we had tickets. If ever a new experience arises that Ethan has never done before, I try to make sure that we put our names down for it.

Activites such as going to the cinema or to the theatre can be a no-go for families who have children with autism or other special needs. There is such a huge level of planning ahead required: running through what will happen, how you’ll get there, etc. Then, by the time you get to the place, your child might be too overwhelmed by the environment to actually stay and enjoy the movie or play.

The day finally arrived for us to go and see Ethan’s first theatre show; it is always interesting to see what Ethan’s reaction will be. We prepared him for two days, telling him what we were going to see, where the show would be held, and who we would see once we were there. It helps Ethan cope a bit better when he knows what will be happening ahead of time.

We got to the theatre and there were a lot of excited children captivated by the thought of what they were about to see. There were also pictures of The Gruffalo Child on sticks; we got Ethan a stick that he immediately fell in love with and held proudly.

Stepping into the theatre, I looked around for our seats, and then realised that the tickets I had ordered were for seats located one row from the front. One part of me was really pleased with the fact that we were up-close and personal with the characters, while the other part of me thought, “How will Ethan deal with the proximity of our chairs to the stage?”

By this point, I had Ethan in my arms–he was unsure about the lighting in the room, the number of people, and the level of noise being given off. When we’re home, depending on where Ethan is in the house, he usually has to have every light on before he can walk around confidently. The sound of people chatting and laughing is something that I can filter out for the most part, but for Ethan it can be unbearable for him as he struggles to process sounds.

After finding our seats, we tried to put Ethan in the middle seat to stop him from wandering off mid-play. However, he refused to leave my lap, clinging onto me for dear life. With his hands over his ears, he sat on my lap, repeating the words, “don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me,” over and over again. He felt safe and comforted in this position.

Sure, other people saw Ethan, his body language, and his size  (he’s very tall for his age), and likely wondered why he was acting this way. I didn’t care–my main thought was whether Ethan would be able to enjoy the story that he had come to love, or whether he would have a complete meltdown before it even began. I hugged him tightly, rubbing his hand to calm him, and told him about the book to familiarise him with what he was about to see. The lights dimmed; everyone fell silent.

Ethan spent the first five minutes with his hands over his face, and no amount of coersion was able to get him to take his hands away. I was just happy that he was still sitting. If it meant he had to watch the whole play through his fingers, so be it.

As the play went on, he slowly but surely let his hands down. He became engrossed in the characters, the storytelling, and the singing and dancing. He wasn’t so keen for me or his daddy to sing along with the story or get him involved. It was very much on his own terms or not at all.

As his mum, I was so happy that he was enjoying this new experience. He adapted so well to the environment, going from being completely overwhelmed to clapping along, laughing his little socks off, and generally interacting with the characters. It was such a heartwarming thing to experience with him: I couldn’t help but smile proudly, with a little happy tear in my eye,  to see him so happy and enjoying something that he relates to in such a huge way.

Ethan seems to adjust really well to new situations, so that will continue to drive me to put him outside of his comfort zone. It will be small baby steps–nothing too extreme–but things that I know he will enjoy and love. I guess skydiving is a few years away yet!!

 

{The original version of this post appeared first on Mummy Logs.}

To the Mom at the Water Park: Your Kids Gave Me Hope

When Stephanie Skaggs took her 5-year-old daughter Baylee to Kentucky Kingdom last Friday, she didn’t plan on talking to another mom there about her kids’ behavior. But before their visit to the water park was done, that’s exactly what she did. And, because Stephanie wasn’t sure she got her point across, she decided to tell the entire story on her Facebook page when she got home.

What awful thing happened that forced one mom to have to talk to another mom about the way her kids had treated her daughter? Well, it’s not what you’d expect.

Baylee has autism, and is mostly non-verbal. Stephanie had been working with Baylee on waiting in line for the water slide as patiently as possible. She had developed a whole routine for her daughter, and her daughter was learning it, and showing more patience, each time they got in the line. Unfortunately, not every child successfully waits their turn, and soon enough, Baylee was getting cut in line. As Stephanie wrote, “for the most part no big deal, except for a kiddo like mine, who really doesn’t mind much that she had to wait longer, but is very upset that the steps of the routine she just learned are now out of whack.”

As parents, grandparents, and teachers know, coping with unexpected changes is not something that comes easily to most kids with autism, and Stephanie braced herself for either Baylee’s reaction or other people’s reaction to Baylee’s reaction. That, Stephanie wrote to the unknown mom, “is when your daughter looked up at me and said ‘she can go ahead of me.’” Baylee hadn’t even had time to get upset, so Stephanie chalked up the girl’s behavior to her just being sweet and well-mannered.

It wasn’t long before Baylee got cut in line again, and again the child in front her—this time a boy—let her go before him. Stephanie again praised a child she didn’t know for his kindness and good manners. She was surprised to find two different children who seemed to intuitively know how to be kind to Baylee. Then she saw them together and figured out they were siblings.

“I told them both how great it was that they looked out for someone who was different.. and the difference that small acts of kindness make even if it doesn’t seem like much. They really touched my heart.”

Then Stephanie asked the boy to point out his mother, so she could praise her for raising two compassionate children:

“When I came to you and told you about my experience with your kids and told you that they were super kids and you are doing a great job, you said ‘I don’t know about that.’”

Most of us are never totally sure that we’re raising our kids as well as we intend to, or that they’ll take our words and turn them into actions. It’s obvious to all of us, except this mom, that she’s doing a fantastic job. We could use more like her.

As Stephanie went on in her Facebook post:

“Sure your children’s kindness helped in that moment to avoid a meltdown, and that is kind of a big deal for kids on the spectrum, but I will tell you what is an even bigger deal though, and that is that it gave me some HOPE! When I looked at those sweet little faces, filled with pride as I praised them, it made me happy to know that more moms are raising their children the way you are! So I just wanted to take the opportunity again to thank you and let you know you are doing a really really good job!”

We heartily agree!

The Moments That Take Our Breath Away

Angela
Parenting a child with autism is exhausting. It leaves parents with much bigger challenges than we ever thought we would have to endure in our parenting years.  It comes with heartache and I can tell you multiple stories on that subject alone. However, it also comes with pure joy. Yes, that’s right, I said joy! Now don’t get me wrong; I have had my days and nights where I have cried countless tears and guess what? Five years on this journey and I am still crying. I don’t cry every day, nor do I cry every week, but the heartache and tears are still there and they are not going away. It’s just part of the journey.

But, there is lots of joy on this rollercoaster ride. The joy that we experience is taken to a level that most parents of typical children know nothing about and that’s because of the heartache we experience before the joy.

As special needs parents, we know the heartache of watching our children live a life full of challenges–challenges that range anywhere from cognitive, physical, social impairment, and sensory processing challenges to speech impairments and much more. Nonetheless, we go throughout our day experiencing those challenges firsthand. We get so accustomed to those challenges that we don’t even realize the heartache we experience because of them, until the moment comes that takes all our sorrow and tears away.

It could be hearing your child say your name for the first time in months. It might be watching your child take his first steps after years of hard work. Honestly, it could even be watching your child enter a store without a meltdown for the first time. Those moments are the moments we live for as special needs parents. Those are the moments that take our breath away and make us appreciate the joys that come along with special needs parenting.

I am all too familiar with how easily the joy can be forgotten when the struggles take over. I know how frustrating it can be when you know your child can do something but his disability just simply won’t let him that day. I know! I understand! I walk that walk with your every single day. Nonetheless, let’s not forget how we feel in that moment when our child makes the tiniest milestone feels like the biggest accomplishment ever!

That heartache that you’ve been experiencing is not fun, to say the least. However, it makes that joyful moment feel that much better! It makes all the hours of therapy… all the sleepless nights… all the tears… all the heartache worth it. It humbles us. It softens our hearts. It makes us a better person.

If I can leave you with anything from this, it is to remember that there are others out there just like you. There are countless other families who cry those same tears every day. They, too, reach that same emotional peak when that small milestone is reached. If anyone understands that feeling, it is you and me. We are special needs parents. We take the good along with the bad and make the most of it. It is, after all, all that we can do.

My Deepest Hurt

Courtnie1My 6-year-old son was diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder when he was 3 years old. At the time of diagnosis, I had him enrolled in a traditional preschool. The preschool was absolutely wonderful and they did everything in their power to accommodate my son.

I started the process of interviewing local kindergartens during my son’s last year of preschool. At the time, my older son was attending kindergarten at a local private school that just happened to be located above my other son’s preschool. Naturally, I felt that it would be best if he attended the same school as his older brother. So I decided that I would reach out to the school’s principal to discuss my son’s needs.

My son has high-functioning autism. He is completely verbal and he excels in reading. At the time of pre-kindergarten enrollment, he struggled with transitions and self-regulation. Meltdowns were avoided by the use of a timer and a visual schedule. In my heart of hearts, I knew that my son would do well in kindergarten. He had already made huge gains through intensive therapy.

Unfortunately, the school principal had little understanding of the autism spectrum. She told me that my child could only attend school as long as his ABA therapist attended with him. In addition, she told me that initially he wouldn’t be allowed to come to school if his ABA therapist couldn’t attend on a particular day. She felt that it would be necessary for him to prove himself. This absolutely devastated me! My feelings were this: “Why does my son need to prove himself? Is it because he has autism?” As an autism mom, this was one of the most devastating experiences of my life.

During the time, I began to do a lot of soul searching. I ended up seeking advice from my mom. She made a point that ended up resonating with me. My mom said, “If you hadn’t told her about his autism diagnosis, she would have never known.”

I began to ponder this statement. At this moment, society is autism aware, but are we truly accepting of people on the spectrum? If I could say one thing to people who don’t have experience with the spectrum, it would be, “Don’t be quick to make assumptions about a child with autism. All children are unique and they deserve to be treated as such.” Not every autistic child is Rain Man and not every autistic child is a savant. Autism spectrum disorder is called a spectrum for a reason.

I ultimately decided to send my son to the local public school. When I made this decision, I also decided to send my older son as well. As a mother, I did not want my little guy having to prove himself on his first day of school. I am pleased to say that my son has done exceptionally well this year. He is in a traditional kindergarten class. He has an extremely supportive team of individuals who have proven that they are dedicated to helping my son succeed.

This isn’t to say that he hasn’t had difficult days, but as his kindergarten teacher has said, “All students have trying days. Your child isn’t any different.” If I had to sum up this year in one sentence, I would say, “My son has rocked his first year of kindergarten!”.

Things To Do in the Summer With Children With Autism

Summer can be long and stressful for any family, but for those who have autistic children the changes in routine, lack of structure, isolation from friends, and sensory issues can make holidays seem even harder. As a parent of two children with autism–one who has significant learning difficulties and is non-verbal–I often struggle with ways to keep the children occupied all day, every day, for nearly two months. My stamina, enthusiasm, and excitement are already beginning to waiver after too many late nights, early mornings, and far too many meltdowns.

However, I sat down tonight and decided it is not too late for things to change. Summer CAN be a great time for my family, and for yours too.

Not all of these will work for your children and many may need tweaking to suit your own family dynamics, but why not try something different? Try to have fun with your children even if they have communication or social difficulties.

Get Outside!
Fresh air is so good for everyone. It gives us a better appetite (something my ASD daughter really struggles with!), makes you feel happier and more relaxed, and doesn’t cost a thing.

My son needs 1-1 support at all times, but even he enjoys a bit of crazy golf or swimming. Lots of children are able to cycle, or if not, perhaps they can use a scooter, a trike, or even a skateboard. However they feel comfortable, get out and about with them together on a bird hunt, a picnic, a walk in the woods, a treasure hunt, or just a trip to the local park.

Neither of my children can hula hoop but we enjoy spinning the hoop, wheeling it to each other, and jumping in and out of it. There are often football teams looking for new members and a quick Google search may even yield a team for children with special needs.

Neither of my children enjoy sports or climbing, but my son still loves the swing and the slide, and we try and walk to these whenever possible, even if we need reins. Drawing with pavement chalk, playing hopscotch, kicking a ball, and picking fruit are all popular with my two (although I have to say my son eats much more fruit than he takes home!)

Miriam2Garden Play!
If going outside your own property is difficult with your child, what about playing in the garden? A cheap paddling pool (how about adding a little food colouring or blowing bubbles into the water to add something different?) or a sand pit can keep some children entertained for hours. Garden picnics can turn the most mundane lunch into something much more exciting for a fussy eater.

Trampolines, slides, summer houses, and large sit-in vehicles may be expensive, but could potentially amuse a sensory-seeking child for many a day all summer. Here is my young daughter having the time of her life watering the grass with a hose recently after a few dry days. Simple and inexpensive!

Go Somewhere!
A quick visit to your local tourist information centre or on sites like Days Out with Kids might surprise you with the local attractions that are suitable for your child. Some may even offer discounts for carers or children with autism or other disabilities, so it’s always worth asking. Some museums are even free! I recently took my kids to an airplane museum where my son’s favourite thing was the hand dryers in the bathrooms! The fact was we still went and on whatever level, he had a nice time.

Swimming, ten-pin bowling, the lifts at the local shopping centre, trips on trains or buses, pottery painting, the cinema (many have autism viewings), and a local sensory room are favourites for my two. Even just a few hours out of the house can really break a day up. To prepare my children I use Google Images and Google Maps, as this always helps ease anxiety about the unknown.

Sensory Play at Home
Miriam3Some days, due to bad weather, tired children, or the everyday struggle to get them away from screens, going out just doesn’t happen. My son misses his school sensory room so much when he’s at home all summer, so I try and find sensory activities to help him regulate.

Playdoh (under strict supervision, as my son eats it!), water play, burying toys in rice or uncooked pasta, painting (even water painting can be fun!), junk modelling (my unique way of recycling when it is wet!) baking, fake snow, shaving foam, bubble pictures, puppets, and making homemade musical instruments can all help my children overcome sensory avoidance or give them the sensory stimuli they seek.

My daughter loves jelly baff (bath good) but my son hates it, so using a basin instead of the bath helps a lot. We have made masks before, which for my daughter with selective mutism was a great way to avoid talking if someone suddenly came to visit. I am sure most families have built a den from blankets too!

Games With Rules
My daughter loves rules and fairness, so boxed games of any sort are a firm favourite. There are lots of adaptions of the traditional snakes and ladders if your child is more motivated by Frozen or Superman, for example. Other favourites are Guess Who, pairs, Hungry Hippo, hide and seek, and many of the Orchard games for children. For older children, Scrabble or solitary games like sudoku or word searches can help them unwind when they need some alone time. The key is to get involved with them while finding the balance between having time together and time apart. Some children with autism will struggle to take turns or wait, but simple quick games like Snap can be ideal to work on these.

Construction Toys
Legos are often a firm favourite of children with autism. While some children will prefer to be left alone to build and play, it is always worth encouraging teamwork and co-operation. Legos may be an ideal activity to have a playdate around or for siblings to work together. My two are still at the wooden blocks, Duplo and Mega Blocks stage but their friends enjoy Meccano, K’nex, stickle bricks, magnets, gears, and even marble runs.

Miriam4 Imagination
One of the biggest myths about autism is that children with autism lack imagination. The type of imagination some children with autism struggle with is “social imagination,” which involves joining in games already established by other children that do not have set rules. Summer is an ideal time to allow your ASD child to take the lead with their own imagination. They could dress up, play with dolls (boys and girls!) reenact in a dollhouse, play cars, or trains or castles, be a superhero or a pirate or what about a fireman?

Many children find reacting programmes or stories the easiest way to play, so why not watch the episode with them and join in? It doesn’t even need to be expensive! How about using an old roll of wallpaper to draw your own train track or road layout? Or put a blue towel on the floor to be the seaside?

I know some of you will have read this with skepticism. I know the battle to get your child off an iPad or computer or even to get dressed. I know all too well the anxiety that can come with try something new for many with autism. Not everything will work and that is OK.

Find a local support group or ask around to see if any places do times that are quiet or even ASD specific. Plan ahead for changing facilities, access, price, and parking, and always pack a camera!

Summer does not need to be a stressful time. Even trying just one new thing a week can create memories and smiles that make everything worthwhile.

Please Don’t Judge Us

On a day not too long ago, Ethan and I were waiting in a queue at our local supermarket to check out. The time came for Ethan to hand over the box of strawberry ice cream cones that had been occupying him while I double-checked the list and unloaded everything onto the conveyor belt. Like many children with autism, Ethan has a tendency to become fixated by certain items and toys, and this box was one of them.

I braced myself for what I knew was coming next. Quietly and patiently, I tried to explain to Ethan that he had to give the box to the cashier, and then he would get it back. At that time we didn’t yet have a diagnosis for Ethan, so we didn’t have all of the tools that we do now to help Ethan understand the situation more clearly. All I could do was take the box from Ethan and give it back to him mid-meltdown.

This situation would usually end up going one of two ways: Ethan would either be too distressed during his meltdown to notice that he had been given back the box, or he would become his usual bouncing and smiling self, reunited with his box once more.

During that time, an older lady had appeared behind us in the queue. I suddenly felt very self-conscious, and mentally prepared myself for what I just knew she’d say. And she did.

“Oh dear,” she laughed. “You’re spoiled, aren’t you? You’ll get it back in the minute.”

I heard the words leave her mouth and enter my ears, and wondered who was she to think that was OK to say them to someone she didn’t know and knew absolutely nothing about. I took a second, and a deep breath, and turned to face her.

“Ethan is autistic. He doesn’t understand certain situations in the same way that other children and adults do. He is the most loving, gentle-hearted and kind child you could wish to meet. He isn’t spoiled; he’s just different. Don’t judge him–you don’t know him or us.”

I turned back to Ethan who, by that point, was happy he had his box back.

For now, Ethan is totally oblivious to the comments or judgements that are made by strangers around him. I feel compelled as his mother and protecter to shield him from strangers’ rude and negative comments, especially on days like the one I’m describing. I will carry on doing so until he is capable of doing it himself.

Do I still get self-conscious? Of course! As a parent, it comes with the territory. But my response has changed, as I’ve learned to let people’s rude comments go over my head.

Don’t get me wrong–some days I have to try really hard not to let someone’s comments bother me or affect how the rest of our day goes. But I know my son, and I know how he thinks. The thoughts of complete strangers are irrelevant to our family. As the age-old saying goes, “If you haven’t got anything nice to say, say nothing at all.”

Think before you speak. No two families are the same, and everyone’s journey is different.

Don’t judge us on our unique journey through life. Instead, we appreciate understanding faces and unlimited smiles. As another saying goes: “It takes 10 muscles to smile, but 100 to frown.”

Thankful for the Kindness of Strangers

Soccer Ball Kid

Two weeks ago, we were on one of our Sunday walks around Cosmeston Lake, heading off of the usual footpath that most people take around the lake. There were two men in their late ’20s/early ’30s kicking a ball back and forth. Ethan saw the football and said, “I want to score a goal.” With that, he bolted for the men, leaving me and my husband, Jamie, in the dust.

We are used to this sort of thing—calling his name and saying “Stop!” only works in certain situations—and this wasn’t one of them. As we’ve discovered, children with autism tend to have no awareness of danger at all. Ethan doesn’t know to look left and right before we cross a road, and he would be the first person to run flat out around a busy supermarket car park, regardless of the fast cars.

Jamie and I ran towards Ethan, picking him up just before he got caught in the crossfire of the game being played. We apologised for Ethan adding himself to the game and headed off on the path once more. As we walked away, a voice caught my attention and I saw a ball heading towards us in the corner of my eye. One of the men had taken it upon himself to kick the ball to Ethan, saying, “Here you go!” Ethan hesitated at first, but with a little encouragement, he kicked the ball back to the two men on the grass.

This activity only lasted for about three minutes, but that was long enough for Ethan. He didn’t necessarily know how to play the game; he just wanted to score a goal. In Ethan’s mind, no words were needed either—he got to kick the ball, but he wasn’t really bothered about communicating with the people around him. We told Ethan that the game was finished; otherwise, he would have spent the rest of the day kicking the ball back and forth with the men. That’s something that neither we nor the men would have wanted to do. Ethan began to wander away, so we thanked the men for including him in their game. They responded, “You’re welcome. No problem at all.”

I don’t think they truly realised what they had done. In their minds, they had just let a little boy play football with them. To me, it was much more. They didn’t hesitate to play with Ethan. They didn’t get too close to him; they simply allowed him to have fun with no questions asked. In turn, Ethan got to do something that he loved to do, usually with daddy, but this time with strangers. He wanted to include himself, and have himself seen and heard.

To the men who made Ethan feel welcome, who asked no questions, and who let him join in with their game, THANK YOU! Ethan walked away happy and so proud of himself for playing football and scoring a goal.

If there were more people around who didn’t judge, who just treated everyone in the same way, the world would be a much nicer place. We, as parents, wouldn’t feel like we are constantly being judged by those who don’t understand what we’re going through as a family. We wouldn’t feel on edge all of the time and we wouldn’t have to have our guard up constantly; feeling compelled to answer to every ‘tut’ or disapproving look that strangers give us in public. So, thank you, for turning a family walk into an even more special outing.