Seen, not heard

So, because of a conversation with a friend who is trying to find a church where she can take her kids & focus on the church, not parenting her kids constantly, I was thinking of the old phrase "children should be seen and not heard."

Honestly? What a load of crap. This phrase has got to be a holdout from the days when middle to upper class folks all had nannys or servants who took their noisy kids away, and they saw them only on special ocassions, dressed pretty and told to be good. When people had a relationship with their nanny and/or maid and/or whatever you called it that was like what people should have with their mom and dad.

We took Sean & Maia to church this Christmas eve. We haven't really been to church since they were babies because the last time we tried, Sean was completely wigged out by the giant pipe organ. Too loud, too many people, too much. So we had skipped that Easter service (about two years ago now) and gone to the Riverwalk instead.

So on Christmas eve, we tried. Sean got a laugh when he "hooray"ed the bell choir and thought that was awesome, so kept making the "hooray" noise, even when it was time to not. Dad had to take him away. They had a good time driving around looking at Christmas lights and chilling while Maia and I stayed at church.

You know me-- I have about three minutes of tolerance for people staring at my son when he makes noises. He cannot help it, and I see every little glance, every frowny face, every whisper of "if he were my kid I'd whip him." You can glance at me once or twice, and then, if he's still making noise, yeah, it's STILL US. Thanks a lot for playing. And then I lose all concentration on whatever it is I'm supposed to be enjoying and focus only on every noise we are making, every wiggle, etc. I honestly am trying, usually, to keep him calm & quiet. But people don't notice that, they simply notice that their movie is not in perfect silence. I honestly wonder, sometimes, what it sounds like in their houses. It must be really, really quiet for our little noises to bother them so freakin' much.

And it really pisses me off that it's usually old ladies giving me the evil eye the most. Seriously woman? You're trying to imply that your kids (if you had them) were always perfect angels, who never made any noise, and we are just so rude to impose upon your perfectly orderly life for thirty seconds. What a load of crap. If one happens to have a naturally chill, naturally quiet kiddo who likes to be still and quiet, then consider yourself the exception. Usually, they want to do something FUN. And sitting quietly in some uncomfortable place, listening to some guy rant about something that doesn't make sense to us is NOT fun. (Why is it, actually, that we adults think it's fun? Maybe we've all been brainwashed....)

We have kids in this world for a lot of reasons. But mostly, we want to express our love for each other, to see a reflection of our spouses, our families, our love of humanity. And people, I hate to break it to you, but KIDS ARE NOISY. They don't know "the rules" and they sometimes can not hold still for five minutes. It doesn't mean they deserve to be hit, or punished. It means that you, the adult who is supposed to be intelligent and educated, need to chill the furgh out and remember that you were a kid too, and you probably wiggled. You probably made noise. You probably laughed too loud and cried when you were sad. You probably got bored easily. You might have danced when you were happy about a special food or a special something.

We should, as a general rule, not expect kids to act like grown ups. We grow up too fast as it is. Enjoying life should be what we do.

No one should be "seen and not heard." Using our voice and expressing our likes and dislikes should be what we all do. Yes, polite society should learn that there is a time and place for quiet. Yes, we need to teach our kids to behave in public situations. But we should also cut parents (and each other) some freakin' slack when it doesn't work. We've all been there. I know when the doctor's "appointment" is thirty minutes + past what it was supposed to be I want to scream and yell and roll around on the floor, too.

Anyway. This isn't about me-- nothing in particular happened to inspire this rant, but I challenge us all to be heard, sometimes. Not just seen. Having a voice, having a will of our own, is an important lesson. And I'd rather have kids running amok in my house, turning it totally upside down, every single day of the week. And if I forget that lesson as my children grow older and quieter, I hope someone smacks me.

Autism Moment # 54,738

It happened again.  And I'm kind of venting, kind of mad, and usually, I don't complain about this but today I've just had it!  I have a sick stomach after I really meant to have a nice, fun lunch with my kids, who deserve to do fun things, too.  We hide in our backyard almost every day. 

For years and years, we did not go out to restaurants.  Sean's behavior would be so unruly, with him making his "stimming" sounds and needing to jump up and wiggle and sometimes his joy at hearing his voice echo so he will repeat a sound over and over again rather loudly, that we just stayed home. 

But in the last year or so, he's gotten to where we can venture out to restaurants that are "family friendly."  We do NOT go to quiet, intimate dining places with hushed whispers & creamy white tablecloths and wine lists longer than an old style yellow pages phone book.  But we do go to places like Olive Garden (which he loves) and burger joints.  And often, I plan our trip there to be just a little past peak lunch time, so it's not crowded. It's just that it is NOT predictable when a day will happen that he is NOT quiet, like he can be. 

Today, though.  We stopped at an old favorite for summer school time that is on our route back & forth the school where Sean is in summer school, kind of across town.  Herby K's is a one of those "character" places with awesome food but not so fancy atmosphere-- sort of like you've gone over to your friend's house and are sitting on their patio (in fact, the part where we like to sit is quite literally the patio of an old house that has been "plastic-ed" in and has AC and plants everywhere and a very long communal picnic bench where everyone sits next to each other, regardless of whether you knew them a minute ago.) 

I haven't been there in a while, but I LOVE their gumbo.  Sean loves that they have sodas in the old fashioned small green glass bottles.  (Maia also loves the gumbo, and the kids' menu which she can color).  We stopped in, got a seat "above" the crowd-- sort of the balcony benches, so, sort of apart from everyone.  I was semi relaxed because the place is noisy, and no one usually gives us a second look.  And usually, because Sean loves it so much, he's kind of on his best behavior.

But this group of people who got there a few minutes before us, a group of maybe 8, caused the "happened again" moment that makes my stomach clench and me to no longer enjoy my lunch out with my good kiddos. 

Listen:  this group was not quiet themselves-- telling loud jokes and letting their very young kiddo play with a fork, then laughing at her when she stabbed herself in the face (?!) and--seriously-- not taking said fork away from the child until she did. it. again.  So it's not like they really had any room to throw stones from their glass house.  I wouldn't have even cared to notice except that the fork stabbing behavior happened after the below mentioned issue, so I was very hyper aware of them.  (Andrew tells me I shouldn't let it bug me but it Just Does.)

But Sean was happy, and stimming a little bit.  This means he was happily jumping up and down to look at the restaurant from our "porch" high perch rather than sitting still on the bench.  And he was eating sugar packets (yes, he spilled one down on the ground before I realized what he was doing, since I was setting up Maia with a game to keep her occupied.)  The only person who really should have cared about that was the waitress, who knows us as regulars, and to whom I apologized & tipped well.

The sugar dropping is when the "turning around to stare at us" started.  The mom (maybe in her mid to late forties) of this group of several young women literally turned fully around FOUR times.  Without, mind you, meeting my glance but just to look in our direction (which was not exactly a normal place for her to have been looking, given that it was only us, and we were up and in a corner away from her.) 

And it's not like he was being THAT unusually loud.  They also nudged each other pointedly a couple of times when he was making noise, and said something in each other's ears.  If he's really being wild, I leave, even if it's a noisy place.  But seriously-- we have a right to be there too.  

I had to restrain myself (and the inner b*tch that comes from my loud, sometimes obnoxious upbringing) from saying "He has autism-- what's YOUR problem?"  or "rudely stare at special needs kids much?"

I mean, seriously.  One look at us would be all you really need to establish that yes, he is behaving a little more wiggly, a little louder, than your average kid.  And I am (apparently) letting him.   (Although sometimes I think that I am even more annoying to those around me with  my attempts to correct him with "Sean sit, Sean behave, Sean don't be so loud").

Because it's impossible to stop him.  Imagine talking your cat into doing a few of the "normal" tricks your dog might be perfectly happy to perform and you've got the difference between an autistic and a "normal" kid. 

Get your cat to fetch, or maybe roll over a few times on command.  That is how it is to talk Sean into sitting still, and not stimming a little bit.  You don't have to turn around repeatedly to ascertain that yes, it's still us, the only other group in the restaurant with you, making all that noise.  (And let me repeat-- they were very loud themselves!) 

This is one glimpse into our world, folks.  It's something that families with autistic kids go through all the time, and I do understand the "neurotypical" person's reaction.  We are a bit odd.  Yeah.  Granted.  But didn't your mama teach you NOT TO FREAKIN' STARE?!

That many times and you're attempting to shame me for my child's "bad" behavior.  You're giving me that look because you think I should "do something" about his noise, his quirky wiggling, his looking at you for more than a second.  His yelps and odd noises. 

All I ask of folks is this:  anytime you see a parent (whether they are neurotypical or not) with a kid that is being "unruly" in your judgement, bite your tongue.  Don't stare.  If you really are curious, ask.  Some parents would get mad, but some are willing to explain.  I get so tired of telling people "he's autistic; he's not trying to be bad".  I think if it were a more physically obvious disability, adult people wouldn't make such a big deal about it. 

Look somewhere else.  You don't have to ignore us (eye contact is just fine, just like with any other human being you encounter in a friendly situation.)

The person you are staring at might be the "clueless jerk" you think they are who is oblivious to their child's behavior or it's quite possibly YOU who is being a little clueless and ruining someone else's lunch, or judging them without enough information.  I know that since I have had an autistic kid, when I see a mom or dad who has a squirmy, yelling kid (of any sort), nowadays, I just leave them alone.  I mind my own business.  Because I don't know WHAT it might be, and I also know that she/he might be just ignoring something they could fix or they might be picking their battles and worrying about the stuff you can fix over the unchangeable nature of their child's life. 

You have no idea how nice it is when Sean is acting a little wild and no one stares at us, and people just go about their own lives and I don't feel like I have to apologize for my family's existence. 

Okay.  Rant over.  Sorry for being so crabby about it but since I didn't want to make a scene in the restaurant, I am writing to the universe in the hopes that this message gets through to at least one person who might think about acting like this woman did today.  Just. 

Don't.

Irish Thoughts

So today is St. Patrick's day. I'm a large percentage of Irish by blood and temperment. I've been meaning to write this post for days, actually.

I have this neighbor who decorates the crap out of his/her yard for every holiday. This means hanging stuff from trees, putting up those plywood cutouts, etc. It's way overdone, like something in the Griswald's Christmas Vacation.

For St. Patrick's day, they don't go as wild as for other holidays (heck, it's just one day!) but they do decorate. Right now, there are about ten red-headed, green wearing Irish Leprechan type little effigies hanging from trees in their yard. They wiggle and twist in the wind as you're sitting at the light.

Somehow, the act that seems innocuous when it's little ghost figures at Halloween does not seem so innocent when it looks like "me people." I'm a redhead (although it's darker as I am older) and so are my kids. So it looks considerably like a lot of Irish folks who have been hanged. And rather menacing.

I mean, consider the issue with a different race substituted. If one had a bunch of African Americans hanging from trees in honor of, say, Juneteenth. I know-- it's hard to even leave the statement there because I know it'll make you cringe. But it's not even thought about for me, and probably, if I had a lot of commenters on here, someone would say I was being too sensitive. It's not the same.

Well, I do admit that it isn't exactly the same but it's close. You gotta know how badly the Irish were treated in this and other English-based countries. And yet, these racist stereotypes are just fine. Yes, I make the same stupid jokes "Why did God create whisky-- to keep the Irish from ruling the world" but it still begs the question of whether anyone has ever thought that hanging little people from trees as a "decoration" celebrating St. Patrick's day is inappropriate.

Several years ago, as part of my "Cultural practices" paper assignment, a student wrote about St. Patrick's Day. She described how it was a holiday where people went to parades, ate funnel cake & drank green beer. No mention of who the heck this St. Patrick felow is, and what he supposedly did. No mention of it being about Irish pride. Nah. It's FUNNEL CAKE!!! AND BEER! And Irish folks hanging from trees! Yeeeeee haaaawwwwwww.

Hmm. This post was meant to be kind of funny but apparently that's not happening. I don't object to St. Pat's celebrations. I love the idea that my heritage is being acknowledged-- another neighbor had Irish flags up, the way people drape their balconies w/ American swag flags on the 4th of July. THAT was cool. It didn't make me feel vaguely threatened. It made me feel proud. It was something that I can imagine explaining to my kids someday-- what the colors on the flag mean, and why a shamrock. THAT'S the point of the celebration. Heritage, and pride in where we came from and how far we've come.

So have some green beer (yuck) if you must, but at least know who the Hell St. Patrick is, and what the day is celebrating. And realize that the fact that you may not know about how badly Irish folks were treated in this and other countries, and the ethnic strife that still happens, means that we have come a long way, baby.

Just don't hang us from trees! And if you vomit green beer later today, remember: it's not supposed to be green. Try the good stuff.