Raising a good autistic human takes a lot of patience … and clear boundaries
A Dammit Doll almost lost its life today when I lost my patience and yelled at my son.
Blame the But Whys.
“Mom, can I get the Nintendo Switch 2 for Christmas?”
“No.”
“But why?”
“We talked about this when the Switch 2 came out, Joseph. I told you that if you wanted it, you had to save your money and pay $200 of the cost yourself.”
“But why? It’s on my Christmas List.”
“Because that’s what we agreed to.”
“But why?“
“It’s expensive. Your dad and I can’t afford it this year.”
“But why? I want the less expensive one.”
“And you still have to save your $200 of your own money pay for part of it yourself.”
“But why?“
“Joseph. Patrick. R—. The III. I am tired of having this conversation. If you want the Switch 2, you have to save $200. That’s it. No further discussion.”
“But why?”
“Leading Man #1,” I begin…again…taking a deep breath and gathering what’s left of my quickly vanishing patience. “We’ve been talking about this since the Switch 2 launched in May. I’ve been very clear what you need to do: save $200. When you go to the ATM and withdraw your spending money each week, take out $10 less. That’s $XX instead of $XX.”
“But why?”
My patience breaks. “Because you’re 24, almost 25, and if you want things, you have to pay for them! Your dad and I didn’t ask Grandma R– and Grandma Miller for money when we were your age! We saved our own money and paid for them ourselves!
Asking me to pay the full cost of something you have to save for over and over again is NOT cool, J–. I love you nearly and dearly. You are the best and most important part of my life, but NOT cool!
Also, you know better! You know I won’t change the rules no matter how many times you ask me! You also know how to budget and save money!”
Yes, I’m a tough parent.
“But why?”
I reach for the Dammit Doll I haven’t needed in 6 months. There’s another one in my car for Connecticut traffic. I’m impressed that one still has its stuffing. ” JR, I love you, but I’m not having this discussion again. I’m hanging up the phone. I’ll call you back when I calm down.”
Before I get hit with another evil But Why, which might completely break my sanity, I hang up the phone.
It doesn’t help that, just before asking about the Switch 2, Kiddo told me he’d just spent the last of his spending money on pizza and video games.
I sit at my desk, the Dammit Doll in hand, clearly afraid it’s about to meet the same fate as its Subaru-residing sister. I set it down, rest my elbows on my desk, put my face in my hands, and groan.
“AAARRRGGGGHHHH!”
…and my phone rings. My “just-like-me-and-his-father-when-we-were-married” – think when thunder and the ocean collide, (Saves the Day, Rocks Juice Tonic) – son, calling to take up the fight again.
I feel horribly guilty, but I don’t answer the phone. I’m angry. I need a minute to calm down.
The Dammit Doll continues to look on in fear.
My husband comes upstairs. What was all the yelling about?
My son was badgering me about the Switch 2 again.
Didn’t already talk to him about that? Like, 1,000 times?
Yes. He’s being a belligerent pain in the arse.
Yes, autistic, intellectually or otherwise disabled people like my son can be belligerent, rude, and disrespectful. They throw temper tantrums – very different from meltdowns – when they don’t get their way. Autistic kids occasionally, knowingly, break rules.
I love my son. That means loving what’s good and bad about him, and accepting who he is, which, occasionally, is a real pain in my patoot.
I’m not talking about behaviors, tics, and quirks beyond an autistic person’s control. Meltdowns, social awkwardness, stimming, walking with your head down, lack of or mumbled speech, etc. are all acceptable.
Refusing to do something your mom has told you – repeatedly – you have to do and insisting she do it instead? NOT acceptable.
Autistic kids know their parents. Certainly, JR knows me. He knows exactly which buttons to push, and – typically. Today was REALLY an exception – WHEN to push them. Zoe and Sarai point out in the Guts podcast “Autism, Neurodiversity, and Belonging,” that autistic life is a resource hog. Autism takes a lot of time and mental energy. A lot of that energy goes into the careful observation and fine-tuning to the emotional air around us needed to survive in neurotypical society.
Both TheEx and TheCurrent (husband) know what will annoy, irritate, and generally set off my temper and how to do so. In the early days after our divorce, TheEx excelled at it. My son’s knowledge and ability in this regard trumps both husbands, combined.
I’m pretty amazed by that. I’ve been a non-custodial and/or long-distance parent for 20 years. I’m also constantly mistaking typical kid stuff for spectrum behaviors. It’s pretty easy to do, even if you’re a live-and-in-person (custodial) parent. I think it’s because I’ve seen JR excluded from, or unable to do, so many things. I’m so afraid of adding to that list, I overcompensate for what I think he’s missing out on. I dismiss rule-breaking. I chalk persistence and belligerence up to the autistic spectrum. That makes it okay, aka, un-punishable.
I used to tell myself I’d be a cruel – not compassionate, dedicated – parent if I disciplined JR.
Then I’d remind myself of the ultimate goal: raise a good human. Raising a good human, regardless of how they are neurologically wired, means establishing and enforcing boundaries and rules. Actually, rules and boundaries are more important for autistic kids than for their neurotypical counterparts. Rules provide structure, and routine, and a clear equation for what to do in social and other situations my autistic son – and my autistic self – find challenging:
If X happens, then do Y.
If X doesn’t happen, do Z.
If A says B, then you say C.
If A says C, then respond with D.
Slight oversimplification, but you get the idea.
I keep the rules simple:
Eat the lunch the group home staff packs for you. No throwing it out and buying lunch at the college cafeteria.
I set basic boundaries:
No calling me before 7:00 a.m. unless it’s an emergency.
I ask JR to set goals for himself – I set them for him when he was younger – and give him specific, step-by-step instructions for reaching them:
Save $200, or put $10 a week from your spending money into your savings account, and I’ll buy you the Switch 2.
I also establish consequences:
If you don’t save $200, I won’t buy you the Switch 2.
If you call me before 7:00 a.m. and it’s not an emergency, I won’t have time to talk to you.
You think a lifetime of this would vanquish the But Whys. You’d imagine after all these years of (mostly) disciplinary consistency, the evil But Whys would be extinct.
Nope. Those nasty things are alive and well. Based on that last conversation, they appear to be thriving.
JR calls again. The Dammit Doll’s yarn hair stands up on end. I sigh, take a deep breath, and prepare for the worst. I promise myself I’ll be patient this time.
Have you calmed down? My son asks in a solicitous voice.
Look, kiddo, I’m sorry I snapped at you. I should not have lost my temper. But these are the rules…
Says the woman who constantly crosses all the lines and breaks all the rules… (Brandi Carlile, The Story).
Apple. Tree.
The Dammit Doll survived…this time.
Cheers,
–C.
(Image generated by ChatGPT)