On this cold chilly day here in Pennsylvania, I was reminded of the times that Austin would get bored and want me to take him outside. Definitely the LAST thing that I wanted to do on a day like today. He would go to the closet, put on his sneakers, hand me his jacket (which he was capable of putting on by himself lol), and stand by the door, waiting for me take him somewhere.
Going out was the absolute last thing that I wanted to do, but knowing that the more I resisted, the more Austin’s behaviors would escalate, I grudgingly threw my shoes and jacket on, and out the door we went!
Fall and winter were always rough to get through–it was too cold for the playgrounds, and you guys know from my other posts that Austin was a hot mess in stores. He got bored walking around Fall and Winter Festivals, although I did try taking him to those for awhile, but after ten minutes, he was making tracks to the car. Sometimes Chocolate World would satisfy him, but there were times that he would be nixey there too (one time in particular he refused to get off of the ride, then he sat down on the exit steps and refused to get up!)…
And so our Saturday trips to McDonald’s were born! During the week, Austin’s Therapeutic Staff Support (TSS) person (and good friend), Mike, would assist Austin at the YMCA/VA pool, Chocolate World, and malls (Mike was brave), but on Saturdays, Austin and I were on our own–so off to McDonald’s we’d go!
I would go through the drive-thru first to get our food, since I wasn’t brave enough to wait with Austin in line. After getting our food, I would then look for a parking space that was close to the door, but surrounded by empty spaces–Austin loved to tap other people’s cars (especially antennas), so I tried not to park next to another car (at least on the side of our car that he was exiting). Austin would have his tablet, and I’d log onto the McDonald’s WiFi so he could play his Youtube videos, and at the same time, play games on my phone. So after linking arms with Austin–and juggling all of his devices, our drinks, and our bag of food–we made our way into McDonald’s.
On the way to the door, Austin would try to tap everything nearby–poles, signs, other cars…most of the time, I would be bear-hugging him to the door, but I learned that french fries could be a great motivator–if I took out a french fry and told him to “Walk nicely” he would shove his devices at me and walk with his hands in his pockets. Once we made it to the door, he’d get the french fry. Then I would take out another fry and say “Walk to the table” and he would lead the way to a table of his choosing. Now along the way, he would usually try to tap other tables, the garbage can, swing the hanging light fixtures, etc, but if he listened to my “No tapping” warning, I would give him the second french fry. If he didn’t listen and he tapped everything in sight, I would give him his burgers first, then he’d get his fries afterwards. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t, but I tried!
Why was it so difficult for Austin to control his tapping? Autistic thirteen year old Naoki Higashida explains (please see below this post for article link): “It’s like our brains keep sending out the same order, time and time again. Then, while we’re repeating the action, we get to feel really good and incredibly comforted. I feel a deep envy of people who can know what their own minds are saying, and who have the power to act accordingly. My brain is always sending me off on little missions, whether or not I want to do them. And if I don’t obey, then I have to fight a feeling of horror. For people with autism, living itself is a battle.”
Once we conquered (or failed) the “no tapping” mission from the door to our table, we would settle in to eat. Austin would pick a table that had the window overlooking the traffic (he loved to watch the cars drive by), and the McDonald’s Sisters would totter over and say “hi,” giving Austin high-fives (his favorite way of greeting people). I’d chat with them for a few minutes, and then they’d go back to their table, me prompting Austin to wave goodbye to them. Austin would have a huge smile on his face when the sisters came over–you could tell that he really enjoyed the attention 🙂
We never knew what would happen at McDonald’s…one time an elderly man came over, said “Hey buddy!” to Austin, rubbed his head, and told me “God bless you, Mom.” We did not know this kind man from Adam, but he somehow felt compelled to greet us. As I’ve mention in other posts, a woman once stopped right by our table, and exclaimed “Is this Austin Reich??!” I said, “Yesss…???…” and she seemed so excited to see him, explaining that her son went to Vista and she recognized Austin from there. We chatted awhile before she walked away to join her daughter at their table. On another Saturday afternoon, we were sitting at our table and a nearby teenage girl kept looking at us. I smiled at her, she smiled back, and we went on eating our meals. When she finished hers, she stopped by our table on the way to the garbage can, and said, “Your son looks just like Justin Beiber!” Austin smiled and did his “yes” sign, making his sounds, and I laughed so hard I almost choked on a french fry! I managed to say, “Thanks!” and then SHE fluffed his hair (people liked his hair for some reason lol) and went merrily out the door.
Another time, I noticed a man staring at us a few tables away. I smiled briefly and turned back to my meal. A few seconds later, he turned up at my elbow, saying, “Excuse me, I don’t mean to be rude, but is your son autistic? My nephew has just been diagnosed with autism.” We then had a very lengthy conversation about when Austin was diagnosed, how I obtained services for him, and the Vista School.
A few times, we had people stop by our table and just say “God bless you” and continue on their way. This always surprised me–I mean, here Austin and I were, just sitting there minding our own business, not looking for or wanting attention, and people just felt compelled to stop at our table and chat with us. It always warmed my heart, and made me feel so thankful to God that we were treated with such kindness. I never minded talking to people about Austin–I knew that we drew attention because of his severe need to tap things (and my struggle to keep him from getting out of control with it), so of course we always unintentionally made quite the scene, but to have people approach us and express kind words, and who were just curious about autism, never failed to surprise me and touch my heart.
Of course there were those people who gave us weird looks, maybe seemed annoyed, and gave us the side-eye, but I always ignored them and just tuned them out completely. There are always going to be people who love to judge others, who feel superior, or who like to sit on their high-horses. In time, I learned to not let them bother me, and really, I do not remember encountering too many of those–my “he’s autistic” announcement usually nipped that right in the bud immediately.
Novelist David Mitchell writes this about having a child with autism (please see below this post for article link): “[This] analogy comes via a Jewish friend’s rabbi, and compares expectations of parenthood to planning a long sojourn in Italy. Prior to your holiday, you read up about Italy, speak with experts on Italy, plan your route, gen up on Italian and anticipate the pleasures of your time there. Having a life-redefining diagnosis – like autism, asperger’s, down’s, whatever – is like getting off the plane and finding yourself not in balmy, romantic Rome but… Schipol Airport, in Holland. What the hell? My wife and I booked our holiday in Italy, like everyone else. But as time passes and the penny drops that hankering for Italy is stopping you from seeing Holland. Your attitude shifts. You begin to discover that Holland possesses its own singular beauty, its own life-enriching experiences.”
Before Austin was diagnosed, I might have planned my “trip” to “Italy”, but I realized that “Holland” was just as beautiful and enjoyable. I think back to all of those pleasant interactions with people at McDonald’s that would have surely never happened had Austin been “typical.” The shared amusement between Austin and I, and seeing the happiness on his face when people came over to interact with us, might have never happened had he not been autistic. It’s finding the “beauty in the ashes” (to quote Joyce Meyer) that made me realize that as old hopes and dreams die, they can be replaced with new hopes and new dreams that, although different, can also bring a joy beyond description. I had alot of joy with Austin, and driving past McDonald’s…remembering our times there together..makes me smile.
Take care everyone and Happy Thursday!
_________________________________________________________________
*Link to articles from David Mitchell and Naoki Higashida: