In your eye

Last week a little kid on the playground punched M. in the eye because M. wasn't moving fast enough in this little game they were playing (game=opening and shutting a gate). He has trouble with things like doorknobs and latches. I kept my cool while scolding this kid (whose mom was nowhere in sight), though I was furious. Eventually I did find the mom and she apologized and made her kid apologize. The whole situation was disturbing to me, not only b/c 2.5 seems awfully young for one's first punch (not a hit, not a shove, but a closed-fist, expertly placed punch in the eye). But more b/c he got punched because he wasn't doing something the other kid wanted, and he wasn't doing it b/c he's autistic and it's hard for him to do it. And that made me fear that this is what it will be like for him growing up. Teased, taunted and bulled for not being able to do things he really wants to do. I already see how frustrated he gets by just not being able to do stuff.How much worse will it be when teasing is added on top of it? Some kids are real assholes.

My reluctant purpose

There are bright spots in all of this, and one of them is the willingness of people who are practically strangers to help you. I just spoke for an hour with a mom of twin autistic boys who gave me a ton of advice. Yesterday, I was the advice-giver, to a guy I know from my son's preschool, whose own son I suspect is either autistic or MR. I have always longed for a community, and for a sense of purpose. This is not the community or the purpose I would have chosen for myself, but it is valuable and meaningful nonetheless. One of my friends here, who is fortunate enough to have two perfectly normal children, often tells me what a great job I'm doing and how surely something amazing will come of this, like I'll invent something or become a famous autism researcher. Though I tell her, she doesn't understand that there are thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, of parents across the nation who work and fight just as hard as me, to get their kids services. I think she wants to believe I am putting up a valiant fight and effort, and that therefore it will be rewarded in the end by my son losing the diagnosis or, at least, being successful despite it. But I don't think it works that way. You work your ass off to help your kid because there is no other conscionable choice. This is the person you love most in the world. A good outcome is what you hope for, but it's not guaranteed. I try not to think about that too much, though.