By day: mum of an autistic tot. By night: mum of an autistic tot.
I have joined the ranks of Jenny McCarthy and Polly Tommey (ick). No, I don’t believe vaccines cause autism nor am I about to shove a ton of useless supplements down Pwdin’s throat or put him through the abuse of a “cure” programme. I have, however, been exposing my baps to all and sundry lately.
My Pwd is mad about boobies. He won’t leave mine alone and beware any buxom babes if Pwd’s is anywhere near. It’s becoming/has become a real issue. Generally I couldn’t give a flying one what people think about Pwd’s behaviour but when he’s pulling down my tops or dresses in public to get a handful of hooter, then it is pretty embarrassing.
Now, back in the day, single me was no timid little flower but then my rather ample boobs hadn’t been through pregnancy, breast feeding nor three and a half years of Pwd grabbing them. They’re now covered in gouges and marks where Pwd digs his nails in and bits of my flesh out – he does the same with my neck and cheeks. These days, when I free the boobs from the bra I’m likely to be pulling one or other nipple out of my belly button before too long: really you wouldn’t believe the suction!
of course the advice on stopping him is always the same – wear a high neck top. Oh dear. Some of these seemingly low tops I have started out as high ones. Pwd will do just about anything to get through them. He’s bitten through, ripped through, stretched clothes completely out of shape so tell me, oh wise professionals, what should I wear?
The next thing is “don’t let him do it.” Wow. Wish I’d thought of that because of course I let him do it. Just like I let him tear up the new flooring we put down in the hallway, just like I let him run at full pelt into the walls. Any more advice?
Don’t go near him. Hmm. Then who, pray tell, is supposed to care for my child? The second I’m near him he wants my boobs. I’ve got him the greatest toys, taken him to the most fun places and as long as I’m there he wants…
This is getting really tired now and is just a tiny part of the angst I’m feeling towards professionals involved with my little Pwdin at the moment. There’s the whole, “It’s been done but we haven’t got it to you yet, ” drama over a particular document we’ve been chasing. Well, lovely, the job’s not done as far as you’re concerned until that piece of paper is in my sweaty grasp. Then there’s the “I’ve just done what I promised you I’d do six weeks ago as soon as I got off the phone from you chasing me up this afternoon. Can I have a medal please?” Of course you can, I just need to know what colour medal is traditional for lazy and incompetent wastes of public funds. If you’re one of the four people to whom these statements could apply then let me urge you – sort yourselves out!
It’s obvious from all that ranting that it’s been ages since I sat down to write an Autismum post and today this is pretty much the first time I’ve sat down at all!
The last few weeks I’ve been poorly poo. Got the ‘flu vaccine and still ended up with ‘flu. At least I think it was ‘flu – had the aches, pains and head sweats but no runny nose – my guess is I had a vaccine modified version and that was bad enough.
Plenty of people say that they know someone who got the ‘flu from the vaccine which is total nonsense. It contains no live virus. Unfortunately, it’s not the most effective vaccine we have but at 60-80% effective (depending on identifying the correct ‘flu strain) the odds that it will afford you protection are pretty high. Of course you can still get the ‘flu and chances are I was exposed to it before the vaccine reached full strength. What all this amounts to is, yes, I’ll take some sympathy!
Not a week passed after getting over that lurgi than I got hit by the next one and that wiped me out for most of last week. Feeling better now so on with the post. How brave I am.
Can’t contain myself much longer…we met Alex Winters from Cbeebies on Saturday! What a lovely and charming man. We arranged with the manager of Mothercare where Alex was making a personal appearance to go in early (Alex is in panto in South Wales). That the store would be so accommodating is lovely in itself but the reception Alex gave my little Pwdin was really special.
He spent time cwtching Pwd and playing and unlike many others – who should know better – didn’t give up on him despite Pwd not responding with chatter. The two of them were giggling away together very happily and I could have just left Pwdin with him and got on with my shopping. If only!
This openness and patience with the boy is in such sharp contrast to how people usually react to him. Pwd is a big lad – not fat but tall and solid. He’s a three year old in 5-6year old clothing. People assume he’s much older than he is. Even so, whether or not he drinks from a bottle with a teat is none of your business Ms Asda checkout troll.
This woman was disgusted to see Pwd drinking from a Paediasure bottle and threatened to throw it in the bin. I resisted the urge to threaten her. I think the look on my face said it all seeing as she didn’t breathe another word. Surely, she must have stacked enough shelves in her time to realise that what Pwd was enjoying isn’t your average milk.
This isn’t the first time comments have been made about Pwdin”s feeding habits and I apologise to anyone who’s heard this before. When he was not even two and a half, Pwd and I were in a Cardiff coffee shop waiting for Hubby to arrive. There are certain cafés and restaurants Pwd loves and the Fino in Whitchurch is one of them.
Whilst we were waiting Pwd had a paediasure. I heard a woman from the next table say, very much to be heard, “That boy’s way too old for a bottle.” I was fuming.
When asked to repeat her remark, the local parenting guru was more than pleased to do so. I casually commented that she may think my son too old to be feeding that way but that I thought she was way too old to be wearing leopard print. She took her leave shortly afterwards.
I don’t feel the need to scream “Autism” at anyone who criticises my boy or my parenting. I do not ever, never, ever apologise for him being autistic. I’ll apologise if he breaks something or grabs someone but never, “Sorry, he’s autistic.” Sometimes I will tell someone who is being lovely to him but doesn’t get a reaction that he isn’t a rude child, he has autism and that, in his way, he’s enjoying the fuss and attention.
However, as Pwd gets older the gulf between him and his peers and what is generally expected of a child of his age widens. This results in plenty of looks and comments. It won’t affect Pwd for years to come but it does affect me. It doesn’t sting or hurt like you might imagine but seriously angers me just how ignorant idiots feel the need to have their opinions intrude in your life. It always shocks them that I don’t get upset and I’ve built up a good come back or two. So, you can say whatever you like about my boy. I’m ready!