On Realizing Your Child Doesn’t Enjoy What Other Kids Enjoy

“Did you pack the toothbrushes?” When we met each other’s eyes we realized neither of us had.

This sentence means something different for our in family.

Our toothbrushes were in fact tucked away neatly into a side pocket of my bag. But we have a separate grouping of toothbrushes.

A special one, just for our son Cormac.

It started small.

When Cormac was first diagnosed at 18 months he exhibited many sensory seeking behaviors and had not yet delved in the graces of therapy or Early Intervention. He was chewing his fingers, and mouthing everything.

Upon the start of Occupational Therapy, we began to purchase what we could made just for kids with sensory issues to chew on. As we all know-they get lost, it gets expensive.

We resorted to tooth brushes. The collection would build.

I found them in my bed, purse, seat cushions and before I knew it they were given as gifts. The mouthing stopped, but the tooth brushes remained.

So, standing in our door way we did the shuffle on looking at each other’s full hands to see who it would be easier for to put their items down and gather the tooth brushes.

I lost, collected a few tooth brushes, and we left for a night of Halloween fun.

These are things you hear as a parent but can not grasp until they happen.

Holidays are rough on everyone. Holidays are rough for parents with Special Needs.

You’re all nodding, sighing, silently agreeing, and recalling a holiday memory that sticks out like a sore thumb in your Autism Memory Bank.

Cormac was two months shy of his second birthday when we decided to take him out for Halloween.

We weren’t that excited-his concept of the world around him was lost and his expression was mostly vacant unless he was immersed in a feverant coloring activity, staring at a handful of tooth brushes, or watching the introduction scene to a tv show or movie.

But we did. We met out friends, dressed him up as a Gorilla in a costume we borrowed last minute, and got out candy bag ready while his eyes darted around trying to comprehend the change in scenery all the while avoiding our eyes.

So what’s the big deal?

When we have children, we start to imagine all the things we did as kids that we loved. That brought us joy, that give us the warm fuzzies, the Halloween costumes, the candy, the decorations, the spooky movies.

And we imagine doing this with our new mini-me’s, and we get those comforting nostalgic feelings all over again.

But then you find out it won’t be the same.

Your child may not care. Your child may not notice. Your child may even be uncomfortable, upset, or over stimulated and overwhelmed by this type of holiday.

And it seems just so small, but you feel robbed of your son or daughters childhood, and for some reason you may even feel it’s your fault.

But we did the Halloween thing, we did it for us. We did it for the pictures, we did it for other people.

We struggled through the houses, he threw himself down, forgot how to walk, and his expression grew blanker and blanket with each house.

After a bit, we decided it was time to break away from or friends and their very excited children, and head to my in-laws where Cormac’s cousins would be taking pictures in costumes.

Upon arrival we were met with kids excitedly dressed in their costumes, shaking their bags of sugary treasures, enjoying Halloween. Cormac found the lit up fish tank, and glued his face to it for the remainder of our visit.

I felt defeated. I felt jealous.

I felt like I was wasting my time as Cormac tugged at the neck of his costume, looking down at the fake fur with slight confusion.

A mutual agreeance brought us to the local pizza shop for a drink with two friends to finish out our evening, figuring we could at least enjoy a portion of it.

We set Cormac up with his iPad for comfort and distraction and he disappeared into a lit up world of animations and colors, placing our phones on top of the screen for extra ambiance.

A table of teenage girls snapped a few pictures, snuck some side ways glances and dirty looks.

Upon leaving, one of them commented on how “they would never let their child…” I didn’t hear the rest of it, but I knew what she was talking about.

I was crushed. I know they’re teenagers.

I know they don’t know the much needed comfort of distracting an autistic toddler for the sake of a few minutes of emotional and mental relief, to spend a few minutes distracting myself from what I realized for the first time as a parent of a child with autism on their first diagnosed holiday: my holidays are never going to be what I expected.

I was emotionally raw, I cried the whole way home despite my friends kind reassurance that the table of girls wasn’t talking about us, and maybe they weren’t, but I’ll never know.

It was my first experience with the cruelty of autism ignorance in the societal public and I can’t say I’ll ever forget it. I’m sure you all remember yours.

We packed up our tooth brushes and with a new unwelcome sense of awareness, I mentally prepared myself that this wasn’t the first, and it won’t be the last.

Long live the toothbrush.

What was your first event where your child was judged?

Written by, Elizabeth Perry

My name is Elizabeth, our family lives in Hoosick Falls, NY and we’re about (a very long) year and a half into Cormac’s diagnosis. He’s now 3! It’s been a roller coaster but we’ve been figuring it out one day at a time. (Until it changes)

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