When Timothy was 3 and Sarah was a newborn, there was a problem in play group. One of the mothers had an unpleasant, violent child. To make matters worse, the mother rubbed us all the wrong way from the get go (she was fairly new to the area) and people were leaving the group because of her and Bam Bam. I had invited her to the group, so the general feeling was that it was up to me to say something. If it were my child, I would want someone to tell me, I reasoned.
I should have waited to call until I had calmed down to dial – maybe a whole two days after Bam Bam gave Timothy a black eye with a Buzz Lightyear doll. Predictably, the conversation did not go well. I asked if she thought perhaps her kid was too rough for our gentle, attachment parenting, boob loving group. She claimed Bam Bam was just “being a boy” and all of our boys just needed to “toughen up”, which horrified me. I asked her if she had noticed his speech was delayed. I asked her if she noticed any difference between her child and the other 3 year olds. From there it got a bit ugly. There were a lot of tears.
I am not proud of myself for that call. Even though Mrs. Bam was not my cup of tea, it could have been handled better. At the time, I felt that not sugar-coating things was the easiest way to go. In hindsight, maybe someone with tact would have done better.
But…
Maybe not.
I read everything about Asperger’s and Autism I can. I read medical texts, magazines, blogs, novels, memoirs and biographies from parents and people with an ASD. Over and over I read How could I have not known? How could I have missed this?
I thought that too. Exactly that. After the shock wore off when we got the official diagnosis, that is what I said to everyone who would listen. To read this statement, written in countless blogs and books only a few different ways, is so sad to me. It makes me feel a tiny bit like less of an ass, but not much. Cold comfort, misery loves company and all that.
My mind goes back to Timothy at 2, reading on the sofa. “Hyperlexia” never would have occurred to me, but “Gifted” did. Who thinks precocious reading could be a symptom of something else? An early reader myself, I did not. As I was boxing up his old Duplos for sale this weekend, I found the little yellow back to the dump truck. About as big as my fist, it was pretty much a cube with one hinged side. Timothy loved that when he was 2, and would spend hours putting a little toy cat inside of it, then opening and shutting it. He would also line up his wooden train track in one long, winding road and rarely touched the trains. He had a knack for reciting lines from cartoons and commercials.
One day at play group, the same play group Mrs. Bam was asked to leave, the host mother came and told me Timothy was playing with the ball track in the play room. Alone. For 30 minutes. I smiled and said something about how he was such an easy kid. She said, Is he always like that? I blew her off. I was happy he could entertain himself. None of these behaviors seemed odd to me at the time.
When Timothy was in second grade, I was getting sometimes more than three phone calls a week from Timothy’s school. Finally, they called me in… the principal, the teacher and the counselor. I went alone. Timothy was just “being a boy” after all, and all normal, active boys wiggled around a lot. All kids were clumsy at some point. Not everyone is born an extrovert I said. He was quirky, smart and polite. I felt like they had slapped me when the principle leaned over and gently asked if I had ever thought about Autism. It’s a broad umbrella, she said quickly, please think about it.
Years after that terrible phone call to Mrs. Bam, I ran into her at the mall. She had Bam Bam, his new sister and a woman she introduced as Bam Bam’s aide with her. She cast her eyes down and muttered that Bam Bam was diagnosed with slight MR and PDD-NOS. We looked at each other. She looked like she might cry. We wished each other Happy Holidays and parted ways.
2 Comments
November 10, 2009 at 6:30 am
I luff you.
I, too, was one of those “he’s just really smart” or “he’s just being a boy” moms for a year or so. But now…everything is just so much better now that I know and have some tools to cope with the child my child actually is.
November 12, 2009 at 7:17 am
I have had a few experiences with Bam Bam-types over the years and I now force myself to wait for a bit before saying anything because, well, I have a big mouth. It is hard when you meet someone you’ve had a run-in with and they seem noticeably upset. Been there. You just never know how things are going to turn out.