Dinner, Speculations and a Dose of Reflection

I have some hesitation in writing this particular post. I fear I may be too judgmental of parents or families who have neuro-typical kids. And that I may be contradicting my own mantra of refusing to criticize my neighbor until I have walked a mile in their shoes. But then, when I think about it, when will I really get to walk a mile in their moccasins? Literally? Never. After all we are given different life circumstances and resources to go with it. I can only imagine and speculate what I would do if I were in their situation. Pretty much like everyone else, I think.

What I can do though is to bring out memories of my neuro-typical childhood and upbringing, examine my own values and philosophies borne out of my present circumstances and create a scenario and solution had I been given other parents’ predicament. The predicament I am talking about?

My partner and I were out for dinner last night and beside our table was a family finishing their meal. This was the scenario—the father and another adult, the uncle perhaps and the mother were talking animatedly, exchanging stories, etc. There were three kids—all boys. 2 were most likely in their teens and the youngest probably 9 or 10 years old. The 9 year-old was busy eating his food. The older boys were busy. Busy playing games on the iPhone. Both of them were crouched over, silent and totally engrossed in what they were playing. There was no conversation exchanged. When it was time to go, the father announced a faint, “Let’s go.” The two older boys stood up, but their heads still on their respective iPhones, even while pushing back their chairs. Still no words uttered. Not even a “thank you, Dad or Mom for the dinner.”

Or maybe they said thank you in the car…attention still focused on the game on the cellular phone. Or maybe they didn’t.

I thought to myself when they left the restaurant, “ What a waste of time and money. And the boys! Wow, they have postures of a 90 year old man all hunched over.”
So why this post? I think maybe because these are the times when I imagine myself in the shoes of “normal” parents. And how I imagine it to be! So if you would be so kind to allow me my “musings”.

If I were in their shoes, when I take my children out to dinner, NO PHONES ALLOWED. ONLY TALKING—face to face. What to talk about? ANYTHING! Under the sun. And eating of course—enjoying the flavors of the dish served on the table.

If I were in their shoes, I would ask endless of questions to my kids. If they get annoyed by my constant pestering, I would pester then some more just to elicit a meaningful response so we can have a meaningful conversation.

If I were in their shoes, I would encourage my kids to ask questions. Endless questions. I know some parents complain how they tire out answering their kids’ questions to the point of annoyance. Again, I can only imagine. But maybe if I were in their place, I would stop the barrage of questions only when it is time to sleep. Even if my answers would eventually turn out to be silly, maybe I wouldn’t mind and maybe they wouldn’t mind. I know it would feed their souls as much as it would their intellectual abilities.

If I were in their shoes and the kids ask me why the sky is blue and the sea green, the sun bright yellow, gleaming and glaring and the rain comes pouring out in torrents and why the stars twinkle in the night sky, I would surely answer them to the best of my ability until they are satisfied until the next question pops in their head.

If I were in their shoes, I would ask them how their day went, who’s going out with who, what’s the latest fashion trend or computer game or television show or what’s trending nowadays, What or who’s following, etc... And when they do answer, I would listen, really listen.

If I were in their shoes I would encourage my kids to ask me questions about my life, how I came to be, my parents—their grandparents, how I am the mother they see everyday. I would tell them my story. The stories of their lolos and lolas (Filipino for Grandmother and Grandfather), their ama’s and angkong’s. (Chinese for Grandmother and Grandfather) I would tell them my dreams—accomplished or yet to be realized, lessons learned along the way and experiences that could never be bought or taught in the classroom. Even if they seem to be uninterested, I would make them be interested because there are lessons to be learned and values to be taught.

If I were in their shoes, I would ask my kids “What do you want to be when you grow up? What do you like to do? What are your dreams?” And it would not matter if their answers were silly or not. What would matter to me is that they spoke of their dreams. And they have stories to tell.

If I were in their shoes, there would be hundreds of stories to tell, even thousands. And my kids would hopefully learn to look people in the eye when they speak, confidently and sure of themselves because they are more than what meets the eye. They have stories to tell. Real ones. And they know how to communicate it to the world.

So anyway, enough of my musings. Let me wrap it all up with this—If only I were in their shoes. But I am not. My life is a whole different universe. My boys are worlds apart from theirs. And I am not saying, my boys are any less than theirs intellectually. They’re just differently-abled. But here’s the thing about being different, we live in one and the same world. What I do know is that in our world, to be able to communicate—to speak is essential for survival, and not just to voice out one’s needs for food and water. Because we are social beings, we thrive on relationships. No man is an island. And for relationships to even begin is to learn how to make a good conversation, to tell stories, whether real or fiction. And how do you expect a 14-year old to establish good relationships if half the time, his body posture is crouched over a gadget? They are able to speak. Let them speak, even if it would annoy you to bits. I know I would. If only I were in your shoes.

Over and above all my speculations of what I would do if I were to walk a mile in other “normal” parents’ moccasins, I have come to accept that Autism has given my kids a language of their own. A language that goes far beyond words and semantics. A language that speaks volumes louder than words. I have learned to see the beauty of it. But most of the times, it creates hard challenges for us parents, and most especially for our boys as they strive to live in our world…as you can only speculate and imagine as well. This is why for them to even utter a single word is absolute heaven for us. This is why if I were in your place—parents with “normal” kids, I would be grateful every single minute that my kids can speak… and not only a single word, they can speak stories, volumes and volumes of stories that emanates from their heart, minds and souls.

So maybe, when the times come when your kids pester you relentlessly with their questions, and you get annoyed, maybe what you can do is to imagine yourself in my shoes and in the shoes of all the Autism parents out there and to speculate what you would do if you were to walk a mile in our moccasins. Maybe then, this time, you would react differently to your kids. Maybe you would realize how blessed you are to have kids who can express their thoughts, feelings and emotions in a clear understandable manner. And maybe then, your kids will be able to set aside the iphone for a dose of good conversation with you. Maybe they will have better postures this time around, sitting straight and relaxed looking people in the eye. Maybe this time when you eat out, the bill you pay for dinner and time spent with your kids will be well worth it.