Susan Senator

I spend so much time thinking about autism; studying it like a college course. I give talks and travel all over the place expounding on autism. The last few days I was in Washington serving on a panel alongside scientists, reviewing autism research grants. The cerebellum was working overtime. Autismautismautismautismautismautismautismautismautimsautismupthewazoo.

I was asked over and over again, what, among other things, ist my plan for Nat when Ned and I are old and unable to care for him (or dead). I always say, “My plan is not to die.” That is not much of a plan. So I spend a lot of time talking to people and programs and agencies about what we’re supposed to do when he’s older.

It’s a lot to worry about. I have spent a lot of his life worrying and planning. Shoot.

This morning as I was running around collecting odds and ends for boys’ costumes, I realized I was having a lot of fun — with and because of my boys. I had to take B to TJ Maxx to get some brown socks to cut up (he was going as Link and needed stuff like brown gauntlets — let me tell you, I know a lot about gauntlets; they are a necessary part of the bellydance cossie:)

So we cut up socks, pinned on his hat, belted his tunic. Nat, on the other hand, was Aladdin — as Prince Ali. Max was a Jedi Wizard. All made out of stuff we had, some of it years old.

I suddenly thought how so much of my autism parenting is planning and worry. So much of my parenting in general is. Baby days. Preschool. Elementary school. Bullies. Tough homework. High school. Girlfriends. College. Independent living. It’s the job description.

But tonight it was just wrapping boys up in ugly old shmatahs and sneaking candy.

Look at my three goofballs. There, nothing to worry about. Except — gotta go through the candy, make sure they are careful crossing the street, …