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My son has some wonderful and not so wonderful quirks:

1. He can taste different foods when he says certain words.  Most have absolutely nothing to do with the food except pizza.  How cool is it that when you say the word pizza, you taste pizza, but don't get all those extra calories?
2. My son is a walking calendar.  He remembers the day and date of an event.  For instance, he can tell you what day his 8th birthday was.  
3. There is so such thing as modesty.  He doesn't feel embarrassed to walk around without clothes on.  
4. He thinks in pictures.  When he spells he sees the word in his head.  On the flip side, this makes reading chapter books with lots of words and minimal pictures hard.  Without a picture to go with the words, he can't follow the story.  And, abstract ideas are even worse.
5. Addition and subtraction facts are hard for him to remember but he breezes through his multiplication facts.
6. Texture in food is important.  Don't give him chunks in his spaghetti sauce.  I have to strain his sauce.
7. His taste buds require strong tastes.  He likes really sweet, really salty and really spicy.  When he was 5, we were at a restaurant with some friends.  He walked up to the table, picked up the salt shaker, and started pouring it down his throat.  Yuck!
8. What a great thing to have a movie projector in your brain.  Sometimes though, apparently, the movie fails.
9. Rules are important, but only his rules.  If he doesn't believe in a rule, forget it!  It's tough teaching him that he has to follow them because he's just required to.  
10. In the same vein, ritual is important so the same things that happen at mass are a comfort to him.  He always notices when Father Richard uses different wording during mass.
11. He is partial to blondes but lately a certain brunette 16 year old has caught his eye.
12. He loves lists.  Lists of basketball teams, lists of books, lists of football teams.  He's a walking encyclopedia.  
13. He's loving and lovable.  Usually.  He's funny.  And, affectionate.  And, talkative.  
14. He's my son.

And, I love him.

Or would that be the lack thereof.

When Brother was little, he would plop himself down as if he fell to start a conversation with someone.  It was painful to watch.  I just thought he was weird.  It turns out he was trying to communicate and that was the only way he could.  It was awkward to say the least.

Things haven't changed much; his efforts are still pretty awkward.

One of the things he uses to start a conversation is to ask a question.  Unfortunately, the other kids have been asked the same question over and over.  Sometimes they ignore him.  Sometimes they give a slurred answer hoping he'll walk away.  It's still painful to watch.

He has better luck with adults because adults can ask more leading questions and get the conversation moving.  

Social cues are difficult for him to pick up on too.  He can't read faces very well although I think he's become an expert on mine (especially when we're working on math).  

Sometimes I think he can oblivious to other kids ignoring him, but I've found out that he knows.  He understands that they're being mean.  I just don't think he knows how to handle it.  It's tough being known as the annoying one by some of the bigger kids.  

One thing that we can do is help him by role playing.  His mind is like a computer.  If he's had an experience similar to what's happening, he can retrieve the proper response from his brain.  However, if something is completely beyond his experience, it can be tough.  Nothing is intuitive about interaction with other people.

If you know a person with autism.  Give him a chance.  Help him with his conversation.  And, if he rattles on too long about his obssession current interest, just tell him flat out that he's talking about it too much.  Usually, he doesn't even realize it.

When my son was diagnosed with autism, I had just found out the day before I was pregnant with Pumpkin.  It was a very bittersweet time for me.  I felt overwhelmed by many emotions.  I was riding a high from the positive pregnancy test and then I crashed with the news that Brother did indeed have autism.  And, my low was tempered by the knowledge that there's a name for all of Brother's issues.  There were many moments when I had been feeling a failure as a parent because things just did not work with Brother.  

I also grieved for what might have been.  What kind of man would he have grown to be if he were "normal"?  Was he going to be independent?  How was I going to ensure he was taken care of for the rest of his life?  What kind of a big brother would he have been?  With all of his successes, those fears and thoughts started to disappear.  I thought I had gotten a handle on those emotions.

They have started to rear it's ugly heads again.  As Brother has grown and developed, different issues have come up.  He doesn't have any close friends.  You know, a friend who will play/socialize with you even in a group situation.  One that doesn't just spend time with you when there's no one else but because he likes to be with you.  He has friends.  Friends who play with him.  But, no one special.  He wants to have a great friend.  But, his lack of social conversation, his inability to read social cues, his inability to just jump into a game and play have hampered him.  I see other boys when he's with them and their eyes glaze over.  

I see other boys avoid him.  I hear other boys call him the annoying one.  I know what it's like to converse with him.  It can be like Groundhog Day; the same thing over and over again.  But, as an adult I can steer him to other topics and move him on.  

So, the grief still lingers.  I HAVE embraced who he is, but I'm still sad for what is not.  And, not for me, but for him.  I don't want him to be lonely.  I want his life to be easier.  What mother wouldn't?

My son has autism.

He remembers everyone's birthdays.  It's nice having a walking calendar.

He struggles with comprehension when he reads.

He plays house unceasingly with his youngest sister.

He retreats into himself when there is too much sensory stimulation.

He doesn't understand sarcasm, jokes, or idioms.

He has a great sense of humor.

He can watch a movie inside his head to keep entertained.

He has trouble recognizing social cues.

He recognizes when his friends are excluding him.

He LOVES mass and all the rituals involved.  Being an altar server has bolstered his confidence.

He loves his mother and sisters.

He loves his father and misses him very much; so much so that he can't talk about it.

This is the face of autism.

I plan on continuing my posts on autism awareness this month.  And, I dedicate my posts to Ryan Barrett whose life inspired me and whose death devastated me.  May you rest in peace.