Worthy

 

Mama and baby, summer 2007

My favorite animal is the cat.  Just your ordinary housecat.  We had several as pets as I grew up, ones that were acquired as kittens and grew up before my eyes.  Ones with silky soft fur and loud, rolling purrs.  It wasn't just because they were sleek and easy to care for.  I love the independence of cats.  I love that they don't give their affection to just anyone (you know, not like those gross drooling dogs).  You have to prove yourself to a cat.  You have to be calm, be kind, and then you have to wait for them to come to you.  I remember the cat that jumped from my sister's arms as soon as she brought it in the house and streaked down the hall to my room, where it cowered under my bed for three days.  Three DAYS.  It might have snuck out to use the litter box or get some food while we weren't home, but whenever we walked back in, there it was, hissing and spitting just out of reach.  After the first day, we stopped trying to coax it out.  It might have been out of compassion, or just frustration.  Either way, we let it be.  And, after three days, it did.  It had decided that we were okay people (probably after we stopped crawling towards it in that dark, close space, and calling for it to come out).  And what happens once you've earned a cat's love?  All over you.  On your lap.  In your bed.  Its not as easy to notice how close cats stay, because they are quiet, and also because they have this way of seeming as though you've both just walked into the same room by coincidence.  Oh, were you coming to the living room too?  Sitting on the couch?  Me too, the cat seems to say.  Isn't that funny?  Well, we may as well sit together.  No sense pretending we don't know each other.  And if you could just scratch riiiight there...you know the spot I like.

Duck Hunt 2009

And, not to trivialize or disrespect anyone, but autism can be like that.  My son reminds me of the cats that I loved to cuddle but had to give up when I started dating my husband (he's allergic).  He doesn't have that loud, sloppy, friend-to-anyone doglike tendency that some kids display.  In a new setting, an unknown house for example, he's more likely to do the human equivalent of hiding under a bed for three days.  He will never willingly become the center of attention, he lets his little brothers handle that.  The way a cat will survey the perimeter, keeping its distance...that's how he acts around people he doesn't know.  He won't answer your questions, no matter how loudly you pose them.  He may, in fact, shy away from those who persist in their queries, for some reason raising their voices in response to his lack of eye contact and "refusal" to answer.  Its not because he doesn't understand, or because he doesn't like you.  He's keeping his distance until you prove yourself.  And I'm waiting for you to show your true colors too.

This is one of those aspects of special needs parenting that can either be a positive or a negative...it all depends on how we see it.  For me, using my child as a barometer for the worthiness of our relationships is a good thing.  It saves so much time.  It weeds out the half-hearted and self-centered.  What is left is a smaller number, but it is powerful.  It is a group of warriors.  People who care SO MUCH that they don't let hand flapping or perseveration keep them away from us.  People who drop down to his level to say hi, who let it go if he doesn't respond in kind, who break into huge smiles when he does.  People who join in the hunt for discarded shoes and scarves when its time to go, who help with trips to the bathroom when our hands are full.  People who say, "Come on over!" or better yet, "Drop them off!" and we can say okay.  Because we know their worth.

Brother love after the first day of kindergarten, August 2012