Surviving Summer (E9)

Day 9: Birthday time!
Today was all the feels. All. The. Feels. Trauma. Frustration. Rage. Excitement. Relief. The Teen Queen and I were on B-boy duty today- S was working, and the middle girls were in their week long summer theatre school. After a breakfast of cheese balls, strawberries and apple juice (natch), we decided to take him to one of his favourite local parks. The walk down involves a wander along the quay, and through flapping and excited noises, we established that B would like to go on a boat today. OK. Plan change. Luckily it’s summer and there are multiple ferries every day from the quay over to Brownsea Island. The island is pretty deserted even on a busy day, since the only way to get there is via boat. So B’s request was totally doable. We bought tickets, I grabbed food from Tesco Express (other stores are available) and we boarded.
Rookie error. We boarded a whole ten minutes before we actually left, and the B-boy does not do waiting. His attention span reflects more accurately a 10 month old rather than his own 10 years. Cue enormous meltdown. I’m talking fight or flight, flailing, wailing meltdown-the kind that only a-rage-filled toddlers and b-autistic people are prone to. I say ‘prone to’ because while onlookers may see a mega temper tantrum, what needs to be made clear is the fact that this is completely beyond anyone’s control, especially the person experiencing the meltdown. In this case, the B-boy. The boat was, inevitably, completely packed. D was incredible. Calmly being my back up as I physically restrained my kid for his own, and everyone else’s safety. He still managed to kick the person in front, and backhand the person behind, and almost post himself through the bars into the sea below. But I’m damned if I’m giving up at this point. I’d optimistically predicted that as soon as the boat started going he’d calm down, but actually, he was way too gripped by the adrenaline and distress, and we were all subject to around 45 minutes of sheer hell. Fuck autism at this point. And fuck the haters. Those eye rollers and tutters and intolerant dickheads- do you seriously think either me or my kid is enjoying this shit any more than you? Have some empathy. In contrast, God bless those incredible humans who threw sympathetic smiles my way, and told me not to worry at all even whilst being subjected to B’s physical chaos and REALLY LOUD SCREAMING in their immediate ear canal vicinity.
As it happened, we did make it. B had a lull after the adrenaline wore off, which meant we had a calm walk on Brownsea round to a fairly empty woodland area. He loves woods-there’s lots of fun things to pick up and post, and invented the most excellent game-climbing up on a treestump and pushing D over, both of which were apparently hilarious. The birthday giggles more than made up for the previous chaos, and we breathed easy for a while. The rest of the day was filled with heading back on the boat (luckily an emptier one with a bucket for him to stick his head in for the full ferry vibration experience), the hoover, his new tiny washing machine, spinning plates and dribbling all over birthday cake he then chose not to eat. The classic birthday shenanigans are definitely for the benefit of the girls rather than him, but that’s OK. Aside from the traumatic meltdown, the kid had a lovely, B-ish day. It’s only my own expectations, and the societal norms, which cause me stress when it comes to stuff like this. We celebrated B in his own special way, and for today, for him, that was more than enough.

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