My, What a Lovely Family You Have

One of the coping mechanisms I have developed since The Autism came is to develop a thick skin, to let comments people say sort of bounce off me. Not much will offend me enough to do more than laugh and that's a good thing, a very good thing.  I've discovered that our family can sometimes make people feel . . . uncomfortable.  And when people feel uncomfortable, they tend to say what they're thinking and then it gets kind of uncomfortable  for me.

What do they say?  Here's a few memorable moments:

She Said: "Thank goodness you don't have more at home.  That's the last thing you need."

What She Meant:  "You can't even handle the kids you have now.  You need to close up shop, lady.  No more kids for you.  Ever."

About four years ago, I was on the hunt for a new pediatrician.  Finding a new doctor for the kids is incredibly frustrating.  The office needs to run on time, the staff need to be autism-friendly, and the doctor has to listen to me (because, let's face it, I know a lot more about autism than they do.  I'm not bragging.  I live with it every single day.  They write referrals to pediatric neurologists).

This particular doctor, let's call her Dr. M, came highly recommended.  But, alas, there was a mistake, on the part of the office, in scheduling.  We had to wait over an hour.  At lunchtime.  The boys were, um, not exactly calm when we finally got called back. While trying to get one boy weighed, another escaped.  When I got him back, the next one took off.  It was like a scene from a bad sitcom starring me as the lovable but frazzled and clearly incompetent parent.  After getting my sprints in for the day chasing wily, squiggly boys, we finally got into the room.

Dr. M arrived shortly thereafter.  Before she even began the actual exams, she went through a list of questions, one of which was, "Do you have any other children at home?"  Before I could even answer, she said in that way people say things under their breath but really want you to hear it, "Thank goodness you don't have more at home.  That's the last thing you need."

As you might imagine, we never went back to see her.

Also, two years later, I had another kid . . . . you know, just to spite her.

What She Should have Said Instead:  "My, what a lovely family you have."
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What She Said:  "And the two with autism are adopted, right?"

What She Meant:  "I can't believe you'd actually kept having kids after one was diagnosed with autism.  At least if they're adopted, you're like a martyr for adopting special needs kids and not, like, crazy."

All four at nine months old.

Just one teeny, tiny problem.  Our kids look just like us and each other.  Sorry, not adopted. (For the record, I think adoption is an amazing thing).

We did, in fact, continue to have children after the first one was diagnosed with autism.  Actually, I was four months pregnant with the third one (who would later also be diagnosed) while our oldest son was diagnosed.  I love each one of our children.  Are some days very difficult?  Absolutely.  Is it worth it?  Yes.

So, yes, I am just crazy.

What She Should Have Said: "My, what a lovely family you have."
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What She Said: "Your husband can never die.  You'd never find anyone to marry you."

What She Meant:  "No man on God's green earth would want to be saddled with you and your four kids, especially because two have autism."

First, my husband is never dying.  Ever.  Out of the question. Second, okay, this may be the truest statement of them all.  I'm blessed to have found the one guy to put up with my bad housekeeping, sarcasm, and occasional crying jags.  Aside from making pretty spectacular chocolate chip cookies, my merits as a wife are suspect.

So. I'll just refer back to the first point: my husband is never dying.

What She Should Have Said: "My, what a lovely family you have."
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Other safe alternatives where you're at a loss for words:
"I love your family."
"Thanks for hanging out with me."
"How can I help?"
"I'll be praying for you."
"I'll watch your children while you eat this giant chocolate bar and drink this bottle of wine."

I know most people aren't purposely trying to offend me but that doesn't mean it hurts any less.  If they could just think about what they're saying first.  How would it sound if someone said it to you?   When in doubt, kindness (and silence) always win.

Also wine and chocolate and laughing.  Those things win too.