Happy Mother's Day

When I am not shouting at my children, sitting on my bum eating sweets or idly picking fluff from my naval, I work nights at a hotel.

This past weekend has seen a rather large science fiction event being held on site.  As well as The Doctor (and you know which one I mean - the scarfy one with the hat) and some other ones who are Most Definitely Not The Doctor, there were a lot of extremely dedicated fans, amongst whom were a number of very devoted autistic adults.

I wasn't working for much of the weekend and missed the most exciting parts (which included a large blue policeman's box, a small man in a robot outfit shouting out a four syllable word, both of which The Boy would have adored and, of course, THE DOCTOR himself, ). 

I had been "warned" that "they" were a "pain", that they were "weird" and someone even rather stupidly said that it was ok for the autistic people to dress up and pretend to be characters, but not "the normal ones."

People can't help being idiotic and crass.  It still hurts because even though right now my children are little, they will eventually become "weird adults".  I expect that others will respect and remember that I have disabled children, especially the people I work with, some of whom I find to be, frankly, more than a bit odd themselves.

Last night, a number of our guests came up to show me the photographs they had had taken with "their" doctor.  Most had the same expression of complete disbelief, but the fact that they were so excited was infectious, to me at least. They had taken on various poses; various guises; various characters.  All were delighted, and it genuinely affected me.

My favourite point is the young man who comes to see me at 3am this morning, with his mum.  He is 21, and dressed as the most flamboyant Most Definitely Not The Doctor.  He shows me a number of pictures that have been taken of him with both The Doctor and Most Definitely Not The Doctors, him inside a blue policebox, etc.  He speaks very little, apart from to do a number of very accurate impressions, and to tell me, most insistently, that today is Mother's Day and that this is his mum.  He then gives his mum a small stroke of the arm and goes to look at the water in the fountain.

His mum tells me that her son is autistic, mostly non verbal.  He is suffering from extreme depression, and regularly tries to hurt himself.  He dreams of dying.  He can lock into his own world and not acknowledge her for days at a time.  She is her son's only support, and they have been locked out of the system. 

She tells me that this is the first year he has even had it in mind that it is Mother's Day, and only because there was a sign by the signing point that said "Happy Mother's Day".  She tells me that he does not usually touch her, that his speech is very limited, but that through coming to events like these, he has learnt to expand his vocabulary, found many like minded people, and that the stars themselves know how to interact with children like ours as they know that many of them are fans.  She is visibly both over joyed and struggling.

As a friend of mine put it, for parents of special children, we try harder and are overjoyed with seemingly less.

It's not less, not really. It's so much more than those with neurotypical, or able bodied children can ever possibly imagine, or could ever hope to experience.  The work we put in, the exhaustion we get back, the tantrums; it's worth it.

To all of you who parent, aunt, sister, grandparent, whether biologically or not - happy day.  May you never give up, may you never be discouraged, and if you ever are, may a look at your small person, whatever their age or size, help you to keep going.