Aspergers = skint

This Aspergers is an expensive business.
Not only do we have gadgets galore - iPod, iPad, iPhones, PC, laptops, DVD player, blu-ray player, xtreamer, humax, two embarrassingly big TVs (one of them 3D), stereo surround, a base bin, two stereos and a DAB radio, Ethan's Aspergers also seems to require that he has not one, but two, sheds and a completely soundproofed house. This latest necessity is meaning we have to tear down two perfectly satisfactory, decorated walls and pull up one fairly new carpet to insert insulation panels and rubber matting. All because we sometimes hear the neighbours talking. And Ethan can't watch TV loudly in the evening because Ava is asleep above him.
I've given up arguing about it all. The arguments are fiery and defensive and exhausting and never end in a peaceful resolution. And, I suppose, he doesn't spend very much at all on the every-day things that other blokes might fritter away money on - like beer, clothes, nights out, sport, football matches...I guess half my problem is that I'd rather he spent money on those sociable, 'healthy' pastimes rather than on trying to keep the world out. Or bringing his own passive world in.
The other half of my problem is that I want a log-burner and he keeps spending all our fliipin' money!
We should have taken out Aspergers insurance years ago!

Aspergers before breakfast

I wake Ethan up, having slept in longer than me, with a cup of tea.
He comes downstairs a while later having got himself up and dressed. I've got all three kids up and dressed, made pancakes for their breakfast, got Sam's football bag ready and swept the trail of sand off the floor that Sam's toy snake with a hole in has left.
Ethan is on the football run this morning and, thoughtfully, has offered to take all the kids to give me some time to catch up with stuff at home. Ava asks Ethan if she can take her bike. Ethan says no, it's too much hassle and he hasn't got time to get it out of the bike shed. I get the bike, rearrange the car and squeeze it in.
Ethan sees the free Sun newspaper on the kitchen side. Becomes the most animated he's been all morning telling me that they're going to be charged £1,000,000 because they've broken a publishing law by not putting their name and address on the paper. He becomes decidedly perky and enthused at the thought of The Sun's misfortune and them being 'caught out'.
When the kids are finally all in the car and the doors are closed, I hear Ethan blasting Sam at 1,000 decibels for lying about touching the car radio. He's six-years-old. And maybe he wouldn't lie if he didn't think Ethan was going to fly into a rage over every little thing.
I dash back into the house to grab a ball for Oliver to play with whilst Sam's at his football club. Tell Ethan to hang on a moment. Come back with the ball. Ethan's left.
Why is it that the traits of Aspergers are so, well, unpleasant? Or is that just Ethan?

Happy anniversary to my Aspergers husband

The message in my anniversary card to Ethan:

Dear Ethan,
Our relationship has been, is and will be to come, hard work. Requiring lots of understanding, compromising and forgiveness. As our very different personalities, outlooks, minds and backgrounds rub together - sometimes causing friction, we are moulding and shaping each other and hopefully moving closer, together, to the people, and couple, that we are meant to be.
We have issues, we have different ways of looking at things, we niggle and argue quite a lot. But what we also have is commitment - to each other and to our family, a belief in each other, a deep-rooted (sometimes too deep to see or feel!) love for each other that has been carved out through the years, three wonderful kids, and lots of prayer! And so we'll keep on muddling through - trying to bring out the best in each other and to be the best we can be for each other, knowing that, in every relationship there are issues, hurdles and challenges to overcome. And we will, if not overcome them all, then learn to adapt to them. Knowing that we're better together than we are apart: secure in the knowledge that, whatever's thrown at us, we'll do life together.
Thanks for the journey. Laura x

Ethan's response: "Thanks for the card. It was very [pause] interesting. Very, erm, long. Lots of writing."

<deep breath. Embrace the differences!>

Holidays - tinged with Aspergers

We’re back – in one piece. If not mentally then at least physically!

I’d forgotten /blotted out from my memory how difficult family holidays can be with an Aspergic partner and parent.

In some ways, Ethan was the perfect companion – he did all the driving in France, programmed the sat nav so we never got lost, put together an itinerary in a shiny red ring-binder and organised the passports, insurance and euros. However, as a holiday companion to have fun with, relax with, socialise with he was, well, rather lacking.

This holiday was peppered with the frustrations, arguments, disappointments and exasperation that I should have known would be inevitable. We were living in close proximity (a tent) with three young children for ten days. It was like being at home – and then some!

Things that should have been fun and relationship-building (Ethan having a game of pool with Sam and Oliver) turned into heated arguments and sullen moods (Ethan got moody and detached when six-year-old Sam and four-year-old Oliver didn’t show enough enthusiasm for learning the proper rules and techniques of pool and wanted to do what all little boys want to do and whack the balls their own haphazard way – Ethan refused to play anymore). He bubbled over angrily with me as we were surrounded by happy, relaxed holiday-makers because I’d inadvertently turned my phone’s cellular access on and cost us – wait for it...£1.60. It wasn’t the expense that bothered him so much as the fact he’d told me not to turn it on. I’d broken his rule.  It was too much. I’d reached saturation point. I swore at him and stomped off angrily. I was conscious that nine-year-old Ava was at the site’s pool party and was due to get out in the next ten minutes and needed at least one of us around. ‘But sod it,’ I thought, ‘he can take responsibility for once.’ It did cross my mind, briefly, that he might overlook the fact Ava would be getting out of the pool any minute, but I pushed the thought away – no, we’d been at the bar right next to the pool before I stomped off, he’d watched Ava play in the pool through the railings, we’d talked about the fact the party finished at 9.30pm. I carried on stomping and fantasised about divorce.

By 9.40pm I was calmer. I was starting to come around to the idea of working things out rather than throwing things (him) out. As I turned the corner though, I spotted Ethan, without Ava, casually taking photos of the river. The fury rose up in me like lava. I ran past him, reminding him of how useless and selfish he was as I went, and found Ava five minutes later cold, shivering and crying as she wandered around the campsite in her swimming costume in the dark wondering where her parents were.

Every emotion in me towards Ethan was negative at that moment: anger, disappointment, frustration, hurt, loneliness, despair...but, as I wrote this entry, we were travelling home together. A family, if not in harmony, at least intact. I think that’s probably the best we can hope for.

The rest of the holiday, like life, was mixed. There were some lovely times – like Ethan playing frisbee and catch with the boys outside the tent; A family game of football; A sociable day out at a theme park with a couple of other families. There were also some other really difficult moments when Ethan became stressed and overwhelmed or zoned out. There was an awful moment when he ran over Ava’s foot with a hand-pushed rollercoaster cart and, when she started screaming about her foot, told her ‘I don’t care’. The result was her screaming louder that she didn’t like him, how he was selfish and horrible – all in front of the other families we were with. A few minutes later when things were calming down, Ethan came over to ‘apologise’ to Ava except that his apology was ‘Why aren’t you wearing some decent shoes?’ Needless to say,  another eruption (from me) followed.

Overall though, I think something shifted in me during the holiday. I realised – really realised - that, most of the time, he really doesn’t mean to sound the way he does, react the way he does or say what he does. That he spent most of the holiday feeling stressed, overwhelmed, over-stimulated, confused, tired and trapped. No chance of escape, not chance of downtime, not much sleep, none of the usual coping mechanisms of the computer/Iphone/TV and the relentlessness of people all around him every second of the day and night and the expectation on him to play the part of happy, sociable, fun father and husband. He just couldn’t do it. It did make me wonder whether holidays should exist specifically for families with an Aspergers parent in the mix. Everyone would know the score, there’d be more grace extended (in my imaginings) and space made for the Aspergers partner to have time alone – or maybe plugged into a technology booth onsite – while events were organised for the rest of the family. There’d be support from families for each other, and no one would stare or judge when arguments erupted. Maybe there’s an opening there...

No use crying over spilt paint...or an Aspergers husband!

I've discovered that it's impossible for me to off-load light-heartedly with Ethan about the kids, situations - or anything really.

What evolves, with other people, into good-natured but exasperated exchanges of frustration, with Ethan becomes unsatisfying at best, negative and dark at worst. When I vent humorously with Ethan about the kids, he completely misses the humour bit. He sees it as me dumping negative emotion and experiences onto him, causing him to glare at me or walk away. Or he sees it as a requirement from me for him to resolve the issue and starts proposing very practical solutions. Never does he give the reaction I want and need which is to say, with a resigned but affectionate smile, 'Oh no, what a nightmare...how much is boarding school again?!' and give me a hug.

Maybe I'm expecting too much. Maybe other dads/husbands, even without Aspergers, also wouldn't banter jovially about the annoying behaviour of their kids. But other couples do seem to laugh, or at least have lighter moments, much more than we do.

Today, with the help of a little friend, the boys managed to spill an entire tub of white emulsion onto Sam's bedroom carpet. I spent an hour mopping up the worst of it before Ethan got home - surprised at the strength in my own arm muscles! What I'd like to say happened when Ethan came home to see a whitish coloured wet patch on Sam's carpet is for him to comment on the nice range of rugs they do in IKEA...that isn't the reaction I got. Rather, it involved lots of sighing, complaining, blame and gloomy predictions about how the carpet would go crusty when the wet patch dried. The only person he didn't blame was himself - for not removing the paint tin from Sam's room after he'd finished painting the windowsill - five months ago!

Off on holiday on Saturday - for two weeks. Bliss, I hope. Even with three exasperating kids and a humourless Aspie in tow!

Catch up when I'm back. 

The tricky co-existence of Apergers and children

We were treated to a delightful greeting from Ethan as he arrived home from the early shift at work today: 'What's going on?' he enquired in a slightly irritated manner as he walked through the door to find us all home. He was referring to the fact that we weren't at church as we 'should' have been - it being Sunday morning. 'I decided to give church a miss,' I replied airily - too much going on today, and we're all a bit tired...Have we messed up your plans to come home to a nice quiet house?!' This last bit said in jolly jest.

'Yeah, you have.' came the surly reply - his tone was far from jovial and he avoided eye contact with me. Sometimes, the aura Ethan gives off makes me feel that I and the kids irritate him simply by existing. Not conducive to happy family relations.

Speaking of which, the kids seem to annoy Ethan more and more - simply by being kids. The noise, chaos, mess and lack of control over them seem an almost impossible combination for an Aspergic, middle-aged man to handle.

A few nights ago, Sam didn't come the first time Ethan called him. A minute later, I came across Ethan pinning Sam down on the bed and, in a frighteningly angry, venomous whisper, spitting out the words 'If you ever ignore me again, you're going to be in really, really serious trouble.' Is it just me or is that a bit over-kill for a 6-year-old child who didn't jump instantly into obedient action at Ethan's command?

A couple of days later, Sam (again - poor thing, he seems to be on the receiving end of Ethan's short fuse quite a lot - probably because he's the most like Ethan - I think he may well be showing some signs of Aspergers himself). Anyway, Sam plonked himself down a little too exuberantly on Ethan's feet during a maypole dance at a fete. Ethan, instantly angry at having his personal space invaded, took the opportunity of giving Sam a slight kick up the bum as he slid his feet out from under him - making Sam whimper, and making me blow my top: in front of the gathered throng of happy maypole dance admirers.

He just can't cope with the kids being kids. He doesn't like being interrupted, noise and mess stress him out, he gets irritated when his body space is invaded and he really, really can't handle not being in control of them and what they do or how quickly they do it.

As teenage-dom approaches with our eldest, I feel the conflicts between Ethan and the kids, and between Ethan and I over the kids, are just going to intensify. Either that, or he'll just retreat completely from having  anything to do with them. I'm not sure what would be worse.

As a complete aside, I do so appreciate your comments and feedback. It's so nice to know there are lots of us all going through similar things. And I'm really sorry that I'm only able to post replies sporadically. Whilst I'm apologising, I'm sorry too that the blog itself is pretty uninspiring to look at. I just have so little time between work, the kids, Ethan and life in general to do anything more than write a few disjointed thoughts once a week.

Oliver starts school in September (woopee) and I'm hoping that one of the things I'll do with my extra time is become a more gripping, attentive blogger! Until then - thanks for sticking with me!

Aspergers and dinner-party tactics

Had a dinner party this weekend.

It went pretty well - thanks, in no small part, to our tactical planning.

Ethan could, quite acceptably, absorb himself in the cooking and so be excused from making small-talk for the first twenty minutes at least, of the evening. By the time he did sit down and join the conversation, people were already well into the flow and unlikely to notice the odd awkward comment or lack of comprehension on his part.

Ethan, actually, was amazing. Gone are the days, mostly, when I worry about how he's going to behave in public and whether I'll face complete embarrassment at being linked to him. Ethan can play the role of interested social partaker pretty well these days - particularly if he knows it's coming and he can mentally prepare for it.

We all chatted animatedly, occasionally in twos and threes but mainly in one big group, the whole night. Ethan interjected, laughed in the right places, contributed to conversation and remained focused throughout: proof, if ever there was any, that social interaction can be learnt by a high-functioning person with Aspergers. As an added bonus, he even enjoyed himself!

The only blip came at 11.45pm when the music abruptly ended and Ethan started yawning - big, obvious yawns (thankfully he stopped short of loading the dishwasher and putting on his pyjamas!) For someone who isn't meant to understand social cues, he did a pretty good job of giving off a few of his own!

Thankfully everyone was drunk enough by then not to pick up on it and carried on chatting for another half an hour - much to Ethan's consternation!

Overall, a great night. I am beginning to feel that Ethan and I can get away as seeming a fairly normal couple (when Ethan tries hard) within an ever-increasing social circle. It's been a long and, at times, painful road to get here. We've had many other excruciating social occasions, particularly when we first got married: when Ethan was clueless and had to learn everything from scratch and I was a bewildered young bride in shock at the irritable, unsociable, rude individual I'd just promised to spend my life with!

In some ways it would have been easier to accept the way things were and live my own life while he stayed in and watched other people's lives on the telly. And there is a certain amount of that that goes on in our relationship. But, as the norm, that's not what either of us signed up for when we promised to share our lives with each other.

So we pushed through, and still are doing - learning as we go. Accepting what we can't change but together, committing to change the things we can...there's a quote in there somewhere!