The Scene: Pizzeria Uno’s Restaurant
The Date: October 7th, 2010
The Occasion: Our Anniversary
The Players: The Whole Family
Our main character had a great plan for that night, or so she thought. The whole family out to celebrate. She had forgotten that it was a Thursday night and the kids were usually physically and emotionally spent after the long week of school. She neglected to notice that they wouldn’t be eating until almost 6pm, about 45 minutes later than they usually do. And she had forgotten, maybe on purpose, that one of her kids has autism spectrum disorder. She just wanted a nice dinner out with her family for her anniversary, dammit. Just this one time.
I sent Tim an e-mail around 4:30pm asking if he wanted to meet us out for dinner for our anniversary. Seemed like a pretty good plan at the time. It had finally stopped raining, Gerry didn’t have any homework, and Lewis had taken a pretty good nap. Plus, I had to go out anyway to get some special cupcakes for Howie to bring in to school so he could eat a treat along with the other kids celebrating birthdays. We agreed to meet at the restaurant at 5:30pm.
My first mistake happened before we even left the house. Howie had asked me for some juice as I was packing up our toys/cars/coloring books/yogurts/juice boxes for dinner. I ignored it, thinking I’d remember to bring his juice cup in the car with me. I didn’t. His juice cup is his comfort – when he’s feeling out of sorts or not feeling great, he asks for juice. He asked three times. I missed it, and told him in the car that he’d have to wait until we got to Uno’s.
Tim was running late from work, so I brought the boys into the restaurant myself. We used to go to Uno’s a few times a month, until it starting getting too expensive once all five of us were each ordering our own meals. In the past, we’ve sat on one side of the restaurant – the side where the windows face the parking lot where we park. This time, the host brought us to another side – a side where the walls were too high for Howie to see out of from his seat. Cue meltdown number one…
With Lewis in one arm, my bag of food and tricks slung over the other arm, I dragged Howie screaming across the restaurant to our booth. Wailing “BUT I WANT TO SIT OVER THERE!!”, I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the bench seat of the booth, while the host took about an hour to get me a highchair for Lewis. Gerry slunk into the corner of the other bench. Lewis threw the crayons onto the floor. Howie continued with “Mama! Mama! Mamaaaaaa!” – his cry when he can’t formulate the words to tell me what is wrong.
(Now I know at this moment I could have stopped this. Well, I know it now. I could have asked the host to move us. I could have calmly tried to understand from Howie what the problem was. And had I known that things were going to continue to spiral downhill from here, I probably would have said something. But instead I dug in my heels. And I turned around and yelled at Howie to stop or else he would be waiting for us all in the car with Dad. You know, whenever Dad got there.)
The world’s most indifferent waitress came over to take our drink order, and I told her we were actually ready to order our food. Tim had already given me his pizza-no-cheese order, Gerry and Lewis always get the same thing, and I had brought Howie’s yogurt to have with french fries. I was trying to order all this while Howie was trying to climb into my lap…check that, climb into my skin…still screaming “Mama! Mama! Mama!”. The waitress looked annoyed to have to be listening to me through all of that. Imagine trying to talk through it.
The waitress quickly ran away to process our order, I got Lewis drawing circles on the kids’ menu, and I was finally able to turn my attention to Howie. “What IS it???” I asked him, much more loudly than I wanted to.
“I don’t want to sit HERE!”, he shouted. “I don’t like the fans and the red light on the seat!!”
I looked up. Above our heads were several circular fans, including one very old one up near the ceiling. They were off, but for some reason were still bothering Howie. And on top of each of the posts near our booth were two red lights. Completely innocuous to the untrained eye. Totally overwhelming to the kid already on sensory overload.
“I want to sit where there are yellow lights! Not the red ones!!”
Thankfully Tim arrived at this moment. He took Howie away from the table to look at the giant fans to see how they worked. I walked around the restaurant with him to show him that none of the tables had yellow lights, and that if we sat at a certain angle, we couldn’t see them anymore.
We sat back down at our table and Howie climbed into my lap. He turned around and gave me one of his hugs – the ones that tell me he’s trying so hard to calm his body down and feel better. The hugs that dig deep into the skin on my neck and tear at my soul. While he’s hugging me, he whispers into my ear:
“Why is everything in my life so difficult?”
At this point, our main character’s eyes filled up with tears. “I don’t know, sweetie.”, she says. “I just don’t know.”
————————————————————————————————————————————————–
“‘Lady Peaceful,’ ‘Lady Happy,’
That’s what I long to be
All the odds are in my favor
Something’s bound to begin
It’s got to happen, happen sometime
Maybe this time I’ll win” – Maybe This Time from Cabaret
October 11, 2010 at 5:08 pm
You make me cry everytime. Your writing is amazing-I hope you know this and I hope you know how amazing you are. I so know the feeling of wanting to go out and have a normal time, with no problems, just dinner nothing else. And when I do this, I always miss the cues too. Joe and I just went away for a night by ourselves and I actually did feel normal and relaxed. If at all possible you and Tim should do this too-or just go to dinner yourselves. It is so worth it.
October 11, 2010 at 5:26 pm
Bah. So sorry. We’ve been through that more times than I’d like to recall. The worst thing about a restaurant is that everything you’d normally be cool with at home is now not okay. On TOP of the stuff that’s not okay at home. And I always felt like I was running a race that couldn’t get over fast enough. Well, you definitely captured the feeling perfectly. I don’t think anything breaks your heart more than when you’re having the absolute worst time, and then your child somehow opens up that door to let you know exactly what he’s feeling. They have an uncanny way of doing that.
Better next time, right?:)
October 11, 2010 at 5:35 pm
First, Happy Anniversary! Second, congratulations for trying… again and again. Third, it will get better… just when you least expect it!
Love and peace to you… and wishing you all calm hearts. xoxoxo
October 11, 2010 at 5:41 pm
Wow. That’ll rip your heart out. {{{hugs}}}
Good for you for trying again. And you know what? Good for Howie for being able to verbalize the question. That’s ENORMOUS! Sorry it was such a tough night.
Maybe next time. 😉
October 11, 2010 at 5:42 pm
Oh man, that last bit really tugged at my heart. I’ve had this same sort of experience with the Roc, but he has never verbalized that kind of sentiment, though I know he must feel it. It will go better next time!
October 11, 2010 at 5:56 pm
Happy Anniversary–
I know how emotionally exhausting this was for you… but you ALL MADE it thru(the rain) (cue Barry Manilow).. and you re-learned that lessson of being prepared is really the key to sanity!
IT WILL GO BETTER NEXT TIME! 🙂
October 11, 2010 at 7:39 pm
Thanks for all the anniversary wishes! The truth is, this was all about expectations. We’ve done fine in restaurants before – including this one. This was truly about me missing all the cues, both leading up to leaving and at the restaurant, and about me wanting this to be special because of the date. Had I not done all that, things probably would have been fine (or our version of fine 🙂 )
Once again, of course, you have all reminded me of the bright side, which you all do so well. The fact that he was able to express himself is huge. HUGE. And should not be lost on me. Thank you.
October 11, 2010 at 7:46 pm
I commend you for your fortitude to keep trying. My 10 year old (he is on the spectrum, but high functioning) asked me last week to try and make his life easier. We had many episodes like yours in restaurants/stores through the years, and they all seem to pass. It doesn’t seem like you will ever see the light at the end of the tunnel–but there is one–and you will see it if you keep your eyes open.
October 11, 2010 at 7:49 pm
what can I say? teary am I…wish I could have been there to help
October 11, 2010 at 8:12 pm
Wow…that just made me all teary-eyed! I know that feeling.
You know what I find amazing, though? That he recognizes everything is difficult and comes to you for comfort about it. That really is wonderful.
I hate restaurants…we’ve just given up, but I know we shouldn’t. Good for you for giving it a try!
October 11, 2010 at 8:52 pm
I was humming the song as soon as I read the title. How weird we both write about going out for dinner today. Sorry it went the way it did, especially on your anniversary. I’ve done the same thing, ignored all the signs that it was a bad idea because it was a special occasion or we were meeting people.
I’m with everyone else on how amazing it is that Howie can verbalize his distress. We’re still playing clueless detectives when something is obviously wrong. I think you’re going to get there, maybe another time. Looking forward to reading about that!
October 11, 2010 at 8:58 pm
Awww! Sorry it was a tough dinner. It’s hard to pickup the kid’s cues all the time. Even with kids not on the spectrum, we plan dinners out carefully. Must be at the restaurant early (5ish) so we don’t have to wait and we always order the kids meals with the drinks. And sometimes kids just fall apart. We can’t expect them to be adults, though at times they are so wise and mature. Don’t give up on dinners out. 🙂
October 11, 2010 at 9:29 pm
I was picturing the entire scene except at my favorite Mexican restaurant. Yep, it’s happened to me. I so feel your pain on this one. I’m glad that Howie was able get some help from you and dad to try to calm himself. It always breaks my heart when my son asks me why he can’t make himself stop crying. It’s hard to be so very defenseless.
On a brighter note, happy anniversary!
October 11, 2010 at 10:17 pm
Happy anniversary! Experiences like that make me want to swear off going out ever again. Now if only I could quit loving restaurants so much. 🙂
October 12, 2010 at 8:32 am
Cut yourself some slack. Re-imagine the event such that you intended to stretch Howie’s ability to wait and have more insight into himself. Your plan worked.
Do you think Howie will be up to a response other than sympathy for his difficult life next time? “We all have difficulties in our lives, Son. I promise to help you learn to manage yours.” He already knows you will help him – otherwise he would not have persisted in his requests, to you. His cries are evidence he has learned to trust you – you are perfectly positioned to help bridge him to trust himself, and eventually the world.
Good job, Mom!
October 12, 2010 at 1:35 pm
I don’t think we could stop eating in restaurants. We would starve 🙂
Barbara – it’s a good idea, but I don’t think Howie’s there yet. At age 4, it’s still all about him (plus the empathy piece is really missing with him). I’m still trying to get my 8 yr old to understand that life is difficult. Speaking of that, I’m beginning to think that Howie’s “why is life so difficult” expression was more of a repetition of something he’s heard his brother say, and not a spontaneous expression of his own. He did use it right, though, so I’ll give him credit for that.
October 13, 2010 at 10:40 am
That wasn’t so much a recommendation as an attempt to change mindset from “look at how I failed” to something else. I gotta quit trying that kind of thing. I agree with you, he might not know the true meaning of his question. I think children ask “why” way before they know what they are asking and are ready for the answer.
October 12, 2010 at 1:42 pm
awwww,I LOVE your writings. This one hit straight to the heart. It made me cry. I heard from Blake this week, why am I a bad boy and it wripped my heart out. Happy Anniversary to you.
October 12, 2010 at 3:08 pm
Happy Anniversary! You are such an amazing writer, you made me cry with this post! I felt like I was right there with you. We have had similar experiences when we have gone out to dinner.
October 12, 2010 at 5:04 pm
*sniff* Happy anniversary. And happy self-expression by your son. I think we’ve all been in those shoes many times. Sounds like you all did ok, in spite of some obstacle. Kudos.
October 12, 2010 at 11:38 pm
I’m sorry your anniversary dinner didn’t go off without a hitch…this time. Next year is another year away…maybe you’ll meet an awesome sitter in the meantime. 🙂
Happy Anniversary!
October 13, 2010 at 10:07 am
You know the minute I read your post title (it’s on my sidebar so I see it every time) I’ve been humming that tune. We like the same music you and I… I really do enjoy your musical references 😉
What a tough visit. But you know something… stick with it. Go as often as you can. PERSEVERE. That’s what we did. For years. Now I know it’s easier for us with only one child but he was a bolter. And he used to hide under the table when our food came down as he’s extremely sensitive to food smells! It took at least 2 years for him to actually eat anything when we were out!
And, I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but make it as easy for yourselves as you can. Phone ahead, explain re: Autism and ask for the seating area that suits you best. It’s NOT giving in it’s accommodating your children’s needs and makes eating out a pleasant experience for all. Your family is entitled to that too 😉
Before you know it the restaurant will know your needs so well you’ll be spoilt rotten. And your kids will love it!!
xx Jazzy
October 13, 2010 at 5:52 pm
You just read a page from my life. You have a gift for describing a situation. I know all about those hugs you are talking about, my son grabs me like he wants to break me.
Sorry you didn’t get an adult only anniversary.
October 14, 2010 at 7:16 am
That brought tears to my eyes, too. Hi from the Special Needs Blog Hop.
October 14, 2010 at 9:15 am
Happy Anniversary. Gotta love the moments of hugs though. Thanks for joining in the Special Needs Blog Hop. I am now following your blog.
October 14, 2010 at 9:48 am
Stopping by from the Special Needs Blog Hop. You are very honest about missing the cues but OMG you certainly did not miss the message your son gave you -what a gift! That was a wonderful bonding moment despite the circumstances that led up to it. A happy anniversary present from your son. May your next anniversary be just as special but a bit more relaxing. : )
October 14, 2010 at 11:24 am
Awwww…that made me tear up. Poor little guy. It just shows how on the ball you usually are and how being even slightly less vigilant can put everything off.
Visiting from the Special Needs Blog Hop!
October 14, 2010 at 11:29 am
Oh, my eyes filled with tears, too as I read this, thinking: How many times have I been just a little too busy or tired or distracted to read the signals that would let me play the cards right, and allow us to have a lovely, peaceful, enjoyable family event instead of a melty, teeth gritty, “just get through it” one.
It’s not fair that we have to be superwoman, just to make things be halfway OK. sigh.
And Happy Anniversary, too.
October 14, 2010 at 1:26 pm
wow – thank you all and thanks to everyone reading from the Special Needs Blog Hop! One of the gifts that this blog has given to me is the knowledge that so many of us have had these same experiences, survived to tell the tale, and try them all over again. Thank you for your wisdom, encouragement, strength and anniversary wishes.
Alysia
October 15, 2010 at 8:02 pm
As soon you wrote ‘because Gerry and I don’t have time for just us’, a humongous light bulb lit up over my head. I hope it didn’t blind you. lol I remember going through this with my guys. When I realized my ‘quiet, passive’ child was being left out because my youngest was sucking my time, it was a good. I’m so happy you found time for your oldest! You sound like a good attentive mom. I’m sure you know this, it’s still nice to hear it from other people, I know. LOL
~Jen B from the blog hop 🙂
April 26, 2011 at 6:23 pm
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