Hate the Autism, Love the Boy

In case any of you were wondering...I HATE autism!!

I've had many people ask me if Jacob has a special gift. They've seen Rain Man and imagine in their minds that Jacob has some miraculous power where he can count ridiculously or have a unwavering memory. Or, maybe he is obsessed with science or words. It's nice to think about Jacob having a super human ability. I think it would make the autism seem less invasive and more interesting. That is not how Jacob is. Unless he's hiding his superman powers away in his little body, I have seen nothing similar to rain man, except for the constantly repeating himself.

I hate that I sit up at night just waiting on him to fall asleep and then I wake up to him barreling in our room bouncing from one foot to the other yelling "Can you go downstairs with me, can you go downstairs with me, can you go downstairs with me?" I hate waking up this way. I hate waking up at 5:30 to get him ready for school only to find that he's hidden his shoes...AGAIN!!!! You would think that an 8 year old little boy wouldn't be able to hide two, size 4, bright neon green shoes. I hate that my first thought is to check the bushes. I mean, who else thinks to check the bushes for their kids shoes!! I hate that I spend 30 minutes asking him where his shoes are, only to hear him say "I know" but in reality he doesn't really know and he can't tell me anyway.

I hate how we fight about medicine every morning and every night. I hate that he even has to take medicine. I hate that I can only think of two things to pack for him for lunch because he's just so doggone picky. I hate myself for being excited when the school bus gets here. I hate that when he gets home he can't tell me about his day. I hate that I can't go anywhere and just walk straight in like normal people do. I hate that I have to chase Jacob out of the bushes. I hate that I have to threaten to hold his hand if he doesn't walk with me. I hate that he doesn't listen. I hate that the typical discipline techniques don't work with him. I hate that other people think I should just be more firm with typical discipline techniques.

I hate that all he wants to talk about is doll houses. I also hate that he obsesses about things, because if he obsesses, we must all obsess with him. Right now, it's doll houses. I hate that you have a weird look on your face while you are reading this because my almost 9 year old boy loves doll houses. I hate that we can't go into Hobby Lobby without spending a great amount of time begging for doll houses and doll house furniture.I hate that I have to buy him something small so that I can get out of Hobby Lobby with at least a little dignity left. I hate that when he is at home all he wants to do is sit at the computer on google and look at doll houses, and make me look at doll houses. I hate that he makes me talk about doll houses. I hate that I've typed the words doll houses this much.

 I hate when he asks a question and he doesn't give me enough time to answer, much less think about my answer before he's asking the same question again, louder than the time before. I hate that I'm constantly telling him to match my voice. I hate that I'm constantly telling him to speak nicely. I hate that he laughs when he disobeys and then asks if I think it's funny. I hate that he still poops in his pants sometimes. I hate that it happens when we have guests over. I hate feeling that they are disgusted with him. I hate that, often times, I find him running around in the front yard with nothing but a smile on. I hate that he doesn't understand that it's not appropriate.

 I hate that we fight over food at every. single. meal! I hate that I still hand feed him sometimes. I hate having to bathe my almost 9 year old son. I hate that he screams when you wash his hair. I hate that he bites the toothbrush when I brush his teeth and that he contorts his mouth, on purpose, so that I can't brush his teeth properly. I hate that I used to have to sit on him to brush his teeth. I hate that getting pajamas on is a struggle every night. I hate how when I'm singing to him at night he interrupts me to ask if he can sing, then he doesn't sing. Then he interrupts me again to ask if he can sing, and then he doesn't sing. Then he interrupts me again to ask if he can sing, and then he doesn't sing. Then he cries when the song is over because he didn't get to sing.

 I hate that I sit awake at night just waiting for him to fall asleep. I hate that while I'm sitting awake at night that I think about how I hate that every day is a struggle. I hate that I miss out on a special relationship with him because of his autism. I hate that I hate his autism. I hate the person that it makes me. I hate that I feel guilty constantly. I hate that autism is messy, dirty and hard. I hate that we can't be a normal family in normal situations for any amount of time. I hate that we don't fit in anywhere, except for special needs events. I hate his autism, but I love him dearly. I hate that I love him so much it hurts all time. I would give everything to find a cure for him. I would give everything to have a normal relationship with him. I would give everything to see him unhindered by this ugly, messy, dirty thing called autism.

I also hate that this reads like the ending of the movie "Ten Things I Hate About You," but that's beside the point.