Chapter Thirty-Seven: Asperger’s and Being a Mum

Q:		Is it difficult having Asperger’s Syndrome and being a mother? Do you feel you’re adequate/good as a parent?
A:		Ah, yes. The parenting question. I’d been expecting that one!

The question of whether I, as an Aspie, could be an adequate parent rather shocks me and scares me at the same time. It brings to my mind fearful concepts like eugenics or someone proposing the removal of children from disabled parents to give them a “proper” upbringing, not unlike some scary times in history, such as the lost generation of Aborigines in Australia. Fortunately, I don’t live in a world where any of that is likely to happen, but it is an awful thought nonetheless.

I know that, as a parent, I’ve always been incredibly loving, and anybody who sees me with my children would agree. The emotions I hold for my boys are so strong, they overwhelm me at times, and if anything, it makes me a more protective and thoughtful parent than most, always analyzing what is best for my children’s long-term well-being.

As a person, I’m warm and kind and tend to be good at bonding with children, as unexpected as that may seem. In fact, I hear that it’s not uncommon for Aspies to be intuitively good with children and/or animals, at least for those of us who take an interest! I think it’s because we don’t hide behind pretend enthusiasm and vocal inflection. When we feel affection, we show it openly in our physical language, even without specifically meaning to, and this transparency makes kids and pets feel safe around us.

When working in the childcare scene some years back, I had colleagues comment that I was quick to win over insecure children and especially popular with those who needed that little extra attention or calming. I know it sounds odd, given my natural difficulties with social interactions, but children aren’t difficult to read the way adults can be.

As a parent myself, I’ve been fortunate to find myself able to understand my oldest son—who has some rather strong Aspie traits of his own—well, and I’m so glad that I’m the one raising him. I’m in the right position to give him the understanding and positive encouragement that he needs, and it makes me so sad to imagine how he might have fared growing up in a family that just couldn’t make sense of him the same way. He’s my darling. My angel. My sweetest little boy, and I want the world for him.

Of course, having said all that, that doesn’t mean that parenting is easy for me. Like the rest of you, I’m continually battling with that grey area that is child rearing: knowing how to respond to each situation and trying to figure out which demands are reasonable and which are not, juggling the constant needs and wants of two children always both vying for my attention at the same time, and trying not to go insane over the unbelievable tantrums they will throw over things like, “I didn’t want to wee. Put the wee back in me! PUT THE WEE BACK INNNNN!!!”

And on top of the usual, with this Aspie brain of mine, I also seem to have a few other troubles which are more unique to me individually.

For example, being on the spectrum, it’s natural for me to want to have periods where I block everything out and become absorbed in the project at hand whenever the inspiration takes me, or sometimes when I just need a break to calm down from being overstimulated or overanxious. I’m wired to want to intensely focus on a subject and just live there for a while, so interruptions can become intolerable at those times. However, with a two-year-old around, life is a barrage of interruptions!

Early on, I noticed my tendency to become crabby at the times when I used to try and focus on “my things” and my older son would come up wanting to talk to me, so I’ve had to make up rules for myself to keep my behavior in check, like no writing when Isaac is around and no editing photographs when Isaac is around. Basically, no doing anything that draws my focus too much. By following these rules, I’ve been able to keep my parenting mostly calm and positive, and I’m proud of myself for this. However, it does take a toll on me and a lot of self-control on my part. And boy, does it limit how much I can get done in a day!

Sometimes I feel frustrated about tasks niggling at me in the back of my mind. I get caught up imagining what I want to do or say when I get a chance and find myself tuning out of real life a little too easily!

However, I keep reminding myself that parenting the boys in a kind and tolerant way is critical for their self-esteem, and I want them to grow up confident and happy, which is much more important than any little task I want to do. So this frustration is something I’m just going to have to accept for the next few years until they’re old enough to both be in school. (Hooray for that day! I mean, aww, I’ll miss them.)

In the meanwhile, I do get some relief by putting Isaac in a mother’s day out program two mornings a week or hiring a lady to come and take him to the park from time to time. So this has afforded me most of the time I’ve used to get this writing done and thankfully kept me sane!

As an Aspie mum, I’ve also noticed that trying to socialize in playgroup-type settings can be pretty rough on me. If you remember, I’m not wired for multitasking, so I get a bit lost trying to watch both of the boys and interact with the adults at the same time. My focus is either on one or the other or, at best, jumping back and forth between the two, which is confusing for me. Even keeping up with “typical” adults alone can be hard enough!

Sometimes out at a park with the mums and kids and noise and light and chaos everywhere, it becomes too exhausting and I end up retreating to just following my kids around and interacting only with them. I’m sure this looks antisocial or aloof to other mums, and maybe they take it badly, but if I’ve reached this point, then it means I’m too tired or exasperated to keep trying. It’s my fallback, especially in public places where the noise and light alone is sometimes all I can deal with. I’m sure the other mums think I’m a little strange.

When my first son, Isaac, was about one, I actually had another expat mum (Angel) point this difficulty out to me. She said she noticed how distracted I get when Isaac comes up and talks to me and how I lose my place in the conversation. On the surface, it’s subtle to see, but obviously, it was visible enough for her to notice.

When she said it, it surprised me at first, because I hadn’t fully realized that other mothers don’t have the same difficulty. But observing other mums, I see now that they jump between talking to each other and directing/responding to the kids with ease. It doesn’t distract them from the discussion being had. I guess that’s an ability I just don’t have.

Building on this thought, I had an incident in the mall just recently that showed me how much I ignore other adults when I’m focusing on the boys, and it surprised me, because I wasn’t really aware of the extent to which I do that. I thought I was good at picking up signals, but I suppose to pick them up, I have to be actively looking for them.

I was sitting at the mall playground with a good friend of mine, Josh, when my baby son, Trent, crawled up and started cooing and grabbing at a lady on one of the seats. At first, she was happy to smile and talk to him, commenting to me how cute he was. I saw that Trent was getting a lot of positive attention, so I happily moved on to talking to Josh and keeping an ear out for the boys.

A minute or so later, Josh commented to me that he thought the lady had had enough of Trent now. I looked over at her and sure enough, she was facing away from him and blocking him out. Trent was still cooing and happy, so I hadn’t picked it up! I went over and picked him up to move him away. As I did, the lady smiled and said to me, “Oh, he is so cute,” in a bubbly tone. It confused me. I thought, “Oh, do you want me to give him back so he can play some more?” I wasn’t sure, so I took him with me.

When I sat back down, Josh told me that he thought, “Oh, he is so cute,” meant, “Thank you for taking him away,” and I realized that he was right. Instead of politely saying to me, “I’ve had enough now. Can you please take your baby?” the lady had used body language to signal it while saying exactly the opposite with her words.

This is frustrating to me, because if I don’t look for the signals, I can completely miss the meaning. Having a friend with me to explain things was a novelty, and it surprised me a few times to hear what he’d picked up that I hadn’t. It makes me wonder how many other communications I haven’t seen over time. Perhaps it might explain why sometimes mums go hot and cold with me for no apparent reason. If I’m not looking out for their subtle hints, then I may not understand what they want from me until they get angry. It’s no wonder I’d been finding the mums’ groups so difficult.

But, of course, none of these little issues make me in any way unsuitable as a parent, and I’m not implying that I’m not up for the job. I have my challenges, but the boys don’t suffer for them. We maintain a warm, close, loving relationship in a way that I’m starting to think is very special and rare.

I lay on the floor with Isaac, and we cuddle and play tickling games. He covers me with face washers^[45] from the kitchen cupboard and rearranges my hair. I crawl around the room after him pretending to be a crocodile, and he yells, “No, mummy, don’t be scary,” and then, “Again.” He makes an imaginary castle out of his sleeping mat, and we hide in it together. We roughhouse like boys do.

I love watching him be sweet with his little brother. He gives him toys and hugs and kisses. I hear Isaac yelling boo from the back seat of the car when I’m driving, and Trent giggles and coos from his capsule.^[46]

When I place Isaac in the care of others, I’m extra cautious to make sure of the quality of care. I’ve experienced the negative impact of bullying myself, and I’m proactive about making sure he doesn’t experience any belittling. I know Isaac has challenging behaviors—a likely Aspie himself, I think—and I get involved to make sure the teachers are redirecting him positively and not misunderstanding him. I pay close attention to how he’s responding to the school experience.

I think part of what makes me a good mum is that I don’t fall into the trap of being too focused on controlling my kids and worrying about how we appear to others. I know I can’t let them get too unruly or they’ll irritate people, but I tend to draw that line closer to the side of what is in the best interests of the boys, not based on who is frowning at me or who wants me to do it their way.

One big upside to being an Aspie is that no matter how emotional the kids make me, I can always think logically about what I’m doing and the long-term impact it’ll have on them. So I adjust my behavior accordingly and spend a lot of time thinking about my parenting techniques and how the boys are coming along.

I know some people wonder if an Aspie can be empathetic and in tune enough with a child to respond appropriately with empathy and affection, but you know, you don’t need to pick up everything to be a caring, compassionate parent. I love my boys, and they know they’re loved. I give them lots of cuddles, words of praise, and physical affection (patting, tickling, etc.). They smile and laugh with me frequently. I respond to them and comfort them when they’re unhappy. I think these are the things that really count.