Month: November 2010

Wretches & Jabberers

Melissa

I may be hopelessly behind the times but have you heard of this movie?

In Wretches & Jabberers: And Stories from the Road, two men with autism embark on a global quest to change attitudes about disability and intelligence. Determined to put a new face on autism, Tracy Thresher, 42, and Larry Bissonnette, 52, travel to Sri Lanka, Japan and Finland. At each stop, they dissect public attitudes about autism and issue a hopeful challenge to reconsider competency and the future.

Growing up, Thresher and Bissonnette were presumed “retarded” and excluded from normal schooling. With limited speech, they both faced lives of social isolation in mental institutions or adult disability centers. When they learned as adults to communicate by typing, their lives changed dramatically. Their world tour message is that the same possibility exists for others like themselves.

Between moving and transformative encounters with young men and women with autism, parents and students, Thresher and Bissonnette take time to explore local sights and culture; dipping and dodging through Sri Lankan traffic in motorized tuk-tuks, discussing the purpose of life with a Buddhist monk and finally relaxing in a traditional Finnish sauna. Along the way, they reunite with old friends, expand the isolated world of a talented young painter and make new allies in their cause.

From beginning to end, Thresher and Bissonnette inspire parents and young men and women with autism with a poignant narrative of personal struggle that always rings with intelligence, humor, hope and courage.

Check out the website: Wretches & Jabberers

And the trailer:

Duhdee’s nose is a bit out of joint.

Melissa

Some friends and I are planning a weekend retreat and there are “NO BOYS ALLOWED!” I’m terribly excited, I’ve not had a mommy’s weekend ever. Duhdee has taken a few weekends over the years to go snowmobiling with the guys but I’ve just never felt the urge to do the same.

In a matter of a few days my thinking has been transformed from “I just don’t see the point.” to “OMG, I WILL GO ANYWHERE YOU WANT TO GO! EVEN CANADA!” This change may have had a little something to do with the approximately one gallon of mostly digested chicken nuggets I found myself cleaning up the other night or perhaps the puddle of still warm pee I stepped in right in front of the toilet. Perhaps.

I knew Duhdee was going to be jealous because the other Moms who are going are some of the most amazing people on the planet ((And I’m not just saying that because I need this weekend away, lol.)) but I didn’t realize he was going to be this jealous. This morning while I was getting dressed, he was encouraging Monkey’s latest phrase du jour…

“Get OUT!” my little Monkey-man roared. I might have been offended if he’d been able to say it without laughing or if, you know, the whole point wasn’t my getting OUT for a few days.

Why I’ll never be a good enough parent.

Melissa

My friend Holly commented recently that she’s noticed that it’s the wrong parents who are questioning their parenting skills. That got me thinking…

I’ll never be a good enough parent and I’ll sure as hell never be a great one and I don’t want to be. It’s this feeling of having to try 10 times as hard just to barely keep up that motivates me to do the things I do with Monkey. It’s what keeps me searching for new ways to help him, for new ways to make his life better, for new ways to make him more like the other kids.

If I were a good parent or, dog forbid, a great one, I could coast. I could sit here at my keyboard and drone on and on about all the amazing things I do. I could sit here and type endlessly about all the amazing things Monkey does and just ignore all the strange or annoying things he does that make him stand out as being not quite right…things that make him not quite fit in. I don’t want that…ever.

I’ve said before that we’re big picture people. We want Monkey to have it all, not just right now when he’s 6 and we can control what that means to a large extent. We want him to have it all when he’s 16, when he’s 26, when he’s 66. I don’t just want him to not be picked on, I want him to be a part of life.

I’m going to assume that each and everyone of you knew someone with a disability when you were growing up.  I’m also going to assume that you said nice things to this person in the halls, that you never picked on them or laughed at them or left them out of activities, OK? Now, can you tell me where that person is right now? Where they live? If anyone ever invites them to a movie or to just hang out?  What about one of your non-disabled friends from when you were growing up?  Right.

Until we get to the point when Monkey is 20-something, in college or living on his own and still hanging with his peeps on occasion (because, really, the boy had better be working hard at whatever he’s doing, it’s not all play-time my friends!) I’ll never consider myself to have done a good enough job. If beating myself up and constantly feeling like I should have done more or done things differently is what it will take, then that’s OK.

I can take it and the pay-off will be monumental.