It
was the school holidays and I had brought both my kids to the airport to play.
Calder liked going to the airport because of the long bus rides and the cool
air-conditioning at the airport. Hence I did not anticipate the meltdown, which
took place on our way home.
I
felt the unraveling when we were heading for the bus interchange. Calder started
pressing and twisting my arm with both of his hands. And when we got up the
bus, he slapped his bus card at people. When we sat down, he threw his bag behind
him. The passengers behind were kind enough to return the bag without
complaint. Then Calder started swiping his hand at me, scratching me and it was
all I could do to grab hold of both his arms before they could do further
damage.
Meanwhile,
my 6-year-old girl, Ethel, came up to me to ask if she could play on my iPhone.
“No,
mei mei, go back to your seat. I may
need the handphone to call your Dad for help,” I hissed.
Then
she came up again and asked if I could give her her yellow booklet for drawing.
“I
cannot help you,” I retorted, “Can’t you see that both my hands are tied holding
on to Calder?”
Ethel
had to return to her seat, a distance from us, resigned to a long journey of boredom.
I looked at her, slumped at her seat and thought, “My poor girl. My good girl.”
Then
Calder screamed and tried scaling the bus, but he could not go far because I
was holding on to his arms for dear life. If the bus passengers had thought
this was a problem of discipline, they probably changed their minds when they
saw Calder licking the bus. I tried calming him by giving him his favourite
music, but he yanked the earphone off. Then I counted to 10. This seemed to
have some effect, but after 10, he got agitated again. He chewed at the sleeve
of my cardigan, so I took off the cardigan and gave it to him to bite, but he flung
it away. Finally, I sang one of his favourite songs, a Chinese Christian number
entitled Road of Grace (恩典之路) and that gradually calmed him down. I sang the song
over and over again, tapping the beat with one hand over his, then tapping his
two hands together, then releasing his hands and tapping the beat on his chest.
One
passenger, before getting off the bus, turned to me and said, “You are a great
mother.”
My
brave countenance buckled and tears started escaping from my eyes. I realized
then that I had been in a combat mode, battling a formidable enemy called
autism. When this lady’s kind words came to me, it broke the dam. My shoulders
finally relaxed and I allowed myself rest for the rest of the journey.
At
the end of the one-hour ride, Calder looked happy again. In fact, he began
sliding into hysteria, laughing over the unexplained. Ethel came over and climbed
onto my lap, wanting a cuddle. I gave her my love in a hug but told her I had
to handle her brother before he became hysterical. Otherwise, we would not be
able to get home.
“How
are you going to get him home?” she asked.
“You
take care of yourself while I take care of Calder,” I said.
She
understood and we got home in one piece. That ended our very harrowing
experience of an outing.
I
learnt three things from this experience. The first is that a meltdown is
easier to cope with when you see it not as misbehavior, but as a momentary
weakness. At the end of the bus journey, Calder was bouncing happily on his
seat and clapping his hands. Seeing the drastic before-and-after, I lost all
intentions to reprimand him for his wild gestures. The second thing I learn is
that a meltdown can be resolved with love, instead of strictness or
disciplinary actions. The third thing is that autism builds resilience, not
only in the parent but also the sibling.
One
more thing: Despite scary experiences like this, I would continue to bring
Calder out. Why? He likes it and because I love him.
***
This
article was first published in the Jul/Aug 2014 issue of Autism Asperger’s
Digest. Brenda Tan is the author of Come
into My World: 31 Stories of Autism in Singapore (www.come-into-my-world.com).
