Some people are just never happy

And of course I would be one of them!

Some people are under the misapprehension that I am an unnaturally happy person and have no complaints. [translation = in the realms of autism at least]

Such people, I would have you know, are quite wrong. Generally speaking, I usually feel much better if I am permitted a jolly good moan. It can be cathartic to just write things down that bother you. I am given to understand by my psychobabble pals, that the act of crumpling up the paper and burning it, funereal style, also helps put an end to the process. [translation = closure]

You see whilst both my boys are autistic, each ‘type’ of autism that they have, differs from the other, which is very tiresome for a parent with a small brain. If that wasn't enough to contend with, they also have speech delays, but each child's speech delay differs from the other, which is even more bothersome for a parent with an even tinier brain.

Currently, now that they are much less speech delayed than they were a few years back, we now face the annoyingness of small people who wish to communicate. [translation = verbally by using words instead of meltdowns]

For instance, I have no idea how many hours of your waking life you spend talking? Some people are chatterboxes, and others are little more reserved. Some people chat noisily, whilst others are much more modest and reserved. It all adds to the variety of human existence.

How many hours should a baby babble for? That is a fact that I once knew, but have somehow managed to mislay. [translation = rapid advance of decrepitude]

Around here, my more verbal, speech delayed, autistic son, babbles as he breathes. There is a constant stream of noise associated with this particular chappy. He emits little mouth noises, ditties, refrains and catch phrases without pause. If I didn't know better, I would have assumed that he would have worn out his vocal chords over a year ago, especially if you take into account the screaming sessions. I would prefer not to take account of the screaming sessions, but as it is, it's all part and parcel of snapping those neural pathways into shape. [translation = practice makes perfect]

In the meantime, I am tempted to wear ear plugs, [translation = but not all of the time] to blot out the barrage of sound. If I were to wear ear plugs all of the time to lessen, but not eliminate, the excess volume, this would mean that I would probably miss my other son’s attempts to communicate. Both brothers suffer from a severe lack of volume control. [translation = one is so loud that he could burst your ear drum with one piercing shriek, but the other one is so quiet that he would need to have a megaphone attached to his mouth to amplify his whispers.]

It’s all so grossly unfair. [translation = confusing] Why can’t they swap a bit? [translation = trade] Why can’t motor mouth keep quiet for a while and hand over some of his excess verbiage to his silent brother? [translation = the one for whom I can count the number of sentences he utters a day] I have to face the truth, that I am just naturally grumpy.

Now stand back from the screen so you don’t singe your eyebrows, as I have a match in my hand. [translation = and it's lit]

For a health update on one cause of general grumpiness, go “here.”

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2 Comments

  1. elasticwaistbandlady:

    Both my boys were/are speech delayed. Thanks to the incessant chatter of my girls, though, and their their keen translation skills for their brothers, the flow of communication kept/keeps on rolling.

  2. gettingthere:

    Hilarious! This is the first time I’ve worked up the nerve to leave a comment on any of the autism blogs that I read avidly.

    “My more verbal, speech delayed, autistic son, babbles as he breathes”

    Well, all I can say is that your “motor mouth” sounds remarkably like David, my aspie 12-year old when he was between 4 and 7. When he was little, I wept (secretly), I mourned (privately) and I raged (inwardly) that I, an articulate woman could have given birth to this bright but most inarticulate child who got his pronouns all mixed up. At first I complained (loudly) to my Mom and then to the doctor about his delayed speech at which point the good lady replied, “Madam, he will speak and when he starts, you might rue the day”. To be quite honest, sometimes I do, but not for long.

    So brace yourself, for “motor mouth” and the “silent” one will go from strength to strength. Before you know it, ever more complicated sentences will begin to flow fast and furious and properly articulated questions will be hurled at maximum volume and with great precision at your hapless ears at all hours of the day and night. I too, know those fleeting moments of yearning for a wee bit of quiet. However, when I hear my exuberant chatterbox holding forth eloquently on a bewildering array of subjects from sun up to sun down, I thank God that with time, patience, countless hours of bedtime stories and yes, the much maligned TV, the 3-hour screaming sessions gradually gave way to speech. But I do tell him to shut up from time to time. As far as I can tell, his self-esteem is intact. So go ahead and tell Mr Motor Mouth to let Mr Silent have his say sometimes.