People say things to me. I’m not sure if it’s just because I”m me. I’m not sure it’s because I have two autistic children. I’m not sure if I have an invisible post-it note on my forehead that says, “Kick me.”
Here’s an example of what I mean. For years, I had an online book store and visited the post office daily so the postal employees and I were friendly with each other. (I gave them cookies every Christmas–that’s how friendly we were.)
One particular day, this happened:
Me: Hi.
USPS Employee: I’m so glad you came in today.
Me, smiling: Aw, thank–
USPS Employee: Because I was having a crappy day and then I saw you and thought, it could be worse.
Just think about that for a second, okay?
Over the past ten years since my first son was diagnosed with autism, I have developed a thick skin and finely-tuned my sarcasm. Not much will offend me enough to do more than laugh and that’s a good thing, a very good thing. I’ve discovered that our family can sometimes make people feel . . . uncomfortable. When people feel uncomfortable, they tend to say what they’re thinking and then it gets kind of
What do they say? Here’s a few memorable moments:
She Said: “Thank goodness you don’t have more at home. That’s the last thing you need.”
What She Meant: “You can’t even handle the kids you have now. You need to close up shop, lady. No more kids for you. Ever.”
Several ago, I was on the hunt for a new pediatrician. Finding a new doctor for the kids can be frustrating. The office needs to run on time, the staff need to be autism-friendly, and the doctor has to listen to me. (Because, let’s face it, I know a lot more about autism than they do. I’m not bragging. I live with it every single day. They write referrals to pediatric neurologists.).
This particular doctor, let’s call her Dr. M, came highly recommended. But, alas, there was a mistake on the part of the office, in scheduling. We had to wait over an hour. At lunchtime. The boys were, um, not exactly calm when we were finally called back. While trying to get one boy weighed, another escaped. When I got him back, the next one took off. It was like a scene from a bad sitcom starring me as the lovable but frazzled and clearly incompetent parent. After getting my sprints in for the day chasing wily, squiggly boys, we finally got into the room.
Dr. M arrived shortly thereafter. Before she even began the actual exams, she went through a list of questions, one of which was, “Do you have any other children at home?” Before I could even answer, she said in that way people say things under their breath but really want you to hear it, “Thank goodness you don’t have more at home. That’s the last thing you need.”
As you might imagine, we never went back to see her.
Also, two years later, I had another kid . . . . you know, just to spite her.
What She Should have Said Instead: “My, what a lovely family you have.”
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What She Said: “And the two with autism are adopted, right?”
What She Meant: “I can’t believe you’d actually kept having kids after one was diagnosed with autism. At least if they’re adopted, you’re like a martyr for adopting special needs kids and not, like, crazy.”
Just one teeny, tiny problem. Our kids look just like us and each other. Sorry, not adopted. (For the record, I think adoption is an amazing thing).
We did, in fact, continue to have children after the first one was diagnosed with autism. Actually, I was four months pregnant with the third one (who would later also be diagnosed) while our oldest son was diagnosed. I love each one of our children. Are some days very difficult? Absolutely. Is it worth it? Yes.
So, yes, I am just crazy.
What She Should Have Said: “My, what a lovely family you have.”
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What She Said: “Your husband can never die. You’d never find anyone to marry you.”
What She Meant: “No man on God’s green earth would want to be saddled with you and your four autistic kids.”
First, my husband is never dying. Ever. Out of the question. Second, okay, this may be the truest statement of them all. I’m blessed to have found the one guy in the universe to put up with my bad housekeeping, sarcasm, and occasional crying jags. Aside from making pretty spectacular chocolate chip cookies, my merits as a wife are suspect.
So. I’ll just refer back to the first point: my husband is never dying.
What She Should Have Said: “My, what a lovely family you have.”
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Other safe alternatives where you’re at a loss for words:
- “I love your family.”
- “Thanks for hanging out with me.”
- “How can I help?”
- “I’ll be praying for you.”
- “I’ll watch your children while you this giant chocolate bar and drink this entire bottle of wine.”
I know most people aren’t purposely trying to offend me but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less. If they could just think about what they’re saying first. How would it sound if someone said it to you? When in doubt, kindness (and silence) always win.
Also wine and chocolate and laughing. Those things win too.
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2 responses to “Things People Say (and Should Never Say Again)”
Ugh. People.
It’s not the same, but I get weird comments based on my singleness as well. People just don’t think before they word vomit.
So true.