Outside Looking In

I love to people watch.  When I'm at the park, the pool, the grocery store, a restaurant--there is always someone, or a group of someones, worth watching.  There are different reasons a particular person or group of people might attract my attention.  Sometimes I wonder what that person's story is, other times I make one up.  I watch behavior, words, clothing, make up, body language, social interaction.  I'm not a very social person myself, so I suppose maybe this is my way of interacting.

Sometimes the person I'm watching is a child. Sometimes that child is interacting with other children, with a parent, or just by him/herself.  I think, as mothers with our own experiences, we are quick to watch the interactions of other parents and children, deciding what we might do differently, recognizing good, hard work as it is, and sometimes--recognizing when something might be a little different.  Something we can identify with, but the parent and child are yet unaware of themselves.

This happened in the park the other day.  It broke my heart to watch a child who, to me, seemed to be quite obviously on the spectrum, and the parent, who was quite oblivious and impatient with it.  Of course, it is also possible she was not so oblivious, and is just impatient. When her child went off by himself, engaged in stimming behaviors, and some other behavior that displeased her, she screamed at him to go play with his friends, begged him to stop, and asked him what is wrong with him.  She was exasperated, impatient and generally annoyed.

It was hard to watch, but truly, I've been there.  I think that was what made it hardest, in all honesty.  I know where she is, or at least, where she might be.  She's trying to figure out what is wrong with her as a mom, what she isn't getting right, and what is wrong with her child.  She may be starting to realize it's not necessarily her parenting skills, and it's not necessarily his listening skills.  She's starting to recognize the differences between her child and other children his age, but she doesn't know what to do with it.  She doesn't have anyone to speak life to her, to guide her, but even if she did, she is not ready to listen.  As I watched her, I could not judge her.  I could empathize, and sympathize, but I could not judge.

I sat on my bench watching Avery--my 'normal' kid--playing, jumping, swinging, yelling, laughing, giggling, while I mulled all of this over.  I know the struggle with Noah was real, and I know my denial hurt us both.  I wondered how many people watched us with the same anguish I was watching this mom with, and I know I would not have listened if someone had spoken to me.  I was not ready to listen, and until I was, I would only turn away from those who tried.  

Hindsight is always 20/20.  And looking in from the outside is always easier than looking in from within.  We all have something we have, or currently struggle with.  Be patient, be kind, be a friend.