Of Tea Cups and Autism Sometimes the twins have come such a long way that I forget just how bad it can get. This morning was one of those mornings of how bad it can get. A few weeks ago, someone gave me the gift of a set of bone china tea mugs. This was a significant passage for me because since the twins were able to crawl, I stopped collecting such things. They were simply items that would be destroyed. I used to have a lovely collection of old tea cups in various patterns. I only have a couple left. Through the years, little autistic hands would find them, hide them, break them. They seem as drawn to antique tea cups as I. So, when I opened that gift of a lovely set of tea mugs, I thought to myself, maybe I could start collecting again. It’s not that I’m all that materialistic. Having kids with autism has taught me not to care about that sort of thing all that much. You learn not to get attached to “stuff.” But, a girl likes to surround herself with pretty things. It’s just part of her nesting extinct. At least, it’s always been a part of mine. But this morning I was proved horribly wrong. It’s not quite time to start collecting again. Maybe it never will be. And maybe that’s as it should be. The things of this world are temporary. Bone china mugs come and go but people last forever. As I roused myself from sleep this morning,I heard the awful sound of breaking glass. I knew the boys were fighting because that’s what woke me up. After the first crash I thought, well, okay, they must have broken a light fixture. But then another crash came. And another. And another. The twins’ TV room and bedrooms are on the bottom floor of the house. There’s a concrete floor because investing in any kind of carpet would be a waste. I can’t stand carpet to start with (it’s just a harbinger of all things gross and nasty and germy) and with autism and incontinence — concrete is just easier to keep clean. But it doesn’t break the fall of a girl’s pretty dishes. And that’s what I heard crashing to the floor down there. The boys had taken my prettiest mugs down there to drink out of. Of course they did. They have impeccable taste in china… They’d also taken my one-of-a-kind pottery snack plates. Once again, I will open my kitchen cabinets to find mismatched plates, tea mugs, glasses…a disjointed 3-D symbol of how autism affects us every day. It touches everything we own, everything we do, everything we see, think, hear, feel, taste. It’s all around us, smashing our china, smothering our hopes, and shattering our dreams. We’ll fall on our face to the concrete but we’ll stand again and wipe the tears, sweep up the mess and start again. We will always start anew. Because despite the ugliness, there’s still some beauty in the small victories. When an autistic child learns to surprise you with flowers, ride a bike, pass you a love note in church—those are the things worth more than bone china. Those are the things that last forever. And those are the things I’ll collect.
