by Heather Moores

Created on: March 02, 2009

A blizzard is raging across Connecticut and my sons have cabin fever. Marcus has planted himself in one corner and Julian is crouched in the opposite corner and baby carrots are flying like bullets across the room. It appears that open warfare instead of snack time is on the menu. They are having so much fun, I wouldn't dare intervene. It has been a difficult morning for them and I am relieved to hear shouts of glee instead of screams of anguish. I don't even mind the fact that I have just had a carrot lobbed at my head. I am also indifferent to the fact that the carrots will end up in the trash; I'm not really much of a carrot person anyway.

Other parents would not allow this behavior, I am sure. Then again, I don't exactly have what is considered a normal household. I have three boys with Autism and to us, the only normal thing these days is the setting on our dishwasher. We have learned never to expect any normal mode of play in our house. Age-appropriate toys usually fall by the wayside as my sons find new and interesting ways to play with a set of plastic hangers. The world they inhabit is often riddled with pain and suffering and anything that calms them and creates even a few moments of happiness I become an immediate fan of.

My oldest son, Julian, reminds me of a miniature football player. He is enormous for his age, standing at almost four feet tall and weighing in at eighty pounds. He is only four years old. Even though he has Autism, I still have dreams of him completing a 90-yard dash straight through the Notre Dame endzone. If he is this big at age four, I wonder how big he will be at age eighteen.

My other two little men, Marcus and Aric, are average sized yet stocky. That comes from my side of the family. Julian, the giant, is an offshoot of my husband's family. All three of them have unbelievable strength. I have watched Julian knock over a large dresser like he was batting away an annoying fly. Marcus can pick up his own bed. If I were to arm wrestle either one of them, I would probably lose.

No one on either side of the family can believe that Autism has hit our family not once, not twice, but three times. Sometimes it is absolutely unfathomable. To say that it is unfair would be a gross understatement. Everyone always has several questions about the boys and their daily activities. It is hard to give them answers because the activities change all the time. We try desperately to keep a set routine going but something unforseen always takes precedence.

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