Laughter is the best medicine

Anyone with autistic children understands the lengths we go to sometimes (or every single time) just to get a decent picture of them. I am intimately familiar with the struggle because it is a true labor of love to get my two boys to smile at a camera, especially my Nico.

This is actually one of only 3 Santa pictures I have for Nico in his 12 years of life. And it’s literally Max’s FIRST visit to Santa despite being 5 years old.

It has taken me years to muster up the energy and will to tackle this holiday tradition because it is such an orchestrated event, but for some strange reason I thought this year was THE year.

Excuse me while I laugh out loud at what a historical hot mess it was! It’s the laughing that allows me to reflect on the events of tonight with more joy in my heart than despair and disappointment.

That’s why laughing, for me, is the best medicine.

I took my family for Santa photos tonight. This included my two autistic sons, my niece and nephew, my sister-in-law and my husband. I chose Friday at 6pm on the kick off of Christmas Break even though I really should have known better, but in my mind I couldn’t think of a better way to start our pre-Christmas weekend.

Max is a beast when he’s tired which is exactly how he felt as we left the house, and Nico was fully molded into his favorite spot on the couch expecting to go nowhere for the next two weeks. But…it was a trip to see Santa so I figured they would make an exception and be pumped for the adventure.

They did and they were, but that’s where our real story begins.

To help you truly understand and visualize the scene of my biggest mom fail to date, let me set it up for you:

Nico has very little patience and does not understand the idea of wait time. Max has NO patience and NO concept of wait time.

Soooo….it was no surprise that as soon as we approached Santa’s Workshop, and the boys saw the long line they were about to wait at the end of, Max immediately melted down and Nico began stimming at full force and making his favorite barking chihuahua noises.

Mind you, I thought I had set us up for success because I made a reservation. Plus, I planned it so that we would arrive with just a few minutes to spare with little to NO WAIT TIME at all.

Reservations, however, were clearly just a suggestion since there were oodles of families, some with reservations and some who just walked up, huddled together in line trying to stay warm since the temperature decided to drop 20 degrees in the span of an hour. Awesome. We left the house with no coats.

All four of our kids along with gaggles of other toddlers, pre-teens and angsty teenagers were all shifting, squirming, and whining nonstop because of the long line, frigid temps, and full bladders.

The line was growing longer by the minute, but this was when Santa and his elves decide to take a 10-minute break. Yep…Santa decided that 6:15pm would be the best time to leave his workshop unmanned and take a stretch break.

I’ve never heard so many expletives under muffled breath, but I think every parent in line was thinking the same thing at the same time: “Who the hell does this Santa thinks he is??”

Fast forward to 6:51pm and my family finally enters the illustrious 200 square feet of Santa’s Workshop.

The kids walked in and immediately greeted Santa. Max was a little uncertain of how to approach Santa, but I knew my Nico was going to go right up to Santa without delay. He struggles with zone of proximity and personal space, so he immediately approached Santa and gave him the biggest hug. Santa was wonderful with him and completely welcomed his embrace and affection. Santa recognized that Nico was on the spectrum and responded beautifully. In that moment, he earned back some brownie points that he previously lost when he took that poorly-timed break.

We got the kids all positioned and began to coach them on how to smile. I was really feeling good about how this was gonna go.

Santa’s lady elf, a retired grandma who probably should’ve taken the morning shift, starts snapping the photos. My niece and nephew sport lovely smiles while my two boys are looking all over the place per usual. So Elf “Brenda” (that’s what we’ll call her) decides she’s going to get my boys to smile with a Disney stuffed animal that had clearly seen better days.

She starts waving it around to get them to smile and, to her credit, we thought she got a really good one, but when she went to check out the shot she realized she had put the god blessed stuffie in front of the camera so the photo was a bust.

Nico was now losing his patience and starting to get antsy. Max had become a bit anxious because of Santa’s death grip on him while he sat on his lap, so he was smiling with such a constipated grin that my focus momentarily shifted to him. My husband got Nico to give us one more smile and I convinced Max to do the same.

Well…“Brenda” got the damn stuffie in the way again and ruined the one shot we thought we had salvaged. Santa was now losing his holiday spirit and turned a bit Krampus on her. He tells her in an exasperated tone that she has done it again, but “Brenda” was not having it, so she claps back with, “No I didn’t!” until she looks and sees that she absolutely did.

Before I could try to share some words of encouragement, she literally threw the stuffed animal and shouted, “God damn it! Forget the stuffie!” Her words, not mine, folks.

My husband, sister-in-law, and I start laughing uncomfortably as we now realize this may be the last we’re about to see of her. Santa belts out a few “Ho Ho Hos” to lighten the mood and keep our kids from fearing the worst in Elf “Brenda.”

We all try desperately to get Nico to smile one last time so we can snag our $50 photo package and book it out of there, but nope.

Nico had hit his breaking point. He decides he’s going to use this opportunity to share with everyone just how he was feeling, which was overwhelmed, over-sensitized, and over the whole darn photo shoot.

So, without hesitation, he blurts out “This is bullshit” as clear as day, which causes my husband to burst out laughing and run out of the tiny home we’re all crammed into.

I immediately jump into crisis mode and try to get Nico to calm himself. I tell him I understand he’s ready to go but he cannot use that language while the photographer SIMULTANEOUSLY is telling him, “Come on, sweetie…just one more smile for the camera.”

Ok now, you’re gonna wanna gird your loins because his next response was even more spirited. In his defense; however, he used these words in such great context I didn’t know whether to be in shock or in awe.

Nico looked dead at me and said, “What the f@&$!” in the clearest yet most monotone voice he could muster. He was officially done.

He then turns to Santa, without skipping a beat, gives him a slight embrace, and lets out a huge roar, which scares the hell out of Santa and results in Max nearly falling off his lap.

At that moment, my husband ushers Nico out, my niece and nephew bolt for the door, and Max runs to my sister-in-law for dear life, but not before telling Santa, “I want trucks. Don’t forget!”

Elf “Brenda,” not wanting to surrender to defeat, asks us for one more photo but Santa and I shoot that down real quick. I ask for my prints, politely decline her feeble attempt to sell me the $80 “Santa and Me” frame, and walk out dying of laughter.

And good ol’ Santa…well, he lets out a jolly little chuckle, waves goodbye, and then welcomes the next family to the torture chamber.

As we walked to the car, giving each other a play by play of what just transpired, the following thoughts washed over me:

• Tonight may have gone completely haywire but at least we tried.
• Autism is what exhausted me tonight, not my sons.
• Max is definitely going to need more support and eventually be put in therapy because he struggles in foreign environments and cannot self-regulate.
• Nico has grown so much because he would have melt down so badly in the past but today he showed so much restraint as we waited in line.
• Max never does well when he is tired so if we push him past his limit then we cannot get upset with him when he melts down.
• My husband is not at his best after a long day of work and no food in his stomach.
• I have to remember who my boys are and what they can handle.
• Age and chronic fatigue determine what I can handle now.
• My boys may never enjoy smiling for cameras and I have to accept that. Professional photos may not be in the cards for us any time soon.
• Nico is growing up and beginning to test the boundaries more, as all young adolescents do.
• I am beyond proud with how much Nico is communicating, and without us prompting him.
• I will speak to Nico about the language he used but secretly I am so proud of him for using it in the right context to communicate his frustration. They say intelligent people tend to curse more.
• If this shitshow had been recorded, I’d be submitting it to all the major networks because my family truly needs our own sitcom or reality show. And lastly…
• The special needs parenting struggle is real, but there is truly nothing more rewarding and life-affirming than being a special needs parent. “The hard is what makes it great.”

Happy Holidays!