Close your eyes for a moment and imagine that feeling you have when you are taking your kids to a place where you know they will have to be relatively well behaved and quiet. Focus in on that nervousness you have in anticipation of getting there and the worries you have on your way. Usually, you can't even relax until it is over. Now, open your eyes and magnify the feeling you are experiencing by about 1,000 and you might maybe possibly feel a tiny bit of what I feel in that same situation. I don't mean to minimize what all parents go through when they get a plane with their kids, or go to a restaurant or take them someplace full of adults. It is nerve racking for everyone. The difference is though, that for you the chance of having a problem is a possibility whereas for me, it is usually a sure thing.
Last night and today was purim. My husband and I spent quite a bit of time trying to figure out how best to approach the hearing of the megillah on Wednesday night. Most families dress their kids up and go but for us, it is obviously more complicated. After much discussion, we decided to "divide and conquer". I was going to take the younger kids to an early reading at someones home and my husband was going to take our oldest to shul for the carnival. This way he could have some fun in a place he loves, and then my husband could catch a later reading for himself. It seemed like a workable plan. And then, just as I was trying to get out the door, my oldest said he wanted to come too (which of course excited me since it meant that he wanted to take part in Purim) and so I said no problem, lets go, and the whole family of 5, plus 1 iPad for distraction, jumped in the car.
Let me preface by telling you that we were in the home of a family that we are closely related to and where my son is very comfortable. You would think, that being the case, that I could relax. Not so much. I will tell you, that he was pretty good. There were no meltdowns, no screaming so loud that no one could hear the megillah, he didn't bother a single other child and yet, the experience was exhausting. He took up residence in their pantry, fridge and freezer. He proceeded to eat them out of house and home, (which I of course allowed in the name of fulfilling the mitzvah of hearing the megillah) to open every other cabinet in their kitchen and he required constant supervision by both me and their live in babysitter. I would like to believe that I heard the whole thing but to be honest, as my dad would say, I pretty much took it for "pass/fail".
And so, when the megillah reading was over and a few people came over to me to tell me what a great job he did all I could do was look at them as if they had grown second heads. While they were not wrong in saying that, for me, it was still a totally hands on, stressful and exhausting experience. I am not even sure if 24 hours later I have entirely recovered.
What I later tried to explain to a friend of mine was that what I miss most of all is that feeling of normalcy. I looked around at all the women sitting there, who essentially managed to sit the whole time with barely any interruption from their kids, and felt jealous. Now, I am sure, if you asked them they would describe their experience as stressful too. They might tell you that they worried about their kids making too much noise, or that they missed a verse or two as a result of their kids, but they basically had a normal experience.
Since last night I have been trying to dig back as deep as I can to remember what it feels like to just be normal. To do all of things that people do and experience them in the same way. I want to say that it is a feeling I miss but truthfully, I am not sure I even remember it or that I would recognize it if it smacked me in the face. To be completely honest, I don't need to be normal I just wouldn't mind being somewhere on "the spectrum".
