Boots n coats n boots n coats

My son beat boxes using the lyrics "boots n cats n boots n cats", it helps him sometimes when he feels like hitting and slapping me or the dog which is his form of stimming (self stimulation).  Sometimes it works, other times slapping out a rhythm on the new TomToms I bought him works but a lot of the time he just slaps and hits. Thankfully the dog is very patient and only loses it when severely pushed, when he’s feeling pain. Same for me really, he likes to slap me on my upper arm and leg for some reason it’s the best part of my body to feel the sensation he needs and it makes the best sound. He’s now 6’2” and filling out and it is getting painful. Of course I tell him not to do it, to stop but that’s a bit like asking someone with tourettes to stop twitching.

There’s no doubt sometimes I need a break but I find it hard to ask.  But then there was Russell Brand, an advertised evening seeing his show down in Brighton was enough to make me ask.  A mini break no less, a day and a night off.  Wondering around the Brighton lanes and in my head I was singing boots n coats and boots n coats. Most autism Mums will tell you that you start to think like your child as you spend so much time with them but at least I was thinking shopping.  Shopping, I mean shopping for things other than necessities and clothes for your child, that wonderful elusive bubble world where you float around looking for things in the dressing up box and Brighton is one of the best.  Then there it was with its fluffy turquoise shimmer, locking in my gaze “it will be mine, oh yes it will be mine” but “HOW MUCH” I shrank away gutted, I couldn’t justify that……could I?  Carry on rummaging was the only solution, around and around the lanes.  I bought a brand spankey new pair of DM’s with fur lining to help ease the pain, those faithful, wonderful friends who know me so well, alas my old ones had been eaten by the dog.  Then the oasis of the pub, the oracle to help me make my difficult coat purchasing decision. Within an hour the deal was done (after a good haggle) and I was swaggering around Brighton in my coat of one amazing colour.

I set the alcohol level to numb in order to keep coat guilt from creeping in and sat down at last to see Messiah Complex. First there was an amazing poet but he talked about consumerism, then Mr Brand  said that if we believe in nothing we will believe in anything and that maybe our lack of belief has led to a worship of celebrity and consumerism.  I agree with pretty much everything that Russell said, even the bit about the tic tacs, and I was nodding and agreeing and laughing and hiding my coat.  I really don’t want to come across as “oh poor old me” but I’ve been in the situation where on a Monday I’ve only had £10 in my account to feed myself and my son for the rest of the week.  My personal circumstances have changed now and things are better but I know the value of money and I’m the one that’s always saying “Is it a want or a need hmmmmm”.  I left Brighton conflicted.

With Halloween here I’m off to a gig to see a band that I loved in my youth and my young man is eager to put on his much loved costumes, so up to the  loft I went this evening  to gather the dusty dressing up box for us both.  And then behind it I saw an old bag that I once used and inside it was the most wonderful treasure that I thought I had lost.  Dresses I had bought from Camden market and the second hand altered clothes stand The Rack and others purchased at festivals and rallies.  Carefully picked out and rescued before I’d lost my youth, just in case. These weren’t just cloths they were the same as my coat, the special ones.

So I know that worshiping celebrity and consumerism will leave your soul empty but it’s hard to explain the comfort of the special ones.  The story that keeps coming to mind is the one where after the liberation of the concentration camps of the holocaust, someone bought the women survivors  lipstick and they apparently applied it with joy, it made them feel like individuals again.  Being an autism Mum can never be compared to a holocaust survivor, absolutely no way, but when you spend 24/7 caring intensively for someone, to be able to have a bit of time off to just float and wonder around and buy that "special one" is important. It’s a reminder that you need to value yourself, to be an individual and allow yourself a treat or two. In fact I’d say it’s vital.