I've not had to wait long for the boot to be on the other
foot. And the way that Ethan and I both handled our mistakes has really brought
home the differences between us and pinpointed the reason why I find Ethan's
attitude so difficult.
Today, we'd planned for Ethan to take Sam to Legoland
Discovery Centre after school - we'd been promising him it for ages and today
we'd finally found a day that we could make it work. Before I left home to take
Oliver out for the afternoon I reminded Ethan to take his wallet. On my way home
with Oliver, I called Ethan to arrange where to meet him so that he could take
the car - and I checked whether he'd got his wallet: 'Yes', came his rather irritated
reply. Ten minutes later I met him at school as he was picking up Sam to go to
Legoland. 'You have got your wallet, haven't you?' I shouted after him in what
I hoped was a light-hearted tone whilst knowing that asking the same question
three times is often necessary with Ethan. Ethan nodded, waved his hand
dismissively and off he went.
Fifty minutes later, I got the phone call. As soon as I saw
his name on the caller display, I felt my heart lurch. I'm generally on
tenterhooks when Ethan's doing something with one of the kids, or out with
friends - I'm hoping against hope that all will go well but bracing myself for
something to go wrong. It also occurred to me, as the phone rang, that I
automatically scan my brain for whether whatever the problem is could be
something that I've caused. I've read about partners of people with Aspergers
living with self-doubt and feeling that somehow they're responsible when things
go wrong. I vowed to myself I wouldn't go down that road and I do fight my
corner ferociously with Ethan but, subconsciously, I think I'm nearer to that
point than I'd realised.
Anyway, the words I was greeted with, as I picked up the
phone and said hello were "What time does Legoland close?" - no
greeting, no small-talk. I get that, the phone-call is purely
information-based. So, sticking to information, I asked the reason for his
question. Sticking to his un-emotional, information-based approach, he
announced: 'I've not got my wallet.' I was genuinely floored. Three times I'd
asked him, three times he'd said yes. And yet he'd driven all the way to
Legoland, forty minutes drive away, before actually checking whether he did
indeed have his wallet. Massively annoying and frustrating to say the least -
and I was thinking of poor Sam in a hot, sweaty car missing precious time in
Legoland. But the worst part of the whole sorry episode came next. "That's
why there's meant to be money in the car..." he started, referring to the change
we keep in the car (there was £10 but not the £15 he needed). I knew exactly
where he was going with this line - he's always moaning about me using money
from the car and not replacing it. Perhaps a valid point. But what struck me,
in that moment, was that exactly a week ago as I drove the car with its roof
box into a multi-storey car park and cracked it from one side to the other, I
phoned Ethan and the first thing I said was how sorry I was. I didn't blame him
for putting the box on there two weeks before we went on holiday. I didn't
blurt out 'I've knackered the roof box,' I said sorry. Whether it's down to
Aspergers or being male, whenever he messes up, Ethan will always look for
someone else to blame (and it's often me since I'm the nearest person to him -
in every way). It's wearying to say the least. And frustrating and hurtful and destructive
to self-esteem, certainly destructive to a healthy, happy relationship.
It all worked out - one hour, 36 miles, one
argument and one revelation later than it would have taken had he just checked
he'd got his wallet. And I now have a choice - to let resentment and disillusionment
build or to try to help us both learn from this
encounter about each other's feelings and needs. Whilst not taking responsibility for his mistakes, I'm sure there are
lessons I can learn about how to
support him more without turning into a doormat. I'm well aware that he is always supportive of me, sometimes in his own unique way.
At the end of the day, it's not about a plastic box on a car roof or about plastic bricks in an over-priced warehouse - it's about the way we
treat each other in the inevitable frustrations of life.