Like I said, you never know what you're gonna get

Halloween: a treasured child-centered holiday, right? Who doesn't have fabulous memories of trick-or-treating, treasured costumes and the onslaught of candy?

I vividly remember the first Halloween Jackson could really participate and "get it". He had just turned 2 and was a big fan of Toy Story, so I spent $40 on the costume at the Disney store and waited with anticipation of our first "real" night of trick-or-treating.

We have these awful photos of that night: Jackson miserable in his costume, red eyed and red faced with no clue what could possibly be fun about this scene. He slept through Halloween the year he was 3, and tolerated it a bit more the year he was 4. I quit hoping for the typical Halloween experience and became appreciative of the little things: at least he'll wear a costume.

Last year, he had a great time--finally finding the pure joy in the holiday. Likely, following his brother's cue, but also excited to be Spider man (again, I shamelessly spent $40 on a costume to his liking, hoping beyond hope he'd enjoy it). We walked all through town last year for over and hour. I can't explain to you how incredible it was; how normal it felt.

This year, sadly, the stars were not aligned in our favor. During a typical Saturday shopping with Dad, Jax lost one of his coveted stuffed animals. Thus, began our quest to find (or replace) the lost toy. His anxiety was off the charts. He was scripting things:
"Oh, I'm a lost toy"
"Dad, do you know where Widget is?
"Mom, I lost Widget"
"I can't find Widget"
"Oh, I'm so sad"
It got progressively worse.
Trick-or-treating was out of the question.

In the midst of this is my 6 year old, who is wearing his pirate costume and just wants to trick or treat. Then, when he finally gets to go, most of the magic of the night is lost. There isn't anyone to share the excitement with; no one to run from door to door. A cloud of concern for his brother, "mom if dad finds Widget will Jax come with me?"

Is it not enough that autism takes from me? Is it not enough that Jackson is trapped? Captive to the demons of autism? No, clearly, his brother is another casualty of this ugly, hateful disease.

In the end, we found the "lost" toy, but we cannot get back the wonder, and joy that should have been ours tonight. I cannot help but be angry about it. I'm angry at myself too, for letting my guard down. For expecting another year of "normal". That maybe what made me the most angry...that I let autism get the best of me--again.