August 12, 2025

We are on vacation this week, which is a predictably unpredictable subset of days of our lives. Who am I kidding? Every single day of our lives is unpredictable.

Vacation adds an additional layer of complexity. For my youngest son, who craves routine and certainty, vacation takes us away from the comforts of home. The parenting conundrum is that we need vacation to escape some realities of home–work, chores, messy rooms, extracurricular activities, the monotony of day-to-day life. Even as an autistic adult, I crave some degree of novelty and spontaneity, which is likely the influence of my ADHD. I will add that we tend to vacation at the same places routinely, so the novelty is contained within a certain range of possible spontaneity!

When we book vacations, we are actually gambling. Our oldest son vacations without difficulty–he enjoys all the thrills in life. Our youngest, Miles, may not even feel like leaving the hotel room. He will leave and try going to a new place briefly and it is almost like you can see an uncertainty barometer fill and set off an alarm. Miles will declare, “I want to go back to the room now.”

For this trip, we are at Universal Studios Florida. It’s a higher-stake trip, because it is our first time visiting Epic Universe, which opened this Spring. I’ve been telling my husband for a year to manage his expectations and go into this week with a flexible attitude. Andy is the type of theme park goer that plans to arrive at rope-drop to have the best chances of waiting less time for popular rides. We can’t do this with Miles. I don’t know what kind of mood he will awaken in, and we certainly cannot guarantee we can get him dressed and ready to leave by a certain time.

We are halfway through our trip, and I consider it a success, but I also genuinely lowered my expectations. Have I been disappointed? Sure! Have I wondered if we get the value out of the money we pay for a theme park vacation? Absolutely. Have I played the comparison game, comparing how much I am sacrificing vs. how much Andy is? Yep, I am not above that at all.

Andy and I have been trading off pretty seamlessly. So far, we have managed a couple of hours each day in a park together before we have to split up, and one parent takes Miles back to the safety of the room. Miles has tried some rides. One day he rode 9 rides, which was really impressive. It meant I spent a lot of damn time in Seussland, but he rode rides!

I can see the wear and tear of the ‘divide and conquer’ method on Andy’s face. He just gets visibly bothered by Miles’s unpredictability. Let’s call this the perfect storm of the strong need for certainty for both Miles and Andy clashing. It’s not that I don’t explode, yell, or visibly show my frustration–I just think I mask it more, and my calm is needed in order to provide a safe nervous system for Miles.

I think it’s been successful if I’ve managed to get Miles to go somewhere each day. I savor each thing we do, soaking in Miles’s excitement and reactions, because tomorrow we may not be able to leave the room. Miles has eaten at two new restaurants and loved the experience, which is a HUGE success! We even have one of these restaurants at home, which may mean we can leave the house more!

The hardest part for me is managing everyone’s emotions. Two young boys, my husband, and my own emotions. I don’t even try to take on the burden of everyone else’s emotions–I just absorb them like a sponge. My senses are sharp–I process every facial expression, groan/grunt, sigh, and posture change. Then my brain goes into overdrive trying to interpret all of this nonverbal communication and begin problem-solving. I am often problem-solving before my husband even has sorted out how he actually feels. It is a full sensory experience that is DRAINING. I feel like those ants that carry 10 times their own bodyweight. Here I am, with insanely complex emotions and processing myself, carrying the emotional weight of my two sons and husband. And who crowned me in charge of keeping everyone happy? Absofucking no one–just myself. No rhyme or reason, not even an intentional action on my part–I. just. can’t. help. it. My therapist tells me, “stop making life so comfortable for those around you.” I ask, “okay, but how do I stop–I’m not consciously choosing this.” The really deep question for another day is what I am getting by doing this, and what I lose if I stop. Ew, that one is sticky to think about.

So, let’s send some positive vibes for my next 3 days of vacation. And more importantly, for the return to reality after that.