​Autism and police. Two words that alone may not sound worrisome, but, for parents of autistic individuals, those words together can strike terror in our hearts.
 
A recently released Arizona police officer’s body cam video of an incident with a young autistic teenager named Connor, has been filling up social media streams as well as national news this week and has made the words “autism” and “police” very real for parents loving a son or daughter with autism. The video was horrifying, heartbreaking and very, very troubling. And as much as my heart aches for young Connor and his family, I do not think this officer acted out of malice. I believe this officer acted out of ignorance which is why we must do more.
 
More training. Police officers and emergency responders must have, at the very minimum, a basic understanding of what autism is and how to identify an individual with autism. This officer mistook Connor’s “stimming” behavior as an individual under the influence of drugs and reacted as he was trained for someone who was high, not someone who was autistic, because most police officers do not receive autism training.
 
More awareness. Police officers must become aware that although many individuals with autism may present with similar behaviors, such as stimming, they must be aware that each individual with autism is unique. Parents must help police understand the uniqueness of their child by sharing some of their child’s sensitivities, fears, triggers and behaviors before an interaction occurs.
 
More advocacy. Many parents loving a child with autism, already have their plates full with therapies, IEP meetings and the normal day to day occurrences of life, but, one meeting with your local law enforcement to advocate for your child may make the difference between a positive and a negative police interaction.
 
More time. Police officers often have to make split second decisions that do not afford them the time to determine if an individual they are approaching does or does not have autism, so parents must take the time to teach their child (if they are verbal), to say, “I have autism” or have some type of autism identifier on their person if they are not able to communicate their diagnosis.

More patience. If a police officer is aware or suspects an individaul may be autistic, be patient and give that person time to respond to your requests or demands. It may take longer for them to process what you are asking of them.

More work. More work must be done between the law enforcement community and the autism community in order to keep everyone safer by having a better understanding of one another.  
 
More acceptance. Police and parents must accept that they both have a role to play to keep individuals with autism safe.
 
Police must do more.
We as parents must do more.
​More must be done because our children deserve nothing less.

My kids tell me that I worry “too much”. My husband knows that I worry “too much” and my friends tell me not to worry “too much”. I’m also pretty sure my son’s teachers, guidance counselors and doctors have a voodoo doll of me that they stick with pins when I worry “too much”, but, how do I know what is “too much"? Is there some secret formula for worrying the right amount? If so, everyone should know that I got a D in high school chemistry so even if you know the formula and share it with me, chances are I will still blow something up.
 
Yes, I know we are the generation of helicopter mothers. We circle around hovering just over the tops of our kids’ heads, keeping an eye out for incomplete homework, school yard bullies, and the latest apps to make sure our kids are safe and happy. And I know that as a parent, there comes a time when we are supposed to either land that damn helicopter in some field and open a bottle of wine and relax, or at the very least, circle around our kids' heads with less frequency and at a significantly higher elevation, but, when your child has an autism diagnosis, or any kind of different ability, it’s hard to helicopter from a distance.
 
I have tried, oh believe me, I have tried. There have been times when I felt safe landing my helicopter in that grassy field with a bottle of cabernet and not a care in the world, and just as I’m ready to take a sip, I receive that call, that email or that text that reminds me, first of all, to turn my freaking phone off when I’m sipping wine and second, there is no time for landing (and certainly no time for wine). "Ryan didn't turn in his paper that was due three days ago." "Ryan spent the entire time at recess by the door waiting to go back inside." "The boys on the bus are taking Ryan's Angry Birds key chains and teasing him." Worrying too much Mom sets down her wine glass, fires up the helicoptor and the hovering resumes (as she fights the temptation to drop water balloons from the helicoptor on the bus bullies' heads).

Then there were times when I thought  that this moment, this situation, this event was going to be “too much”, so I hovered right over his head, only to have him shoot me and my helicopter down with his desire and ability to prove to me that it was not “too much” so please hover elsewhere. "I can handle it." "You don't trust me." "Your worry too much." And he did, and I didn't and I do.

I can’t seem to worry, or hover, "just right".
 
A new school year recently started, so I gassed up the helicopter and the too much hovering began. I hovered low, right above my son’s head until I found the just right lunch box, the just right shoes, and the just right gray not any other color except blue as long as it’s the right shade of blue Hollister tshirt, and the just right cargo shorts. I then hovered with my son as we picked out the just right binders, pencils, pens and notebooks and sent him off to his second year of high school praying it would be a just right kind of year. After only three days of extreme worrying and hovering, he yelled, “You don’t trust me! Please don't worry too much" so, I landed my helicopter, grabbed a bottle of wine and thought, ok, he’s got this.

As I watched him walk down the street to the bus stop, I thought to myself, maybe it's time to decommission this old, tired, worried helicoptor and finally open that wine. Maybe I do worry "too much" and it's time to relax a little bit. Maybe my hovering days are coming to an end and it's time to let him handle things on his own.
 
Then one email from this teacher and one discussion with that teacher and with my guilt ridden heart and red wine stained lips, I gassed up the decommissioned helicopter ready to head out the door, flight jacket in hand and Ryan stopped me. “I’ve got this”, he said, and he did. He admitted to not reading the Econ assignment, he admitted to missing one day of algebra homework and he admitted he was spending too much time gaming, but, instead of having a meltdown, instead of blaming it on me or someone else, or cursing his life, he looked me right in the eye and told me, “I will fix it”. And he did. Without the helicopter.

I know that worrying "too much" and hovering "too much" is how we try and keep them safe. We want to be right there to throw down our rescue basket and pick them up when they fall. We want to get them to adulthood with as few scars from childhood as we possibly can knowing full well that even when we think we might be able to drink more uninterrupted wine, when we think our helicoptors are too old to be considered safe to fly, and when we think, "they've got this", we will continue to hover from a distance, with text messages, emails, social media and maybe our own Mama Drones that can fly over them from time to time to see if it's safe to have that second glass of wine.

Autism may make getting back up on his own a little more difficult without helicoptor mom's rescue basket, but, my son has proven time and again, that he can do it, even when I worry "too much" that he can't.

"I've got this", he continues to reassure me. I have no doubt that you do son, but, I still suck at chemistry and landing helicoptors, so chances are, I will always worry and hover a "little" as I continue to annoy you "too much".