Morning madness

my morning began with 5:30am wake up call from my 5 yr old. He was screaming (yes, I said screaming), his brother’s name. However, thankfully, this particular morning, A. was in our room sleeping after falling asleep reading his favorite books last night. So I leapt out of bed and ran to quiet G. He was wet and needed a nappy change. But he was also awake and that was that.

So we got up! I made coffee, mixed his yogurt up with his medicine for constipation…just a part of our journey! He ate and I went to the bathroom while I had the chance. But no. Next thing I hear is G screaming A’s name in MY room to wake him!!! Leaping up, I ran into the room shooshed A back to sleep and directed G back to his yogurt. Then I washed my hands. Because things don’t always get done in the order you would like as a parent.

The morning went ok after that. Until. Always until.

Until G had to go catch his ride with the district van. “First socks, then Mack” I repeated. Finally he gets out the door and I head in.

I take a quick breathe in and exhale out mentally noting it could have been much more difficult getting him out the door…like yesterday when I had to chase him and pick him up kicking and screaming.

A is into writing which is a miracle!!! He’s trying so hard to write his own comics and draw his pictures. He focuses for an hour sometimes. He works on it between activities. He is proud!!! We are proud!!!

Until. First timer goes off. Need to brush teeth! Nastiness ensues as he is not ready to transition from writing and drawing in his book to the day ahead. I ask how much more does he need to do? Does it have to be now or can it be worked on after school??? Those of you who have ASD kiddos already know the answer.

I announce I’m brushing my teeth. Hoping to influence him. It kind of works. I hear him running to do just that a couple minutes later.

He’s proud of himself for this decision and I praise him. Then it’s second timer…socks and shoes time!

All is well and then…limping like he’s broken his toe he comes whining after me.

It’s not a broken toe, nothing is hurt on him. It’s the sock. It isn’t right. In the meantime, I e managed to cut my index finger quite deep and am trying to stop the bleed and throbbing whilst not passing out and trying to coach him into fixing this problem himself.

A little attitude but he’s discovered the problem! An extra long bit of thread! He wants me to fix it but I’m preoccupied with my finger. I tell him he can fix it himself. Just get his scissors out and cut the thread. He does. Then he keeps cutting other “loose threads” and before the words to stop are formed, he’s done what I knew would happen the moment I suggested he fix it himself!

Hole in his Yoda socks. I try to coach him, is this a big deal? Big problem small problem? What can we do?? Suggest a different pair of socks…it’s all too late. Meltdown has begun. Panic rising as the reality of his ruined sock sinks on and he begins betraying himself.

So the battle for him to put on a different pair begins. I try to remain calm. It’s so hard. My finger is literally throbbing and stinging and I have it over my head with ice and multiple bandages…putting pressure on makes it worse…he’s beginning gain momentum.

A new pair of socks are now in his mouth as he bites them in frustration because he can’t get these on himself so easily. He’s managed one but the other isn’t “right.” I try with one hand to help cinch up the toe but the second I touch him (barely) he’s screaming I’ve hurt him and accidentally pinched him. I have not. He saw this in his head happening though so to him it is real.

I walk away. He manages. Somehow. Then,

“I’m ready to go to school!”

I’ll spare you the chaos after that…in the end, we managed to get to school. He still gave me my hug and kisses…I could see the tiny fractures forming on his face that I know so well now. He was going to fall apart again. And again. Over everything and nothing. Today was going to be tough. He knows it too. He knows himself.

So I catch my kisses and smile as bravely as I can waving goodbye. I turn to go home. My own fractures are beginning to show. I need to get home and I need to fall apart. I won’t though. I rarely do. I keep going. I pick up the messes left behind. I throw away the ruined socks hoping he forgets them yet knowing he never will. Ever.

Most mornings are like this in some way. Minus the injured finger I have this morning.

This is just a glimpse of our life with autism. Some may think it’s my parenting…maybe…partially.

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Author: Vic.E.

I am a Mom. I am a Caregiver. I am an Advocate. I get paid in unconditional love, in progress and by the amazing support of my very hard-working husband who is the greatest Dad to our two boys. Our first child came in 2011. He was orange haired and big, 9.5lbs…yikes! He was a butter ball. Just perfect and delicious! His eyes came out green like Momma’s and his skin tone white with freckles like Dad’s. He will be taller than both of us, over 6’ according to the trajectory of his health chart! He has his great grandfathers build. He is smart, has an amazing memory, is super creative, and is sensitive, so empathetic. He is my first born and just perfect. He is also diagnosed with Autism-mild, ADHD, Anxiety, dyslexia, possible dysgraphia and possible other things…really, just all things to help him get the supports he needs to thrive in life. At his core, he is who he is. Full of silly laughter, big smiles, a warm heart, intense loyalty, a strong justice gene, and a fundamental belief in the good. My second and last child, was born in 2013. The boys are a year and a half apart. He was born looking like an old man. Poor kid was induced early, for fear of another large infant and my ignorance I had a say. He had the umbilical chord wrapped around him and was blue as can be. He recovered fine though, no need for oxygen or anything. But he was checked on a lot to be sure. His skin would be tan like mine, but he won’t go outside much in the daylight. His eyes are closer to Dad’s and his Gran’s (my husband’s mom)…hazel green/dark blue. He has moles rather than freckles, but other than the should be darker skin and moles, he looks just like his Dad. A little mini-me of my husband. Same sandy dark blond hair, same darker eyes, same features. His body is more like my husbands as well. However, he is due to grow over 6’ and will most likely be taller than his big brother! He had a level 4 tongue tie. Something I thought would stretch and break on it’s own. I was a naturalist momma. Keep those sharp objects away from my babies!!! He was able to nurse just fine, and we got to take him home. He was diagnosed first, his symptoms were classic…development fine and then massive regression. He was around a year old when we noticed. The doctor at my other son’s check up saw it, and referred us to an “evaluation” which I did not understand at the time. Anyhow. He is Severe-Autism, ADHD, non-verbal. Although, 10 years on, I don’t like that term for him. He chats all the time, mostly scripts, mostly needs and wants. Rarely anything novel comes out, but when it does it is brief, but magical!!! He progresses every day. My life went from social to isolation pretty quick. Other’s noticed the differences with our kids, my youngest was unsafe to take out for years. So, here are our stories. Jumbled up, in reflection, looking forward, retrospective. I try to write about our progress, our hopes and show the raw side of living a life in a house of neurodivergence. You are not alone, we are many. It’s time we showed ourselves to the world and stopped hiding our kiddos away. They deserve to be celebrated, included, loved.

2 thoughts on “Morning madness”

    1. Thank you. Not one of us has the same reality, no two kids are the same and that’s the only commonality. I find a bit of validation and comfort in the small portions that are similar with others. Makes the vastness if it all seem a bit less overwhelming. If for just a moment!

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