Birthdays and benders...

My daughter had her birthday on Friday.  I mention that because it went pear shaped before she even got out of bed.  Alex beat her to it.  That was problem number one.

Problem number two was that it was not his birthday.  

Before Lizzy even got out of bed, I was hearing, "I hate streamers!  When it's my birthday I don't want any streamers!" He was running through the house tearing down pink and white streamers my mom had stayed up late the night before to put up.  She put up all the decorations at night so when Lizzy woke up, she'd be met with garland and streamers and balloons.

Didn't happen.

Alex was taking them down faster than anything.  Ripping them off the fireplace, trying to pop balloons, smash things, rip streamers and tear the house apart.

I was furious.

"Stop it, stop that right now!  Stop pulling those things down right now!"

"NO, I hate streamers.  When it's my birthday I DON'T WANT ANY STREAMERS!"  He was still running around ripping things down.  We had several more negotiations which were to no avail.  He was not listening, not comprehending.

The abbreviated version...

"Go to your room right now.  NOW!"  Stomping up each and every step, I drug him up.  Furious.  He was furious, I was furious, he was still mumbling under his breath, "I hate streamers.  Hate them.  It's not fair.  I don't like streamers.  I hate you."

By that time, Lizzy was up.  Decorations were down and Alex was stomping around upstairs.

And then nothing was going to go right for him.  He didn't like his socks.  His pants itched.  His food tasted funny.  His fingers felt weird.  And then his shoes.  Oh my fucking God, his shoes.  He couldn't find the right pair and he couldn't possible wear a different pair of the exact same kind of shoe.  Oh no.  He had to have that exact pair, the pair we couldn't find.  Never mind we have replicas of the shoes so this doesn't happen but ohhhh noooo, not today.  Today, this was the hill he was going to die on.

I tired to help him, smacked my elbow on the cabinet so hard I saw stars.  I was furious.  I lashed out and yelled at him, "Now what?  WHAT?  Am I going to have to find your shoes every day?  Huh???  What happens when you're twenty?  What happens then, am I going to have to find your shoes then?  Huh???  Get to the car right now.  NOW.  I've had it."

I was seething.  Furious.  All morning he'd been pushing buttons and I'd had it.  That was the hill I died on.

This was not how Lizzy's birthday was supposed to go.

And then it hit me.  Hit me like a thousand bricks.  This is the way it's going to be with us.  This is how it is.  Autism's in our lives and it's in every part of it, like a nebulous vine, its worked its way into every crack and crevice of our lives.  Every part.  It's just not Alex who has Autism.  It's our whole family.  It affects each and every one of us and it affects us all differently.

And for some reason that bothered me.  Bothered me to the core.  Bothered me that my daughter didn't have a birthday without being affected.  Bothered me that for twenty God-damned minutes in the morning I was trying to redo something it took him less than a few seconds to undo.  Bothered my that he was so bothered.  And most of all?   I was bothered that as a mom, I snapped.

You guys know me, you know I try to put a positive spin on things and for the most part I meet our struggles head on with a good laugh.  I have to.  It's the only way I know to survive.  But.

This has me in a place I don't want to be.  Mad that I lost my shit and mad that I lost it in front of the kids.  Mad that a day I wanted perfect for my little girl, went up in smoke before she was even out of her pajamas.

This is the part of Autism that most people don't talk about, the part where we struggle, where we cry, get angry or we just need a break.  Where, as a parent, I can say it never ends.  I wouldn't be telling the truth if I only shared the good.  Well, this is it, this is the side that makes me want to scream for the hills and scream a slew of cuss words so loud they could hear me in hell and be afraid.

I know he's struggling and I know he's upset.  I know this is the start of school and we're all maxed-out.  I know that, I get it.  But there are days where it all gets to be too much and I don't like it.

This was one of those days.

I only wanted one day.  One damn day.


Note: I'm still in a funk and I'm working my way out of it.  Please know, I love my son, I do.  There are times when I don't love everything that comes with Autism, not to admit that would be a lie.  I'm not trying to devalue anyone who is one the Spectrum or who has Autism, I'm simply saying that there are days when this is hard, really really hard.  

Birthdays, brats and just for fun--a little bit of snow.

My sweet little baby girl turned two yesterday.  Having an older brother and sister she's been in the terrible two's for a good nine months now.  Always desperate to keep up and not one to be left behind she's the one we've rushed to the Emergency Room, picked up out of the ocean and nursed multiple head wounds.  

All because she's the one the other two use as a toy when they get bored.  They have, in no particular order:

• Stuffed her in a blanket, rolled her up like a burrito and then flung her down the hallway to see how far she'd go.  In case any of you are wondering, two feet.    
• Pushed her down the slide outside and watched to see how high she'd bounce when she hit bottom.  They were not happy with the initial bounce so they added items of various thickness to see if it would give her "loft" as Alex called it.  Beach towels gave the most height.  According to Alex, a plank of wood was no different than the ground.  Always good to know.
• Tried to feed her regular milk and cheese to "see what would happen."  Gracie's lactose intolerant.  She puked.  
• Climbed into her crib and tried to shoot her out of it by bouncing the hell out of it.  Then they tried to see if they could get the crib mattress to fit under the slide outside.  It apparently has some really good bouncing ability.
• Painted her finger and toe nails "hooker red" and then proclaimed to the free world, "We have a hooker in the house!  We have a hooker here!"  Yeah, I'll own that.  That was all me.   

Generally speaking she's aged me faster than any of the other kids combined.  

Gracie multitasking.  Yeah, the penguin
back there is in time out.  

Happy Birthday little one.  Your mama loves you and the other two think you're way better than having a dog.  As Lizzy summed it up, "I like her cuz we don't have to walk her and clean up her poop.  You do all of that." 

Cake.
Walmart style.  

On a totally unrelated note we had our first snowfall.

Dropping the kids off to school I slid down the street into oncoming traffic only to hear Lizzy exclaim, "Woooaaa!!  Woo Hoo!!!  Mom, that was great!!!  Can we do that again?!?"

And to hear Alex say, "Mom, did you realize you were in direct violation of about three safety rules?"  He never even bothered to look up from his I-touch.

Snow balls.
How can you not say that and get a giggle?
Go on, say it.
See???

I took a picture of our snow after I damn near killed all of us and calmed my ass down.

That would have been around noon.


Note: I have to thank Tulpen for the use of the words, "snow balls."  She mentioned a prolific use of balls in her Christmas decorations this year and I believe in giving credit where credit's due.  She's over at Bad Words and I love her writing.   


And the cake was five dollars cheaper at Walmart than at Target.  I hauled my ass to Walmart and snapped that thing right up.  I even sported for the sugar letters instead of having Granny back in the bakery write on it.  Cuz seriously, who wants to tempt fate like that?    

See, this is why birthdays aren't all rainbows and ponies.

Oh my frigging Lord.  It was Alex's birthday Saturday.  And in his mind that meant the sun was going to rise and set with him and he was master of our little universe.  We've been working up to this most holiest of holy days since last week and I knew, just knew, it was going to go pear-shaped.

And it did.  Let's work backwards, shall we???

Thursday:  He wanted brownies for his birthday treat at school.  Not store bought, had to be home-made by mom.  Check.  Brownies made and delivered.

Friday:  He wanted a chocolate cake with chocolate icing.  Also had to be home-made.  Check.  Spent all day making the damn thing and all day the day before making the damn brownies but check.  I made them.  And not to be outdone, Lizzy wanted a WHITE cake.  Homemade.  And I made that and checked it of my list too.

Friday:  He wanted a bouncy house.  Yeah.  A full fledged bouncy house that's like 50 by 100 feet and needs a small generator to run.  Um, yeah.  No.

But then the requests got more and more elaborate.

"I want to eat Pho for dinner."  Pho is this Vietnamese soup that takes like four hours to make.  Read: its a total pain in the ass.

"And then I want Spring Rolls too."  The spring rolls take an additional three hours to make.  Read: an even bigger pain in the ass.

Seeing how it was the day before his birthday and I needed to go to the Asian store to get all the supplies I was starting to get a little short of breath.  There was not enough time.

"And I want to go to Power Play in the afternoon."  Power Play is a kids zone that has bouncy houses and other stuff like shoot-em-up games, mini-roller coasters and a pizza place.

"And I want to go to Tae Kwon Do in the morning."

"And can I open a present now?"

"No, you may not open a present.  It's not your birthday yet.  We need to talk about how all of this is going to play out tomorrow hon, I'm not sure we can do ALL the stuff you want in one day.  Maybe we can eat something else for dinner?"

And then it happened.  Pear-shaped.  He had a huge meltdown Friday night.  I had hoped that Saturday would be a new day and his bad temper would pass.  It did not.

Saturday he woke up saying:  "It's my birthday.  I WANT PHO FOR DINNER.  If I can't then fine, FINE.  I'm going to take all the decorations down and NOT HAVE MY BIRTHDAY.  IF I CAN'T HAVE ANY FUN THEN NO-ONE ELSE WILL HAVE ANY FUN EITHER.  No-one else is going to have fun on MY birthday.  IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!  ARGGGG!!!"

And all the screaming, crying, yelling, hitting, kicking, stomping and banging ensued.  Along with all the streamers and other party decorations being un-ceremoniously yanked off the walls and torn to bits.  BITS.

And that right there is why we have every dresser, bookshelf and large object bolted to the walls in our house.  Had they not been secured, they would have come crashing down.  I am sure of it.

Its amazing how strong a newly minted eight year old can be.

Anyway, I'm not proud to say this but here it is: I snapped.

I yelled back at him something along the lines of, "I know its your birthday.  I get it.  But there are other people in this family.  Our world does not revolve around you.  You want to have a bad day?  Then FINE, have a bad day.  You want ME to have a bad day?  Well FINE, I'm having a bad day.  I'M HAVING SUCH A BAD DAY, I'M LEAVING.  LEAVING.  Your plan to have a bad day worked.  IT WORKED.  Are you happy now???"

And with that, I left.  Left him standing there in total shock, crying and not understanding anything other than I had snapped like a twig on his birthday.

I went for a run.  I damn near killed myself but I ran.  Ran from everything in the house.  Ran from him.  Ran from Autism and ran from everything that I wanted for him that didn't happen.  And most of all, I ran from myself.  Ran from my shitty temper, my anger and my own expectations I had for the day.  I ran.

And then I came back.

And we went to Tae Kwon Do.

And we went to Power Play.  We ate their horrible pizza, minus the cheese, with sauce on the side.

And we bounced in the bouncy house till I thought we were going to see the pizza again.

And OH MY GOD, they have Wheel of Fortune.  THEY HAVE WHEEL OF FORTUNE!!!

And lockers.  THEY HAVE LOCKERS!  LOOK MOM THEY HAVE LOCKERS!!!

And we had Pho.  And cake.  And presents.  No spring rolls though.  I know he knows we didn't have them but he didn't say anything.

And at the end of the day, the sun and moon did rise and set with my little boy, in our little universe.

Happy Birthday little one.

Happy Birthday.


 

So you say it's your birthday?

It's my birthday too.  No.  Really.  It was my birthday yesterday.  On 9/11.  I was born first.

See?  I have the cakes to prove it.  Why do you ask, do I have three cakes?  Its simple really.  Alex only likes chocolate cake with chocolate icing.  Lizzy only like white cake with white icing.  And Gracie?  Well, we don't know what the hell kind of cake she likes but based on the other two, I can pretty much guarantee she won't get near a chocolate or white cake.  That's why she had a red velvet cake.

See?  Perfectly simple explanation.
 

But first, before we had all that cake love, I had to go on a scavenger hunt for all my presents.  That too has a pretty simple explanation.  When Alex was younger and after all his presents were opened he sat and looked at us and sighed, "Wait. What?  That's it?!?"  Like we had let him down big time.  So now on the kids Birthdays I make up a scavenger hunt and every once and a while I put a present in with the card and they get all excited.  At the end is their biggest present and they love it.

See???  Perfectly simple explanation.

I had to go to 20 different places in the
house, how good of them.  

Except this time I had to do one of my own scavenger hunts to claim my presents.  Some of those cards have my own handwriting on them.  Alex told me he learned all about recycling in school so he saved them from Lizzy's birthday in August.

Then they kicked me out of the house to put balloons and streamers all over the place.  That's why I have a picture of these two horribly freaky little boys.

Again, a simple explanation.  When they kicked me out I went to the antique mall.  Don't these two just freak your shit?  Not only that, but they cost $2,985.  I know, it's ridiculous.  I bet that includes their ghosts, you know, free of charge.  Those boys could see me from every corner of the antique mall and made my skin crawl.  Even now they're staring at me.  Taunting me, the little one on the left whispering, "I ate his brains, now I'm going to eat yours too."  

But after all the running around, it dawned on me.  They were giving me what they liked best about their Birthdays--the scavenger hunts, the balloons and streamers all over the house and their favorite cakes.  All the things that I have been doing for them for their Birthdays, for years.

And this year they returned the favor.

And that was the best present of all.


Note: After this post goes up for a few days, I'm taking down the picture of those two kids and getting rid of any evidence of them.  I want them out of my house, even if they're only on my computer.  I so wish I could un-see them and get them out of my brain.  They freak me out that much.  

My daughter is a master manipulator, drama queen and I can not stop cracking up...

So it was my daughter's sixth birthday.  She woke up like a little princess and came down the stairs like a fairy floating on air.  Weightless.  A thing of beauty.  A wonder to behold.

And then she started talking.

"Mom, it's my Birthday!!!  That means I get to stay home from school?  Right?"  She's all super excited and is  wearing her party dress.  Her hands running down the sides of it so the layers underneath crush and poof back out.  

"Um, yeah, about school.  Hon, you still have to go to school today.  Mrs. Abram's has all sorts of great stuff planned for your birthday.  You can't let her down, can you?  It's going to be great and I'll stop by at lunch to eat with you."

"Mom, my throat hurts...."

"What?!?"

"Mom, it really hurts.  I can't swallow.  It hurts really bad."  And just like that she starts sobbing and drooling and acting like she's dying.

Anyway, the rest of the morning routine went out the window and, don't call social services here, but I hauled my little drama queen out of the house, into the car and stuffed her in her classroom all the while complaining she was going to die.

I'm not home from school for more than thirty minutes before I get a call from the school nurse telling me Lizzy's in her office complaining of a sore throat.  I told her what happened this morning and we both got a good laugh and she turfed her back to the classroom.

Then I go into see her at lunch.  Her teacher sees me and tells me how she thinks Lizzy's really sick and should go home.  She even tried to get her to color and she just started sobbing and exclaiming how her thorat was killing.

And I'm all like, "Really??  You think she's sick??"

And her teacher's all, "I think she may need to go home, she doesn't look good and she's just so upset.  Poor thing.  And on her birthday."

And I'm still all, "Really?  We're talking about Lizzy, right??  You're buying all of that, all the tears and boo-hoo-ing??  How bout I go eat with her and see what's going on?"

So, in good faith I went over and had lunch with Lizzy.  And here's what Lizzy had to say:

"Mom, it's so great!!  It's my Birthday and I told Mrs Abram I didn't want to color and I started to cry and I GOT TO MEET THE SCHOOL NURSE!!!!!  She's so neat!  And then I came back to the classroom and I didn't have to do any of my work when I started crying again.  I'm soooo hungry.  Can you open my ketchup?  Thanks so much for Wendy's for my Birthday!  I bet I won't have to do anything if I keep crying.  This is the best day ever!!!!"

She's saying all of this while stuffing in four chicken nuggets and a handful of fries in her mouth.  It reminded me of one of those contests where someone stuffs as many cigarettes in their mouth as they can.

"OK, lets back up here, honey.  Does your throat hurt?  At all???"

"Huh?  What??  No, I'm hungry.  Can I open my presents when I get home?"

And that is the true story of how my daughter played her teacher like a violin on the fifth day of school, on her Birthday.