So I may or may not have BURST into tears today. In church. In the second row. In front of everyone. I don't typically cry in public- and this wasn't a case of the misties. This was suck in my breath- snot oozing- torso shaking crying. I did not have a tissue. Yes, the one time I choose to sit in the front away from any sort of exit or the box of tissues next to the organ. One of our retired revs preached today, and he told a story about him mimicking a guy in seminary who today would have been most definitely diagnosed as autistic. I'm really not doing Fred's storytelling abilities justice here, but let's just say it affected me. It was like a wave of relief and reality hit me at the same time and I couldn't breathe. Someone was talking about something I think about everyday. From the pulpit. In that moment I felt like I could finally stop holding my breath and pretending that everything is ok. Don't get me wrong, I am so grateful to be where we are now with Isaac compared to where we were. But things still aren't ok. There are some things about daily life with a kid on the spectrum that just break your heart as a parent.
Isaac requested pizza for dinner tonight, so I made him some homemade gfcf pizza. When he was almost done with the first piece I asked him if it was good. His reply? "Scary dragon!" Ok, let's try rephrasing the question. "Is your pizza yummy?" "Scary dragon!" Sigh...looks like someone is on a different channel than the one I'm watching. One last attempt..."Do you like your pizza?!" My finger is pointing at the plate. I'm even talking slowly and loudly- as if he's deaf. "Scary dragon, mommy!" "Yes, the painting of the dragon on the wall on Bob the Builder was scary. Yep. You're right." Good thing I caught that scene in the Bob the Builder movie today or I would really have no idea what he was referring to. I had to walk away at that point. It's not just that it's frustrating when his mind is somewhere else- it kind of hurts. It made me realize why getting on the boat is so hard for some people. No one wants to look at their baby and think "this isn't quite what I pictured this would be like." It makes you feel guilty to admit that- even if you have a right to feel that way. What should be a really simple exchange of words with my 3.5 year old is anything but. He can't tell me that he likes his pizza because he's fixated on one scene from a show he watched two hours earlier.
Later we were doing bed time routine. We read books and then I ushered him into the bathroom to brush his teeth and go potty one last time. Not according to my plan Isaac informs me that he has to poop. That's great, buddy, squeeze it out. We're a little behind schedule tonight. "Small poop, mommy. Small poop, mommy!"
"Yes, I see the small poop. Are you done?"
"Small poop! Small poop! Small poop!"
"Yes, I see the small poop. Do you need a wipe?"
"Small poop, mommy."
"Yes. It's a small poop. Are you all done?" Mommy's a little tired. She bawled in church today. Cleaned the house with daddy. Made an impressive cajun fish and linguine with clam sauce dinner in addition to the pizza you can't talk about. And would like to sit down in silence and read.
"Nope. I'm POOPING."
"Ok. Let me know when you're done." I walk out of the room for 1.5 minutes to give him some privacy. I walk back in to find him digging poop out of his butt with his pointer finger- unfazed. It is smeared all over his butt. Looks like you're getting that bath you wanted.
Just another day in the Loucks house. = )