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Saturday, April 23, 2011

Potty, please

"Can I tell you what?" It isn't even 9am. Younger son and I are side-by-side on the sofa. "If I were a starfish, I would TOTALLY want to ice skate! That would be so rad!"

Chat. Chat. Chatchatchatchatchatchat.

Note to self: must charge iPod nightly. I am once again a captive audience.

Chatchatchatchatchatchatchatchat. I need to take my brain to a better place. Somewhere peaceful. Some place I'd love to be, where I'm so motivated to stay that I cannot fall prey to his constant chatter. And, all I can come up with is bed. I want sleep. I'll just let my brain take a little nap while I click away on these keys.

It's true. I'm only half here. Spring "Break" is coming to an end and so is my sanity. Our older son does not remember how to sleep through the night. He's visibly uncomfortable in his skin, twitching and twisting his body. He doesn't want much to do with us, and I don't blame him. Much about the world is offensive to him right now. He's just trying to make it through this week as well.

But, seriously, MUST we deal with toileting regression every break? On one hand, I am sorry to mention an indelicate topic, but on the other hand, what about autism IS delicate?

I think I have cleaned human waste from just about every room in this house. Our older son is not a baby. He's nine. The size of the accidents is substantial. And, it doesn't help matters that he has never had a formed bowel movement in his life.

Gone are the natural cleaners. Forget about being environmentally friendly. Bleach is my friend. And, may God bless the fellow sped mom who came calling to my house yesterday with her wet and dry vacuum!

Some people living with autism lack the sensory awareness to feel the need to toilet until it is right upon them. This is what happens to our son during his breaks from school and his therapies. Often, children with autism are late to train, particularly at night. Complex cases may never gain that skill. Our son was day trained at the age of six. He is still not trained at night. For a kid his size, that means lots of wet bed sheets.

It's about time to get back into the trenches for the day. While I'm at work, I'm going to start choreographing my happy dance for when those joyous yellow school buses arrive Monday morning. Truthfully, I might have to fight the urge to kiss the driver and aide before they drive away.

I'll be the first to admit, I can't do this alone.

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