It's the little things...like suppositories

I caught Case in my bedroom yesterday wielding a pair of scissors he had scored from my bathroom. As soon as he saw me enter the room he came running up to me. "Oh, HERE YOU GO!" in a delightful yelly sing-song voice. This response indicated destruction. I inspected my room, not finding anything. But I know. I'll find it eventually.

We go downstairs and find Charly attempting to draw on furniture with markers. She has a compulsion. Markers are her crack. Drawing on expensive furniture is how she inhales. Ethan Allen would be her drug den. Seriously, what is wrong with three year olds? They are terrible, terrible people. Were we all like this when we were three? She spends more time in her room than inmates do in their cells. And she doesn't care. When I told her the Elf on the Shelf was gonna put her on Santa's shit list (not my exact words), she said "No he won't. I'm just gonna whisper in his ear when you're not looking and tell him what to say to Santa."

Just like my children, my morning routine sucks. I'm still up with Laney at night. It's a total fog. I hear her on the monitor, I go in her nursery, I grab something that might be a bottle, might not be, and shove it in her mouth. I wake up in the morning and can't remember if I was in there 1x, 2x, 3x? It's a total blur. So I stumble around and put things  over my head that might be clothes, and paint my eyes with eyeliner or a Sharpie. Whatever I can find in my purse. And so this morning I'm nearing the end of my routine with the last part involving the all-important curling iron. Otherwise I look like a face with a broom behind it. So I hit the "on" button and nothing happens. That's odd. I look at the outlet. It's plugged in. I hit the reset button. Nothing happens. I look down at the cord. Oh. That's what Case was doing with the scissors. It's cut in half. And wouldn't you know -- today's the day I'm supposed to be on TV. Because of course it is. Thank you, Case. It's always something. Always a little thing I'm not expecting. But this goes for all of us, right? Whether we have kids, or don't, whether they're "neurotypical" (that's "normal" in the autism world), or not.

But good news today -- even though it came out of something bad. Case informed his teacher that his "belly hurt" this morning. Not a big deal for most people, but Case has never really communicated when he doesn't feel well. It's so hard getting him to say what hurts, and so frustrating as a parent because all you want to do is make him feel better but you have no idea where to start. So he's developing some communication tools. And he was in fact sick, and he had to come home from school. Which is how I ended up inserting a suppository into his rectum this evening. First time I've ever had that honor. And he insisted on watching Netflix while we did this ("Netflix and Pill). So I've got a blue rubber glove on, and this is all really weird, and I've got him bent over next to the Christmas tree, so that's a nice accessory to this horror show. And Charly is hovering over me trying to watch all this, and she's jumping up and down in a red sparkly dress asking how much this will hurt Case. But he handles it so well. I was expecting some kind of exorcism response. But no. Charly, however, became belligerent after I informed her she could not have a suppository, too. What is wrong with these three year olds?

These little unexpected things make up every day. And they are so damn funny. I get asked all the time how I deal with all this, and I always shudder at that question because I don't want anyone to think that Case has made life hard. Our life is no more difficult than most of yours. Case just made it different. We adapt to him, and it's OK. We all have something, right? We all have big things. And little things. I used to get so unbelievably stressed out by everything. I didn't adapt. I sucked as a mom because I couldn't go with the flow. I wasn't present. I spent all my time thinking about how I could make things better. Now, I celebrate the curling iron cord. I am ecstatic over a suppository situation going well. No more expectations. Just realizations. Does that make sense?