March 29, 2010 by Marj Hatzell
I shouldn’t be so negative (because, like, it’s totally not me to be negative and pessimistic. Could be because I’m all hormonal and stuff.) but it’s barely been four days of Spring Break and I already want to cry.
Drenching Rains and accompanying mud from dogs (one extra)? Check.
Multiple children in my house during deluge? Check.
Child who has dumped crap on the floor, escaped several times, tried to jump out of the car and destroyed and broke sh*t? CHECK, CHECK, CHECK. And that was just in the first two hours.
Let’s see. How about we add in the fact that Bugaboo has wet the bed every night for a week? Because he wakes up and instead of getting out of bed to go, he turns over to his stomach and pulls out his…ahem, little firehose and goes on the bed. Or better yet, he climbed into MY BED after wetting HIS bed, and I changed him and he went back to sleep, only to wake up completely saturated from the waist down . Which soaked through to the quilt, all sheets and the blanket on my bed. And the pillows. Thank heaven for waterproof bed pads, eh?
By the end of the week I will be weary. I’ll be exhausted (no naps) and run ragged. There will be piles of laundry and dishes to do. And piles of laundry and dishes to put away. And dishes and laundry. Did I mention the laundry? This girl is totally buying paper plates. My family can tell you I am ANTI PAPER PRODUCTS but this week I suddenly realized the reason people use them. To preserve what’s left of their sanity!
Wanna know what’s even better? Bug Boy’s violin lessons. He’s actually doing quite well. He likes to practice and he wants me sitting next to him to listen to every screechy, nails-on-a-chalkboard note. And I don’t mind it. Except for the part where he learned HOT CROSS BUNS. If you ever took a music lesson you know what I mean. It’s the same three notes. Over and over. And over. AND OVER AND OVER. It’s repetitive! But even better? Bugaboo has learned to hum it. Bugaboo. My child who doesn’t talk? Non-verbal Bugaboo? He’s apparently a music savant. He has incredible musical memory. He’ll hear something from WEEKS ago (like a theme song from a tv show he’s heard only once) or months ago (Christmas music) and we’ll be walking around, say, Tarzhay? And he’ll begin humming? And my husband and I look at each other and say, “Is he humming…naaahhhh.” and we continue to shop and we hear it again. And then again. And then for the next two days. If you know anything about Autistic kids you know that sometimes they have this phenomenon called Echolalia? Which is fancy-schmancy talk for, “THE KID WON’T STOP SAYING IT FOR HOURS.” (Which we kinda suspected, since once he said, “SH*T” for two hours after I dropped a whole chicken and my dogs got it. ) Well, we’re lucky enough to have, “The Kid Who Hums the Same Song for Days.” Not too annoying. Just sayin’. This will all be fine, of course, if he’s one of those kids that sits down at the piano at the age of nine and suddenly plays Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro. He already hums The Magic Flute, so this isn’t entirely far-fetched. They can make a movie out of it. My only request is that some really hot redheaded chick plays me (like Amy Adams. Or Christina Hendricks. Because she has awesome…eyes.).