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I May Not Survive Adolescence. I Mean My Sons’.

3

February 27, 2012 by Marj Hatzell

You all know I don’t get much sleep around here.

So naturally, after a busy morning helping my mom I went home on Thursday, ready to climb under the covers. I gobbled down some lunch, crept under the covers and Zzzzzzzz…and woke up two seconds later to the phone ringing. Since we have this talking caller ID thingy (I KNOW) I could hear who was calling.

Bug Boy’s school. Figures, right?

Now, in the beginning of this school year I was getting tons of calls. Every darn day he had a headache, stomach ache, etc. In other words, at 1pm every single day he needed a sensory break or was overwhelmed and needed a break. New school nurse (he did this the past four years to our previous two school nurses it they had his number, yo) and new year so new attempts at coming home to spend time with Mommy. This is why I don’t homeschool, y’all. Well, that and he’d be hacking into the White House Security System if he had that much time at home.

Anywho, he was sick. Ear infection, sinus infection, throat infection, breathing and O2 sucked so home with the nebulizer and Antibiotics we go. And he was SICK. Which meant he had it for at least a few days without saying a word.

Sigh. Part of the fun with Autism. High pain threshold plus expressive communication delays equals him puking on the floor on my feet in the middle of a conversation with absosmurfly no warning. Just another day at Casa DG.

So he stayed home sick Friday which meant he had to be my Shadow for the day and I couldn’t go into the bathroom without WHERE ARE YOUUUUUU. And for someone who really and truly needs that quiet time during the day, it is difficult to adjust to. Which meant he had to come to my weekly chiro/massage appointment. Where he offers his opinion on everything I talk to the massage therapist about, even if I let him bring his iPod,.

Anyways, I needed that massage. As I walked into the room (he waits outside while I disrobe) and climbed under the warm white sheet on the table, I was trying to get into zen mode. I relaxed, listened to the music and waited for the therapist and Bug Boy to come in. I closed my eyes for a second,just in time for the music to change and it started to play…

Canon in D

You know, the one that makes me stabby? I wrote about it at my other day job, Aiming Low.. Go there now and read it. I’ll wait.

Are you back? There. Now you know.

I really needed to relax during that massage, because right now my life is full of, “But Moooooom!” and *eyeroll* and, “My room IS clean!”. And let’s not forget, “what do you mean I can’t have ninety hours of video game time this weekend? I did TOO earn it! I fed the dogs! “. But the Queen Mother of them all is, ” ZOMG YOU ARE THE WORST MOTHER EVER!!!!111!!! ELEVENTY!”

You know, until we got him that used copy of Skyrim.

Dear Flying Spaghetti Monster, he’s eleven. I may not last until eighteen. Never mind the fact that nonverbal, sweet Bugaboo now stomps to his room and SLAMS HIS DOOR.

I am so in for it.

20120227-155309.jpg

Moooom you are so lame with this picture. And this haircut? UGH! WORST MOMMY EVERRR.

 

3 thoughts on “I May Not Survive Adolescence. I Mean My Sons’.

  1. Cori Hobart says:

    Wow! So sorry things are so tough right now, but man your posts are so encouraging to me! We might be long-lost sisters??? At least I can relate…with the overwhelmed with life and kids stuff… I, too, have kids with special needs. My son, who is also 11, has been diagnosed with PDD-NOS and seems to be the long-lost twin of your son!?!? I hate how annoyed and overwhelmed he makes me feel just by the constant talking, and arguing, and needing, and questioning, and talking, and arguing… I feel like such a bad Mom for how I feel sometimes, but since there’s someone else who feels the same way at times, it can’t be too abnormal, can it? Thank you! 🙂

  2. CallmeSam says:

    I read your blog because I’m a SAHD, with one son diagnosed ASD. Read this one first day of Spring Break, and my wife away for the week in a foreign country.

    Adolescence is something we are more prepared for than parents without SN kids. Hard to imagine worse than almost kicked out of Pre-K. And the entire adolescent thing of non-verbal towards parents? Primed for that.

    And I resoundingly agree with opinions on Pachelbel’s Canon in D. The worst version is the Christmas one: children forced to sing falsetto “On this night, on this night, on this very Christmas night /////…..” Absolutely unnerving. And my two darlings know this and SING ALONG.

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