I woke up yesterday without much ceremony or issues, changed the twins, toddled about being me. I had a lot of stomach upset however, and without being too graphic - we'll just say it was the House of Tokyo effect and my friends from back in the day will understand completely.
As an adult I'm equipped to emotionally and physically handle such issues with mostly grace although I can admit I had some coffee anyway, knowing full well it would contribute to my situation.
The twins however, did not warn me they didn't feel well. That whole "not communicating" thing is problematic in these areas and they slugged down their share of coffee and right about then the pooping began. And continued. By 10 am I had changed six diapers I would describe as horrific. One was a downright disaster of hazmat proportions. I got them cleaned up and by 1030 am EVERYONE impacted had a healthy dose of immodium to stop the works.
My house, however, smelled like death poop. It smelled like if death had been eating rotten corpses and then had pooped in my living room. I washed my hands repeatedly and still, the house was just ugh, so gross. So I lit my little owl candle melt thingy to bring the wonderful smell of some Middle David smelly good things to life. I poured my self a cup of coffee and sat down to see what's new with Frank and Claire on House of Cards.
The kids were upstairs doing whatever it is they were doing. Louis was off at a Boy Scout thing, he'd been gone since the day before and my world is always worse without him however I had managed to wrangle the crazy while my husband got some well deserved sleep.
It was quiet. I watched one then two episodes of House of Cards, and I marveled more than once at how the kids hadn't ever come downstairs, it was unlike them. Our stairs creak MADLY however so no one can really sneak anywhere around here.
Diaper issues can be so frustrating. You don't expect to be changing horrible diapers when your kids are 11 but here I am. I'd lie and say I don't resent it but I do fucking resent it a lot. I'm not wired for this whole special needs kid thing. I do, however, love my children. So what that means is that despite the toll it can take on my person many days, I would still do anything for them. These two hours alone with my coffee were resetting me, refocusing me and letting me get my perspective pointed more positively.
That's when Julia came downstairs and said "Ewww, Mom what's in my water cup?"
I wandered into the dining room and looked into her cup, still sitting there since breakfast (I'm lazy, sue me.) I couldn't quite make out what I was seeing in the cup, fleks of something, something....reddish?
That's when my eyes did a cinematographer quality slow sweep into my kitchen where I beheld....WAX.
Wax all over the counter, down the counters, on the stove, on the toaster, on the floor.
FUCKING WAX EVERYWHERE.
My Middle David wax melt with wonderful smell had been gotten into and flicked, smeared and whatever else - all over my kitchen.
This is the pride swallowing siege part of my life. I can't scream. I can't even really punish. I knew who it was before he came down the stairs, covered in wax. It was my Charlie, who loves the smell of these scented wax melts so much he can NEVER resist putting his hands into them, thus they can never be used without total supervision. I thought I had achieved that because they were upstairs and I was downstairs and seriously HOW did he come downstairs, flick WAX everywhere and take drinks of Julia's water - depositing wax and then LEAVE? HOW?
There are about 1000 videos and tips on Pinterest and youtube and the WEB in general on how to remove wax. Most of the involve an iron and I am allergic to my iron. Also, I'm not sure where it is. So after having a serious sobbing cry on my kitchen floor I figured out that the low melting point of this wax makes it pretty easy to get up with scalding hot water, never mind the skin on your hands though.
Autism parenting is just too damn hard some days. This was entirely too much to deal with before noon.
Here is my Jerry Maguire quote that in my opinion sums up Autism parenting on so many days.