How About You Change Those Boys?

The girl has been getting her sleep schedule off more and more, of late. She wants to stay up with Daddy after we all go to bed. I get her up early on the weekend, about 8 am usually, and so in theory that gets her back on schedule somewhat.
Yesterday I got her up at about 8 after she stayed up playing and going on second wind until after 2am.

She was remarkably not cranky and fussy all day, shockingly. She even fought me on going to bed. I AM NOT TIRED she declared. I knew that couldn't actually be true. I sent her to snuggle in bed with her big brother so I could stay up and watch Masters of Horror with my husband, as close as we get to a date these days.

This morning however, tucked under my chin, was a little blonde ball of blonde, sucking her thumb and in a deep, slack jawed sleep. I kissed her and said good morning, as I heard the boys stirring and running up & down the hall way. I whispered "Let's get up."

She opened her eyes and said "How about you change those boys first?"

I laughed and slipped out of bed around her. She fell back into dead sleep. I tucked her into bed - and the twins and I had breakfast without her or Louis.

There was a bit of screaming and fit throwing at breakfast when I suggest we NOT spit at the table. However it was isolated to a five minute window. Miles is playing ANGRY BIRDS and Charlie is wandering around flipping a ribbon. Mickey Mouse Clubhouse is on but I might be the only one watching it.

I'm going to go wake her up within the next hour, I am going to let her soak up the snuggly sleep however - I know I wish I could.

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How About You Change Those Boys?

The girl has been getting her sleep schedule off more and more, of late. She wants to stay up with Daddy after we all go to bed. I get her up early on the weekend, about 8 am usually, and so in theory that gets her back on schedule somewhat.
Yesterday I got her up at about 8 after she stayed up playing and going on second wind until after 2am.

She was remarkably not cranky and fussy all day, shockingly. She even fought me on going to bed. I AM NOT TIRED she declared. I knew that couldn't actually be true. I sent her to snuggle in bed with her big brother so I could stay up and watch Masters of Horror with my husband, as close as we get to a date these days.

This morning however, tucked under my chin, was a little blonde ball of blonde, sucking her thumb and in a deep, slack jawed sleep. I kissed her and said good morning, as I heard the boys stirring and running up & down the hall way. I whispered "Let's get up."

She opened her eyes and said "How about you change those boys first?"

I laughed and slipped out of bed around her. She fell back into dead sleep. I tucked her into bed - and the twins and I had breakfast without her or Louis.

There was a bit of screaming and fit throwing at breakfast when I suggest we NOT spit at the table. However it was isolated to a five minute window. Miles is playing ANGRY BIRDS and Charlie is wandering around flipping a ribbon. Mickey Mouse Clubhouse is on but I might be the only one watching it.

I'm going to go wake her up within the next hour, I am going to let her soak up the snuggly sleep however - I know I wish I could.

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Autism Au Lait

If you're an Autism mom and you're honest with yourself, you know very well that there is only so much you can do to combat the stress that the condition brings to you, and to your children. I try to get breakfast together FAST because I know Charlie is hungry, and keeping Charlie fed cuts down on tantrums dramatically.
But this morning, it was after breakfast, in the lull when the oldest boy and I were having a coffee and talking about a video game that the screaming started, out of the blue.
The two of us leaped up and ran into the living room.
Scene, one little girl sitting on the floor playing with a Barbie. One little boy playing with an airport, dinosaurs, toy soldiers and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. TV is singing"I FEEL BETTER SO MUCH BETTER" from Doc McStuffins. And one little boy, writhing on the sofa shrieking at the top of his lungs.
Sheep being devoured alive by wolves scream less.

It was my Charlie. I rushed over to him and took his hands and said "Charlie what's WRONG?" At this point, he starts twisting my fingers as hard as he can and tries to jam his chin HARD into my face. I'm trained in the autism martial arts, so I flip my giant nine year old into a basket hold and hug him tight and whisper "Shhhh shhhhh it's OK, what is WRONG baby? Do you hurt?" He doesn't answer, he says random words I can't divine meaning from. 

Was it the TV? Did Miles pull his hair? Did Julia take something from him? I don't know. He can't tell me.

"All done," he says. I confirm "All done?" And he says "Yeah." 

As I am letting go, Miles runs back into the room (when did he leave?) and shouts "I NEED A WIPE!"

Louis darts into the dining room "OH NO MOM HE SPILLED ALL OF YOUR COFFEE ALL OVER THE FLOOR!"

I let Charlie go, and he's now laughing and watching TV, and Louis and I frantically start cleaning the new stain on our dining room floor. I ponder how much a steam cleaner would cost me. It's in desperate need, the Berber is flat. 

We scrub and spray cleaner and scrub, and as we're soaking up coffee and scrubbing our eyes meet and we both start laughing. "It's a crazy life," Louis says.

Isn't it?

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Autism Au Lait

If you're an Autism mom and you're honest with yourself, you know very well that there is only so much you can do to combat the stress that the condition brings to you, and to your children. I try to get breakfast together FAST because I know Charlie is hungry, and keeping Charlie fed cuts down on tantrums dramatically.
But this morning, it was after breakfast, in the lull when the oldest boy and I were having a coffee and talking about a video game that the screaming started, out of the blue.
The two of us leaped up and ran into the living room.
Scene, one little girl sitting on the floor playing with a Barbie. One little boy playing with an airport, dinosaurs, toy soldiers and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. TV is singing"I FEEL BETTER SO MUCH BETTER" from Doc McStuffins. And one little boy, writhing on the sofa shrieking at the top of his lungs.
Sheep being devoured alive by wolves scream less.

It was my Charlie. I rushed over to him and took his hands and said "Charlie what's WRONG?" At this point, he starts twisting my fingers as hard as he can and tries to jam his chin HARD into my face. I'm trained in the autism martial arts, so I flip my giant nine year old into a basket hold and hug him tight and whisper "Shhhh shhhhh it's OK, what is WRONG baby? Do you hurt?" He doesn't answer, he says random words I can't divine meaning from. 

Was it the TV? Did Miles pull his hair? Did Julia take something from him? I don't know. He can't tell me.

"All done," he says. I confirm "All done?" And he says "Yeah." 

As I am letting go, Miles runs back into the room (when did he leave?) and shouts "I NEED A WIPE!"

Louis darts into the dining room "OH NO MOM HE SPILLED ALL OF YOUR COFFEE ALL OVER THE FLOOR!"

I let Charlie go, and he's now laughing and watching TV, and Louis and I frantically start cleaning the new stain on our dining room floor. I ponder how much a steam cleaner would cost me. It's in desperate need, the Berber is flat. 

We scrub and spray cleaner and scrub, and as we're soaking up coffee and scrubbing our eyes meet and we both start laughing. "It's a crazy life," Louis says.

Isn't it?

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6 am is Charlie's hour

When you are one of four children, born third, you have very few hours in the day that are yours alone. Your space has always been occupied by at least the two children that came before you, if not also by the one that came rolling along when you were six.

But my Charlie has the time, Monday thru Friday, from 6:20 am until 7:00 am that is his alone. His with his Mommy, and he doesn't have to share her with anyone.

We spend that time watching Sesame Street, and giggling at Cookie Monster, and giggling harder at Grover. We put on shoes and jackets. Sometimes we share coffee. He sits on my lap, sometimes he hugs and kisses me, sometimes he just sits as close as he can.

But Charlie's favorite mornings are the ones when it's not TOO cold, and he and I go out to the porch to swing and wait for that little bus to come. We swing, and listen to the birds. Sometimes the wind blows too hard and we shiver. Sometimes there are squirrels and once I was certain I saw a coyote dart away.

I watch the trees sway and listen to the wind sing in the fir trees and Charlie laughs and giggles at our morning fun. I note which trees are finally going to bloom and try to sip my coffee as an excited 8 year old keeps hopping on and off the porch swing.

Until 7am, it's just us on the planet. It's a quiet but giggle filled world most days. I am glad we have this, despite how early an annoying it feels sometimes. It's nice once in a while, to just do nothing but observe the world and my Charlie in it.


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6 am is Charlie's hour

When you are one of four children, born third, you have very few hours in the day that are yours alone. Your space has always been occupied by at least the two children that came before you, if not also by the one that came rolling along when you were six.

But my Charlie has the time, Monday thru Friday, from 6:20 am until 7:00 am that is his alone. His with his Mommy, and he doesn't have to share her with anyone.

We spend that time watching Sesame Street, and giggling at Cookie Monster, and giggling harder at Grover. We put on shoes and jackets. Sometimes we share coffee. He sits on my lap, sometimes he hugs and kisses me, sometimes he just sits as close as he can.

But Charlie's favorite mornings are the ones when it's not TOO cold, and he and I go out to the porch to swing and wait for that little bus to come. We swing, and listen to the birds. Sometimes the wind blows too hard and we shiver. Sometimes there are squirrels and once I was certain I saw a coyote dart away.

I watch the trees sway and listen to the wind sing in the fir trees and Charlie laughs and giggles at our morning fun. I note which trees are finally going to bloom and try to sip my coffee as an excited 8 year old keeps hopping on and off the porch swing.

Until 7am, it's just us on the planet. It's a quiet but giggle filled world most days. I am glad we have this, despite how early an annoying it feels sometimes. It's nice once in a while, to just do nothing but observe the world and my Charlie in it.


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I Couldn't Find My Coffee

I sat down at the computer with a cup of hot steamy, sweet and creamy coffee but then got up to adjust the fan. When I sat back down I edited pics for a few minutes and then realized, I had no coffee.
I went over and turned on the light in the computer room, and couldn't sort out where it was.
I thought I just brought it upstairs with me, for a little "in between school buses computer time".

I went back downstairs. There was a ring on the counter where I had definitely poured it and not sponged up the ring. I knew the cup existed. I looked in the living room where the oldest boy was eating his grits. "Have you seen my coffee?" "Nope."

I looked in the bathroom, I looked in the refrigerator and the cabinet and then I wandered back upstairs thinking I would check my bedroom when I glanced over at the 8 year old quietly watching PBS.

That's a Big Lebowski cup. It says "I'm finishing my coffee."

And so he did.

I bet his teachers appreciated the highly caffeinated severely autistic child!
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I Couldn't Find My Coffee

I sat down at the computer with a cup of hot steamy, sweet and creamy coffee but then got up to adjust the fan. When I sat back down I edited pics for a few minutes and then realized, I had no coffee.
I went over and turned on the light in the computer room, and couldn't sort out where it was.
I thought I just brought it upstairs with me, for a little "in between school buses computer time".

I went back downstairs. There was a ring on the counter where I had definitely poured it and not sponged up the ring. I knew the cup existed. I looked in the living room where the oldest boy was eating his grits. "Have you seen my coffee?" "Nope."

I looked in the bathroom, I looked in the refrigerator and the cabinet and then I wandered back upstairs thinking I would check my bedroom when I glanced over at the 8 year old quietly watching PBS.

That's a Big Lebowski cup. It says "I'm finishing my coffee."

And so he did.

I bet his teachers appreciated the highly caffeinated severely autistic child!
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