The Fairytale of Solo Pooping and Other Autism Parenting Nonsense

There was a time when I would often find myself sitting upon the toilet with a small boy perched upon my lap. I would be there to answer one of nature's calls, and the child would find me sitting (having sought me out as I'm not allowed to stray) and would climb upon my lap.

This presents a number of issues. First of all no part of my toilet training ever included "How to void one's bladder or intestines while holding a child." In fact, I can admit I never was able to accomplish is regardless of how desperately I might have needed to do before that moment. They were confusing and frustrating times. How do you explain to a child that doesn't understand that THIS seat is different from every other seat? When I sit on THIS seat you can't sit on my lap, but on every other seat we're good?

How?

I'm not sure how we actually ever graduated from that phase except there was probably some screaming and some locked doors involved. Locked doors might seem like the obvious answer but the twins have an intense need to be ABLE to get to me. Their father gets away with pooping on his own. I, however, can at LEAST count on someone chanting/counting/stemming/singing outside my bathroom door at the minimum. They seem to need me to acknowledge them, to confirm a small piece of object permanence maybe they're missing. "I'll be out in a minute," I'll call. "Everything is OK Mommy will be right out."

Sometimes they simply pop open to door and look at me. They don't stay, they take a look and leave - swinging the door wide open so it doesn't accidentally shut again. The oldest child has come upon me more than once, moaning in horror "MOM WHY IS THE DOOR OPEN" and shutting it. I'm not sure which of us he's more embarrassed for.

Dude sometimes I gotta poop, what do you want from me kid? I can't ALWAYS GET UP AND SHUT THE DAMN DOOR AGAIN.

If we return to the subject of locks, you might just say "Damn woman, just lock that door." Well I do, on occasion. There are whole days that pass when I can safely lock the bathroom door, do what nature requires and exit feeling lighter with hands scented delightfully from some fancy soap. Those are damn good days, I gotta admit. However there are many more days where me locking the door equals a 12 year old boy in full on autism panic yelling "OPEN DOOR OPEN DOOR" when he realizes I am behind a door he can't get through.

He can't be separated from me. He might not need to be with me 24/7 any longer but he requires it as an option.

Some days this one thing makes me feel like some bizarre alien. All parents experience this with their small children. We tut-tut and giggle over the joy we get when solo showers happen, or being just alone in the bathroom with no spectators. But the prospect of that being your LIFE is sobering. It stops being cute.

It is a form of torture played out on a minuscule scale. A small human dignity shall be disallowed. You won't be harmed by it. It's not worth truly complaining about. In fact compared to all the terrible things that happen in the world you're just fine and seriously hush, you haven't got any problems. Yet, there is it, this thing that other people can expect from their 12 year olds that you as an autism parent can't.

It's unfair.

Life isn't fair, my mom used to say. Get over it.

She was right. It's probably the most important thing she ever taught me. It's pretty much all that gets me through some days.

The Fairytale of Solo Pooping and Other Autism Parenting Nonsense

There was a time when I would often find myself sitting upon the toilet with a small boy perched upon my lap. I would be there to answer one of nature's calls, and the child would find me sitting (having sought me out as I'm not allowed to stray) and would climb upon my lap.

This presents a number of issues. First of all no part of my toilet training ever included "How to void one's bladder or intestines while holding a child." In fact, I can admit I never was able to accomplish is regardless of how desperately I might have needed to do before that moment. They were confusing and frustrating times. How do you explain to a child that doesn't understand that THIS seat is different from every other seat? When I sit on THIS seat you can't sit on my lap, but on every other seat we're good?

How?

I'm not sure how we actually ever graduated from that phase except there was probably some screaming and some locked doors involved. Locked doors might seem like the obvious answer but the twins have an intense need to be ABLE to get to me. Their father gets away with pooping on his own. I, however, can at LEAST count on someone chanting/counting/stemming/singing outside my bathroom door at the minimum. They seem to need me to acknowledge them, to confirm a small piece of object permanence maybe they're missing. "I'll be out in a minute," I'll call. "Everything is OK Mommy will be right out."

Sometimes they simply pop open to door and look at me. They don't stay, they take a look and leave - swinging the door wide open so it doesn't accidentally shut again. The oldest child has come upon me more than once, moaning in horror "MOM WHY IS THE DOOR OPEN" and shutting it. I'm not sure which of us he's more embarrassed for.

Dude sometimes I gotta poop, what do you want from me kid? I can't ALWAYS GET UP AND SHUT THE DAMN DOOR AGAIN.

If we return to the subject of locks, you might just say "Damn woman, just lock that door." Well I do, on occasion. There are whole days that pass when I can safely lock the bathroom door, do what nature requires and exit feeling lighter with hands scented delightfully from some fancy soap. Those are damn good days, I gotta admit. However there are many more days where me locking the door equals a 12 year old boy in full on autism panic yelling "OPEN DOOR OPEN DOOR" when he realizes I am behind a door he can't get through.

He can't be separated from me. He might not need to be with me 24/7 any longer but he requires it as an option.

Some days this one thing makes me feel like some bizarre alien. All parents experience this with their small children. We tut-tut and giggle over the joy we get when solo showers happen, or being just alone in the bathroom with no spectators. But the prospect of that being your LIFE is sobering. It stops being cute.

It is a form of torture played out on a minuscule scale. A small human dignity shall be disallowed. You won't be harmed by it. It's not worth truly complaining about. In fact compared to all the terrible things that happen in the world you're just fine and seriously hush, you haven't got any problems. Yet, there is it, this thing that other people can expect from their 12 year olds that you as an autism parent can't.

It's unfair.

Life isn't fair, my mom used to say. Get over it.

She was right. It's probably the most important thing she ever taught me. It's pretty much all that gets me through some days.

We Had to Do ALL The Things

But FIRST we had to do the important things. Important being hugs with Grandma and Grandpa - or Papa as Julia has decided to call him. We'd never been to their new place and it was an adventure of things to do, as Grandma's houses always are.

Grandma had COLORING BOOKS! Who KNEW other people could have things like COLORING BOOKS?? And she had lots of them.
We had dinner at one of our favorite chains from back when we lived there, and I swear I don't recall the food at all. Was it because it was just average or I was just so excited to see my parents? I don't know. It was Max and Erma's and we got burgers but eh, it's just a burger.

The twins thought Grandpa was awesome. We had to wait a while, which went really well, oddly. the waitress brought us sidewalk chalk to entertain little people.

We aren't good with waits usually, as Miles and Charlie won't tolerate them well but this time it all went well.
Of course the best part of any trip to Max and Erma's is the Sundae Bar. Right?

I wish my kids could've seen the OLD SUNDAE BAR because it was AWESOME. Max and Erma's has cheaped up the Sundae bar for sure, but hey, the kids didn't know the difference. It was still fun.

Julia thought it was awesome, obviously.

We decided that it wouldn't be right to come to Indy without heading for the Children's Museum, so we made that our plan for the next day.

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We Had to Do ALL The Things

But FIRST we had to do the important things. Important being hugs with Grandma and Grandpa - or Papa as Julia has decided to call him. We'd never been to their new place and it was an adventure of things to do, as Grandma's houses always are.

Grandma had COLORING BOOKS! Who KNEW other people could have things like COLORING BOOKS?? And she had lots of them.
We had dinner at one of our favorite chains from back when we lived there, and I swear I don't recall the food at all. Was it because it was just average or I was just so excited to see my parents? I don't know. It was Max and Erma's and we got burgers but eh, it's just a burger.

The twins thought Grandpa was awesome. We had to wait a while, which went really well, oddly. the waitress brought us sidewalk chalk to entertain little people.

We aren't good with waits usually, as Miles and Charlie won't tolerate them well but this time it all went well.
Of course the best part of any trip to Max and Erma's is the Sundae Bar. Right?

I wish my kids could've seen the OLD SUNDAE BAR because it was AWESOME. Max and Erma's has cheaped up the Sundae bar for sure, but hey, the kids didn't know the difference. It was still fun.

Julia thought it was awesome, obviously.

We decided that it wouldn't be right to come to Indy without heading for the Children's Museum, so we made that our plan for the next day.

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She's Got This

I was used to the idea that Louis would always be ahead of the twins by leaps and bounds.  That's a hard thing to get your mind around, that two of your children aren't on the developmental train you want them to be on. They're wandering around the station, not moving the way one child is.

Louis is so smart. I know I take it for granted sometimes. I take HIM for granted, he's the third parent around here too often and I'm always so sorry for that.

I didn't expect my three year old to start earning her "taking care of the twins" stripes quite yet but it seems that she's already working on that merit badge and I didn't know it.

At bedtime, in the middle of reading Goodnight Moon I glanced over and noticed Charlie had a trembly lip and tears running down his face. Charlie is a lot like a toddler in that when he's over tired, he'll just sob for no reason. I put my hand on his cheek to wipe away his tears, but Julia climbed into bed as I finished their story, and hugged him tight. "What's wrong buddy?" she asked him.

He cried harder and she sat up, took his hand and said, "Do you need a squeeze, Charlie?"

Charlie has peri-perception issues and I'm spelling that wrong. I don't know how it's spelled. You'd think I would by now. Anyway, he has issues where he craves/needs deep pressure especially on his joints, for calming. Strong pressure hugs, pressure on his shoulders, on his wrists, he desperately needs these and will sometimes act out until he gets them.

He blinked away his tears and said "Quee" which of course means Squeeze in Charlie language.

She took his hand and wrapped both of her little hands around his wrist and hand and began gently squeezing. He stopped crying and she hugged him and kissed him.

She's so smart too. I guess she can fill in for 3rd parent on occasion.

I know Louis will appreciate it.
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She's Got This

I was used to the idea that Louis would always be ahead of the twins by leaps and bounds.  That's a hard thing to get your mind around, that two of your children aren't on the developmental train you want them to be on. They're wandering around the station, not moving the way one child is.

Louis is so smart. I know I take it for granted sometimes. I take HIM for granted, he's the third parent around here too often and I'm always so sorry for that.

I didn't expect my three year old to start earning her "taking care of the twins" stripes quite yet but it seems that she's already working on that merit badge and I didn't know it.

At bedtime, in the middle of reading Goodnight Moon I glanced over and noticed Charlie had a trembly lip and tears running down his face. Charlie is a lot like a toddler in that when he's over tired, he'll just sob for no reason. I put my hand on his cheek to wipe away his tears, but Julia climbed into bed as I finished their story, and hugged him tight. "What's wrong buddy?" she asked him.

He cried harder and she sat up, took his hand and said, "Do you need a squeeze, Charlie?"

Charlie has peri-perception issues and I'm spelling that wrong. I don't know how it's spelled. You'd think I would by now. Anyway, he has issues where he craves/needs deep pressure especially on his joints, for calming. Strong pressure hugs, pressure on his shoulders, on his wrists, he desperately needs these and will sometimes act out until he gets them.

He blinked away his tears and said "Quee" which of course means Squeeze in Charlie language.

She took his hand and wrapped both of her little hands around his wrist and hand and began gently squeezing. He stopped crying and she hugged him and kissed him.

She's so smart too. I guess she can fill in for 3rd parent on occasion.

I know Louis will appreciate it.
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The Nadirs of Autism

A perfect storm started on Friday night. We hadn't been any where all week mostly really because of my foot. The kids were home for Spring Break and school is one of those routines that is sacred to the twins. They LOVE it. So a week without it already put us at a bad place. Add to that, we decided that my foot being weird (numbness) meant we really needed me to stay off of it and be good for the weekend.

Thus, two more days at home. By Sunday all four of them had gone stir crazy.

On Sunday it rained. It started out pretty mellow, Charlie got me up very early and we sat up and waited for the lawn care people to show up and do their thing. Eventually I drug the rest of the little humans out of bed and figured, mellow day is going well.

At breakfast the wheels came off slightly. Everyone was a bit discombobulated but it didn't seem TOO bad. However as the day progressed and our inactivity apparently became more apparent, the twins patience with this waned. As did Julias.

Charlie's method of coping was thrashing and screaming.  Eventually he just gave it up that he needed a nap and went to his room and slept off the crazy.

Miles however decided to engage in NOTHING WILL MAKE ME HAPPY NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO. I tried getting the four of them to play Candyland with me. The big boy politlely declined (ok he's ten) and the girl wouldn't sit still or pay attention, Charlie wouldn't pay attention or try. Miles understood how to play. This was his twenty minutes of good behavior for the day. He played, was Candyland grand champion.
The rest of the day was spent fighting with Charlie, fighting with Julia, fighting over toys, screaming and sobbing randomly, and making this noise that sounds like a cat in heat. The noise infuriates me and goes RIGHT THROUGH ME. He knows this. So he keeps it up.

In fairness to me, I lasted though one and a half kiddie movies before I started yelling and losing my cool. Seriously, what is it that I can't sit and have my foot up and let me kids watch movies in peace? I can't. Because watching any kind of TV is some sort of drama.

Autism is so unfair. It makes the smallest of things impossible sometimes. It infuriates me. I shouldn't have to sit and endure two children screaming for no reason. My other children shouldn't have to endure two children screaming for no reason.

And more importantly, my children screaming shouldn't be experiencing whatever the hell it is that is making them scream.

That's the thing though. You don't know what's wrong. IT COULD BE NOTHING. THEY MIGHT LIKE THE SOUND. It's like some sick joke, see that child sobbing hysterically? Nothing wrong with him. Just having a sensory moment.

As a mother, it's devastating. My child is hysterical. And I cannot fix it. There should be a fix. I should be able to hold them or sing to them or get them candy and there just IS NO FIX.

I ended up taking a shower and standing in the shower and sobbing. Afterward apologizing to Miles for yelling at him, and for his autism. I know I didn't "do" it, but still, I made him. Any mother with a child that has a congential problem will probably tell you, the guilt of that eats at you every minute of every day. "What did I do wrong?" Probably nothing. Or I passed on bad genes and I couldn't help it.

Sunday ended with early bed times and Monday school started back up. Life is normal again.

I'll have another day like that, some day sooner rather than later. And I'll cry a lot.

Because it's all I can do.

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The Nadirs of Autism

A perfect storm started on Friday night. We hadn't been any where all week mostly really because of my foot. The kids were home for Spring Break and school is one of those routines that is sacred to the twins. They LOVE it. So a week without it already put us at a bad place. Add to that, we decided that my foot being weird (numbness) meant we really needed me to stay off of it and be good for the weekend.

Thus, two more days at home. By Sunday all four of them had gone stir crazy.

On Sunday it rained. It started out pretty mellow, Charlie got me up very early and we sat up and waited for the lawn care people to show up and do their thing. Eventually I drug the rest of the little humans out of bed and figured, mellow day is going well.

At breakfast the wheels came off slightly. Everyone was a bit discombobulated but it didn't seem TOO bad. However as the day progressed and our inactivity apparently became more apparent, the twins patience with this waned. As did Julias.

Charlie's method of coping was thrashing and screaming.  Eventually he just gave it up that he needed a nap and went to his room and slept off the crazy.

Miles however decided to engage in NOTHING WILL MAKE ME HAPPY NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO. I tried getting the four of them to play Candyland with me. The big boy politlely declined (ok he's ten) and the girl wouldn't sit still or pay attention, Charlie wouldn't pay attention or try. Miles understood how to play. This was his twenty minutes of good behavior for the day. He played, was Candyland grand champion.
The rest of the day was spent fighting with Charlie, fighting with Julia, fighting over toys, screaming and sobbing randomly, and making this noise that sounds like a cat in heat. The noise infuriates me and goes RIGHT THROUGH ME. He knows this. So he keeps it up.

In fairness to me, I lasted though one and a half kiddie movies before I started yelling and losing my cool. Seriously, what is it that I can't sit and have my foot up and let me kids watch movies in peace? I can't. Because watching any kind of TV is some sort of drama.

Autism is so unfair. It makes the smallest of things impossible sometimes. It infuriates me. I shouldn't have to sit and endure two children screaming for no reason. My other children shouldn't have to endure two children screaming for no reason.

And more importantly, my children screaming shouldn't be experiencing whatever the hell it is that is making them scream.

That's the thing though. You don't know what's wrong. IT COULD BE NOTHING. THEY MIGHT LIKE THE SOUND. It's like some sick joke, see that child sobbing hysterically? Nothing wrong with him. Just having a sensory moment.

As a mother, it's devastating. My child is hysterical. And I cannot fix it. There should be a fix. I should be able to hold them or sing to them or get them candy and there just IS NO FIX.

I ended up taking a shower and standing in the shower and sobbing. Afterward apologizing to Miles for yelling at him, and for his autism. I know I didn't "do" it, but still, I made him. Any mother with a child that has a congential problem will probably tell you, the guilt of that eats at you every minute of every day. "What did I do wrong?" Probably nothing. Or I passed on bad genes and I couldn't help it.

Sunday ended with early bed times and Monday school started back up. Life is normal again.

I'll have another day like that, some day sooner rather than later. And I'll cry a lot.

Because it's all I can do.

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Bad Parenting Karma

Everyone has those bad parent moments. That moment where you are inattentive, or you're too short of patience. You get annoyed or quick tempered when you shouldn't and then you feel like a jerk.

It happened to me on Monday. Very specifically I got very angry with a two year old girl who turned off the computer I was working on. In truth, I was playing WoW so I wasn't working at all. WOOOOP computer was logged out. "JULIA!" I said angrily. And then I blathered on like a cartoon parent "YOU NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER TOUCH THAT BUTTON ON MOMMY'S COMPUTER! NEVER NEVER NEVER!!"

About 20 minutes later, full of regret because I'd just yelled at my beloved girl for killing my VIDEO GAME, I launched into I WILL BE A BETTER MOTHER mode. She was being silly and turning on the radio so we could dance, and how could I refuse? I swooped her up and we laughed and danced around, singing her version of Old McDonald which actually seems to involve McDonald's not OLD McDonald when suddenly...

CRASH SNAP.

A wave of numb blasted through my foot. I looked down, and saw that my right pink toe was laying horizontally inward. Nearly perfectly horizontally. It didn't hurt. Julia cried "MOMMY YOUR TOE!" and I sat down hard on the hope chest at the end of my bed, and took in the damage. I gently pushed it back over a bit, more into the place where such a toe might go.

This was when it looked like THIS:

I called my GP but he referred me to an orthopedic surgeon who declared it broken and dislocated.

I wasn't all that worried about what they were going to do, which was a small mistake, as the shots to numb it up hurt as much as breaking it. But after they let it all get good and numb, I didn't feel anything when they straightened it all out. Yank pop crack and voila - it was all straight. I went home and took painkillers and tried to be a bit restful.

I felt pretty good yesterday, honestly. Felt fine being on it, especially without my shoe on, and so gave the kids a bath, emptied the dishwasher nothing big (but hey for that it's like massive housework).

Today? Not so much. It's swollen and bruised and just yuck.

Today it's swollen and horrible. And it hurts. I'm writing with ice on it, on the laptop watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse with the little ones.

I feel like this is karma overdose, Universe.

Just saying.

Btw to those who asked - yes INDEED SAME TOE
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Bad Parenting Karma

Everyone has those bad parent moments. That moment where you are inattentive, or you're too short of patience. You get annoyed or quick tempered when you shouldn't and then you feel like a jerk.

It happened to me on Monday. Very specifically I got very angry with a two year old girl who turned off the computer I was working on. In truth, I was playing WoW so I wasn't working at all. WOOOOP computer was logged out. "JULIA!" I said angrily. And then I blathered on like a cartoon parent "YOU NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER TOUCH THAT BUTTON ON MOMMY'S COMPUTER! NEVER NEVER NEVER!!"

About 20 minutes later, full of regret because I'd just yelled at my beloved girl for killing my VIDEO GAME, I launched into I WILL BE A BETTER MOTHER mode. She was being silly and turning on the radio so we could dance, and how could I refuse? I swooped her up and we laughed and danced around, singing her version of Old McDonald which actually seems to involve McDonald's not OLD McDonald when suddenly...

CRASH SNAP.

A wave of numb blasted through my foot. I looked down, and saw that my right pink toe was laying horizontally inward. Nearly perfectly horizontally. It didn't hurt. Julia cried "MOMMY YOUR TOE!" and I sat down hard on the hope chest at the end of my bed, and took in the damage. I gently pushed it back over a bit, more into the place where such a toe might go.

This was when it looked like THIS:

I called my GP but he referred me to an orthopedic surgeon who declared it broken and dislocated.

I wasn't all that worried about what they were going to do, which was a small mistake, as the shots to numb it up hurt as much as breaking it. But after they let it all get good and numb, I didn't feel anything when they straightened it all out. Yank pop crack and voila - it was all straight. I went home and took painkillers and tried to be a bit restful.

I felt pretty good yesterday, honestly. Felt fine being on it, especially without my shoe on, and so gave the kids a bath, emptied the dishwasher nothing big (but hey for that it's like massive housework).

Today? Not so much. It's swollen and bruised and just yuck.

Today it's swollen and horrible. And it hurts. I'm writing with ice on it, on the laptop watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse with the little ones.

I feel like this is karma overdose, Universe.

Just saying.

Btw to those who asked - yes INDEED SAME TOE
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