Ultimate C(*&blocker
Yes, I went there. Unfortunately, THERE is a lot of Life With Autism.
Last night my husband and I were all so romantic. Kissing. Even in front of the kids. "Ew. Stop that!"
Kissing all evening. Then bed time for boys. A beer. Bed. Kissing.
Clapping.
Telling us we were like an 11 on a 10 point scale?
No. It's a stim. Clapping so hard that he gets calluses on his hands. That sometimes crack open.
THAT hard.
And laughing, hooting, singing, reciting at the top of his voice. Definitely a romantic killer.
I went in with him. Lots of hysterical laughter. A fellow parent described it as not the happy laughter, but psychotic. Like the Joker's laugh right before he blows up a building.
Then Sam complained he couldn't sleep (their rooms adjoin.) I urged Nathan over and over to practice his calming techniques ('smell the flower, blow out the candle.) A moment of peace. Then more shouting and high pitched, loud laughter.
To my disgrace, I lost my shit. Just for a second. But I'm not proud.
Finally, he seemed a little quieter. And he asked me to leave the room (REALLY!)
So I sat in the hall. Until a voice came.
"Do you need to go to the bathroom? You need to poop. I need to poop. Let's go poop."
So I took him to the bathroom where he tried and tried while he talked himself through it. No luck.
By that time it was 3 am. I took him downstairs and gave my husband the reins.
Paul tells me he tried to poop again. Then sat on the couch just meters from the bathroom and peed on himself. Multiple times.
I'm really tired today. Dragging my ass. Thinking tonight is not the night either for romantic fun.
By the time we get our MoJo back, we'll be too old to Jo.
Last night my husband and I were all so romantic. Kissing. Even in front of the kids. "Ew. Stop that!"
Kissing all evening. Then bed time for boys. A beer. Bed. Kissing.
Clapping.
Telling us we were like an 11 on a 10 point scale?
No. It's a stim. Clapping so hard that he gets calluses on his hands. That sometimes crack open.
THAT hard.
And laughing, hooting, singing, reciting at the top of his voice. Definitely a romantic killer.
I went in with him. Lots of hysterical laughter. A fellow parent described it as not the happy laughter, but psychotic. Like the Joker's laugh right before he blows up a building.
Then Sam complained he couldn't sleep (their rooms adjoin.) I urged Nathan over and over to practice his calming techniques ('smell the flower, blow out the candle.) A moment of peace. Then more shouting and high pitched, loud laughter.
To my disgrace, I lost my shit. Just for a second. But I'm not proud.
Finally, he seemed a little quieter. And he asked me to leave the room (REALLY!)
So I sat in the hall. Until a voice came.
"Do you need to go to the bathroom? You need to poop. I need to poop. Let's go poop."
So I took him to the bathroom where he tried and tried while he talked himself through it. No luck.
By that time it was 3 am. I took him downstairs and gave my husband the reins.
Paul tells me he tried to poop again. Then sat on the couch just meters from the bathroom and peed on himself. Multiple times.
I'm really tired today. Dragging my ass. Thinking tonight is not the night either for romantic fun.
By the time we get our MoJo back, we'll be too old to Jo.
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