Ah, you might be familiar with my "Don't Read This Blog"s.
Yep, you will hate me for my selfish self-pitying if you don't turn back now. Hey, I hate me for it it too.
But unless I write it down, it burns me from the inside out. So I beg of you, stop here. I'm about to wallow.
Who? Are? These? Children?
Where did they come from?
All I'm saying is terrible twos plus autisic four equals bad day after bad day.
No one here is ever HAPPY. He seems allergic to happy, unless he is one-on-one with an adult who is only there to agree with everything he wants and satisfy his every intense need, and as long as that person agrees to never impose a limit, change his diaper, give him medicine, or ask him to do anything for himself. Even then he can suddenly freak out because that adult was too loud or looked at him in a way he didn't like. But all it takes is another child around -- including/especially his sister -- and he is a raging, pushing, shoving, hitting, screaming, tirade throwing, spitting, noncompliant heap of rage, every waking minute.
The hours I spend alone with the two of them every afternoon feel like they have gone from difficult to torture. It is unthinkable that I would be able to manage using a stove, doing a chore, talking on the phone, taking a shower, exercising, paying a bill, or even stepping into another room without them during those hours. We would probably end up in the emergency room.
So you read it, huh. You are so right to judge me. I am failing miserably. There is nothing you could tell me I don't know. And still.
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5 comments:
nope, no judgment from me. you're just gong through a shitty spell right now...wish i had a magic wand to fix it. sending love and restful thoughts. xo
I can't tell you the number of times my husband came home & I stuttered to him in tears, "I can't do this! I can't even take a shower. How can he possibly be that angry all the time? I'll be surprised if his sister lives to see three....where does all that rage come from?"....
ouch.
nothing I can say can make it better. that part sucks.
what I can say is that somehow we muddle through & though there are more hard days to come...there will also be better days...around the corner.
you're not alone in the big bad world....sometimes it just feels like it.
I read it and I still like you. Yes, the late afternoon hours are torture. I recently tweaked my "full-time" job to be a straight 8-4, so I could have afternoons with the kids. Then my husband got laid off, and I picked up some side work that I have to do from 4-6, which cuts two hours out of torture time. And I'm happier. Go figure. No, no exercise, no shower, no phone calls, no you during those hours.
Would it help you, though, if I told you that Foster really mellowed between the ages of 4 and 5, and became far more agreeable? I'm wishing the same for you (and Rooster).
You are a good mom. You are a good mom. You are a good mom. Say it with me...
I don't think you're failing miserably. I think you have a son who needs to be constantly engaged, only there are two of them and one of you. We know how that goes. We pick our therapists to have "strong personalities"- that is, they are assertive and run a tight ship, so Joey knows exactly what is expected- or his own strong personality runs rough-shod over the person. this was especially a problem when we had college girls doing the discrete trial ABA. (Using college kids to do some ABA- which means one-on-one engagement- might be something to look into. Soundproof a room and go for it)
***HUGS***
you may judge yourself, you silly goose, but we don't. :) We know where you're coming from, loud & clear. Don't worry. Just keep bloggin. We get it, and we get you.
And start bustin' a move on trying to get a weekly babysitter - even for an HOUR a week! Start small! Don't give up on time to yourself!!! XO R
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