I was very silly this morning when I woke up and thought that I would have an easy peaceful day simply because I had gotten a wonderful long, solid nights sleep. For a moment, like many mothers, I thought that my day would spin around how I am…like many mothers, our day does NOT spin around how WE are but how our children are and how they are facing their day.
It started yesterday when my son's respite worker got married. Oh, it's not his fault per se but his getting married broke our routine…It is his job on Saturday's to make sure that my son takes his meds int he morning because I leave for work before he gets up and my respite worker normally comes and gets him late morning and entertains him until I get home-also making sure he has taken meds and eaten breakfast. I forgot when I got home to double check the tmy son took his meds and it wasn't until we got home late last night after the wedding and my son broke a patio table, punched through a screen door, threw ice-cream into my garden and a couple of garden chairs around that it dawned on me…gee, did he take his morning meds? The lion's share of meds are at night because of their sedative effect and he took those and went to sleep.
I woke up after a wonderful nights sleep and played in my garden, made the family a delicious breakfast and thought to myself, "wow, what a beautiful day…we can get our chores done, relax and I might be able to get some study time and quality family time…won't that be great?!?!" Both kids woke up appreciative and happy to see a delicious and nutritious breakfast laid out for them. We at a couple of fresh strawberries and blue berries from our garden as well enjoying our treat and smiling. I expressed my chipper idea of getting our chores done and then enjoying the rest of our day together. …and there it went.
The boy melted down. "I don't want to do chores…I hate f*$!ing chores!" I remained calm and explained that chores allow us to live happier, be functional and are our responsibility. I reminded him that I do a great many things for him during the week and doing chores allows me the time to take care of him and do things he needs and wants. He nodded in compliance and then laid his head down on the table as if he deflated. His sister decided to take the initiative to get up and get her chores done. Neither child ceases to find the opportunity to be "the good child" and capitalizing on the moment…she won.
The boy started to harass her and decided to play with scotch tape, a pen, his shoes, the chair and anything he could possibly stem on. My serenity flew away like a rocket when he flung the pen through the house. I admit my humanity shamefully. I said out loud, "Oh, I forgot…the happiness of our family rotates around the worst mood and laziness of the teen bodies…no worries here, just go ahead and stem and avoid doing anything productive and we can flush away our possibility of a relaxing happy day together…go right ahead" to which I stormed off to my room like a pouting child. Really what I was most upset about is that I forgot that having hope is flexible…having mentally ill kid with autistic spectrum disorder who is also a hormonal teen means that my hope must be flexible.
As the day went on there was a battle between teens, a glass vase broken, things thrown, curse words shouted and so on. At the same time that he is so repulsive and explosive he wants help managing himself. This too changes my level of hope. After he has calmed down he sits and drums on all of the walls of the house, wanting me to come out and help direct him, manage him and give him someone to explode off of so that his discomfort in his own body and brain can be blasted out until he is too exhausted to feel it anymore.
As the boy has recently expressed the desire to return to a more typical school setting under the theory that he thinks he is more stable, moments like these give me pause…remind me to redefine my hope and expectations. I need to step back and look at the big picture and not get caught up in my silly old antiquated hopes… ones like, I hope he will be stable enough to have a career, meet his personal goal of being self sufficient, getting married and having children and being a better father then his own father was to him. I have to step back from my investment into the future and look at the wide scope of the past…he is NOT suicidal, he is not hallucinating…he is NOT self harming and our violent outbursts usually don't last for 9 or 10 hours. He is not bolting except maybe once in a blue moon. I guess my hope must flex into, I hope today doesn't get worse, I hope that his thoughts get rational again and I hope that nobody or nothing else is hurt in the meantime.
AS I have been writing this, he has come in trying to pick a fight…pacing through my room, cursing and waiting for a reaction. I stay calm, keep typing and he leaves. I guess I have a small bit of grief that I once hoped for a better day, I once let hope waft into the future and have been slammed back into the moment, this moment of cursing, pacing, stemming, intensity and I redefine y expectations to meet this moment. I hope it doesn't get worse. I hope today will end happier. I hope my daughter won't make it worse and can have the strength needed to let the storm roll by her. I hope nothing else gets broken. I hoe tomorrow is better then today.
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