Please excuse the gap in the narrative, dear friends. Your humble narrator has been stricken with a vile malady that, while not debilitating, was enough to keep me from all but the most essential duties, such as earning the duckets needed for our hero to carry on with his journey.
*sigh* You know what? I’m just too tired to try to do “The narrator voice” right this second. Let me just catch you up on the past few days.
Both Lil’ B. and myself have been under the weather. Luckily his mother was home on leave for the worst of it in my case, which is a good thing from Lil. B’s standpoint, I’m sure. For the most part I was capable of tossing out a few money makers and then taking a nap. Dinners have been sammiches and burritos and the house is looking lie raggedy-hell, since that is my department and with me mostly out of commission, the work just doesn’t get done.
To top this off I have a sick kiddo. As any parent will attest, having a sick two year old is no walk in the park. Add in that the child has Autism Spectrum Disorder and it can be a downright nightmare.
Try to imagine this. You feel like crud, your stomach hurts and all you really want to do is be left alone and lie down, but you have too much energy to be able to. You get hungry and thirsty, but you have no way to communicate the pain in your stomach or the fact that you ache all over. It has to be frustrating, and it’s what my son lives through every minute of every day of his life, regardless of the rampaging evil nasties.
It breaks my heart sometimes to see him try so hard to tell me something, only to fall back in on himself just before he gets there. I can see him trying. It’s a visible thing. His little face screws up tight. His breathing changes, and the look of utter concentration in his little two year old eyes has me on the edge of my seat. He’s in there and he’s trying like hell to come out.
Then it fails.
At that point I’m never sure whether to cry or to jump up and scream at the umpire for making the wrong call. It’s not right and it’s not fair and I don’t like it and I don’t have to. It sucks. It hurts his feelings and crushes his spirit a little every time he almost makes it. As his father, that’s hard to watch. But at least I know he tried, and I praise him for it, in his way, since hugs are rarely welcome.
In the end we move on with the day and usually things go better. That’s what we hope for, anyway.
As for therapy: He does well at the sessions. He hasn’t melted down yet, and with one of his therapists he’s already memorized the pattern in which things are done. Pretty amazing since he’s only seen her twice. Today is another session and I hope it goes as well.
For now, I’m finally tired again after having this blasted cold wake me at 2:00 in the morning and I need some sleep if I’m going to be able to deal with Lil’ Man. I’ll do my level best to update later today.
What was that? Don’t I hve better things to do if I can’t sleep than blog?
Well, there was thos Sci-Fi Channel reruns of He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, or whatever crap they have on for insomniacs to try and help them sleep….
No, I didn’t really have anything better to do. And I’m tired.
Peace, I’m out.
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
The narrative is interesting, but I would think that with all you’ve got going on, you need a place to just lay it all out. Trying to be creative on top of it all would send me over the edge. But that’s me. I’m not surprised he already has the routine down. It doesn’t take the long since they crave and depend on routine. And I can’t think of anything better to do in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep other than blog. My hunkster plays poker. Whatever floats your boat, right?
I like the narrative, and I’ll probably go back to it from time to time, but it really only serves to distance me from the subject, which is probably not the optimal solution in this case. It’s better just to pour it out.