Her teacher told me Evie had a day full of "mood swings." She'd be smiling one minute, the next crying and upset. As she had a runny nose for the past couple of days she was going to call me but decided against it.
(Last time Evie acted like this, she perked up and was perfectly fine after I picked her up early.)
Knowing that she wasn't feeling well, I prepared for an afternoon of Evie watching tv while I worked on a few things that had to get done. Two minutes in, she screams. Not just a wimper but a full on wail.
"You don't like this episode? Okay I'll change it."
Start another... then WAIIIIIIILLLLL!!!!!
"Evie if you keep screaming I'm going to turn off the tv."
Few minutes later WAIIIILLLLL!!!!! I turn off the TV. She somehow manages to cry even harder. After about thirty minutes I cave.
"Fine. You win."
Screams continue and I choose to ignore her after making sure she wasn't wet, hungry, or had some massive thorn somewhere.
(I honestly wish I could record her crying for you. I did it once but thought against it as it truly sounds as though she is being tortured.)
Cue older kids trying to help her to no avail then choose to make even more noise. Not normal kid noises but sit in a chair and obnoxiously scoot across the floor noise. Making noise for the sake of making noise. Somehow humming the exact tune that will cause your other sibling to scream, "MMMOOOOOOMMM!!!!!!"
I breathe. Just make crepes. That's all you have to do right now, is make crepes. I tell myself. They're cheap, easy and Evie loves them. Eight crepes later, she seems to be full but starts mooching off her siblings. She'll see them eat, walk over, stand there. Get closer, stand there expectantly like some small bird only her mouth isn't open.
"Don't give her any!" I tell my other children as an image of a twenty-something Evie doing the same thing crosses my mind while I tell myself after eight crepes she's full.
By this time Evie realizes crepes are still coming out of the kitchen and decides to personally tell me she wants more by yanking on my arm while I flip.
"You've had enough" and I scootch her out in the living room. She comes back. Seeing where this is headed I move our kitchen table at an angle, a feeble attempt to keep her out while I cook. It works for a while until her brother thinks it's okay to let her in. Frustrated I tell him to make his own while I get Evie cleaned up. He's only too happy to oblige since I am very possessive cook.
While getting Evie into the tub I feel something rather warm close to my back. I turn around only to see my boy standing there in the bathroom... with the hot skillet.
"Do I flip it now?"
He had already done this once before and in fact took it upon himself to frolic through the house with the skillet, trying to help me out by flipping it but wanting it to be perfect needed my approval. We had the "hot skillets don't leave the kitchen stove talk", why is he... ugh!!!
"What did I tell you?!?!"
I'll spare you the details of the you didn't tell me/I did tell you conversation/argument we had.
At any rate, Evie's asleep and I'm winding myself down. It's nights like these that I can understand where those parents come from that do horrible things to their children. Seriously. There's a certain level of stress that comes from not only having an autistic child, but having one that has absolutely no way to have two way communication. If she was normal, I could have very easily asked her what's wrong, fixed it to the best of my ability and be on with it. But instead I play a guessing game while an almost seven-year-old screams at the top of their lungs all evening, meanwhile there are other kids who, through their own individual ways, vie for attention.
However, I knew there would be an end to this. I knew that if I could only make it to 6:45, she could have her medicine and hopefully sleep off whatever it is she needs to sleep off. After 7 I lay down with her and she grabbed my hand. She loves to have her hands rubbed and held. It was during this time I congratulated myself for surviving another night and began to reflect on how grateful I am.
1. Nights like this used to be constant, at least a few times per week.
2. Evie loves to snuggle. Some parents of autistic kiddos don't have that luxury.
3. Evie has no other medical problems.
4. She didn't discover the open second story bedroom window that I forgot to close
I think ultimately what got me upset is yeah, Evie is different but we're used to that and that's our normal so when nights like this come up I'm reminded of the unknown; of where she'll live in 50 years, who she'll live with, will she ever be potty trained, will she consistently eat with a fork? Although those worries are valid, over time I've been able to put them way back in the deep recesses of my mind. After all, that's how parents like me are able to function.
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