Raw Autism Trench Blogging
It is very hard to muster up the energy to clean one's trashed house when one has spent the entire morning having one's autistic child punch, slap, and pinch one's face, arms, chest, and neck. And who then thinks it's funny when one starts crying. And who hits himself even harder than he hits anyone else. Thankfully he's not yet strong enough to leave bruises from his punches, though my face, arms, and chest are all bright red.
I am so worried about Leelo. Not because I think he'll never be able to leave home, but because he might not be able to stay. I am going to have to talk with Supervisor M about what we can do to manage his violence and aggression -- at this point I don't care if he never becomes potty trained (not that I'm suspending or scaling back those efforts). I am only grateful that he remains very sweet and gentle with Mali -- last night he used great language when she tried riding him in the bath, saying "Get off me, Mali, and tapped her shoulder gently (as Supervisor M and Therapist L have worked so hard to get him to do) and said "My turn, Mali" when she kept stealing his favorite straw even after I asked her not to. But he does hit anyone one else, unpredictably. This means I am worried about taking him anywhere and having anyone over.
I am also not discounting how difficult it is for him to adjust to summer school ending, his therapist being sick on the first weekday afterwards, having to take his baby sister to her first very noisy and crowded day of school, and his dad and big sister being gone for a week.
Anyhow. He just did a great potty session and I promised him french fries. All hail drive-through cuisine.