Let Me Do It

Ever watch Little Stuart on Mad TV?  The skit seemed to have come to life in my house this past week since Monday, with Dayton running the show while I tried my best to recuperate from my IBS pains.  Feeling absolutely awful since Monday, today is the day I finally came to feel somewhat alive and human again.  I was able to have a cup of coffee without puking it up, and felt brave enough to try to eat something more substantial than water.  Glen's the only operator at work, and can not be replaced, so he had no choice but to be at work.  This arrangement worked out fine while Dayton was in school, but unfortunately he got suspended on Friday, so the day was quite rocky for us.

Like Stuart, Dayton occasionally demands "no, let me do it."  Whether he expresses this verbally or physically, the meaning is still the same, along with the consequences.  When Dayton does things on his own, the consequence for me usually ends in a two hour cleaning spree.  Cleaning up is not my favorite task in the world, so I also demand to "let me do it" myself.  Until today.

While yes, I feel a little more human, I am not back to being 100% Lou.  I'm weak, shaky and fatigued due to lack of sleep and immense stomach pain.  The nausea may have subsided, but the IBS colon cleanse is not quite finished with me yet.  I'm running on fumes, literally (no pun intended, those of us with IBS may share a small chuckle).

So today, finding myself relieved not be embracing the porcelain god, and partially because I was too exhausted to fight him, I decided to "let" Dayton "do it."

For lunch, I thought of taking Dayton to the McDonald's drive through, but Dayton wanted to make lunch.  Cringing at the thought of Dayton messing up my newly cleaned kitchen (grandma Karen came by yesterday and cleaned the place up knowing it would be a disaster and watched Dayton so I could go and see the doctor), I watched Dayton open a can of Stagg Chili, dump it into a pot and grab a stirring spoon.  He wanted to have a tuna sandwich, so I drained the tuna and watched him dump the tuna flakes into a bowl, add mayo, salt and pepper, dill and cinnamon...  yes, I said cinnamon.  I told him cinnamon probably sounds good, but wouldn't taste too good in tuna, and to use just a tiny bit, but you know kids.  Explaining anything until turning blue in the face is not quite the same as experimenting and being a chef.  Also, I have zero energy, I'm done for.  By the time he was done, it was covered in cinnamon. 

I turned on the stove for his chili and supervised his "cooking."  I prayed he didn't stain his white shirt.  As he turned his back to me, I snuck a bit of the tuna mixture to taste.  Yuck!!!  Maybe he would like it, to each their own.  Who am I to criticize his taste buds?

Watching Dayton waste a half a loaf of bread as I lay on the kitchen floor dying to cool off, I see his smile.  It is the smile of an angel.  He's not just smiling because he's "expected" to, you know, the goofy smile he's used to wearing.  He's actually SMILING.  He's so happy!  I bite my tongue, and instead of chastising him for wasting a loaf of bread in the toaster, I pick myself off the floor and sit at the kitchen table, waiting for my lunch.  He proudly presents me with a toasted tuna sandwich with cinnamon and bowl of chili (and I'm thinking yeah, my stomach really needs beans right now, we're gonna need to open a few doors and windows today).  He then grabs the milk from the fridge with a choice of chocolate and strawberry flavoring and asks me which I'd like.  I pick strawberry.  Naturally, he misses my cup a few times and makes a pink mess on my kitchen table, but you know what...  I laugh, and so does he. 

That tuna sandwich was the best I'd ever tasted. 

Grandma Karen, if you're reading this, I need help cleaning my kitchen again.  Or maybe it can wait until I feel better again.

As for the beans, I made a trip to the pharmacy and got some industrial strength Ovol.  I will let you know if it works.

What is the point of this post?  Not very helpful in the autism world you may say...  Wrong.  Even in the land of autism, we need the reminder to "stop and smell the roses."  We need to just let go sometimes and let our children be just that - children!  While I may fight for Dayton's rights and fight for him to be viewed as a child with autism, not an autistic child, I sometimes need to remind myself that I need to cut him loose and be the child and forget about the autism.  I need to let Dayton decide for himself what he can and can not do for himself instead of just assume what he can and can not do.  Try it with your child and I'll bet he'll surprise you too!



Consider yourselves hugged!

Lou