Thursday, 10 November 2011

What Happened To The Boy From Campbell River?!

For those of you who know me, you know I love my son more than the air I breathe.  Heck, he IS the air I breathe.  Without him, I would not have gone through the surgeries that no doubt have saved my life.  He gave me a reason to care about my life expectancy.

What I don't understand though is why, oh why he's changed...  Let me explain.

As most children on the autism spectrum, Dayton hates change.  Any kind of change will set him off, whether it be a good change or a bad change.  Christmas, birthdays, Halloween...  they're a nightmare in my home.  Well, not completely.  Christmas is very special to me and always will be, no matter what anyone's mood is.  My point, excuse my Menopause brain, it's in full swing again today...  My point is, that the recent two week stay of ours in BC went FANTASTIC.  No meltdowns.  No confusion, no freak outs.  Dayton was a perfect angel.  He was absolutely wonderful, even though our visit wasn't particularly meant as a vacation.  He was sad his grandpa Jerry passed away, but behaved spectacularly.

It seems he was allergic to something or got a rash on his face due to the stress of a change.  Taking him to a walk in clinic didn't help; the doctor had no clue what the problem was.  Not wanting to chance allergies, he suggested I give Dayton Benadryl, something I had already done before he advised it.  But he did suggest I give him an adult dose to see if it would be of more help since the children's dose had little to no affect.

Benadryl should have made Dayton drowsy, but it didn't.  He functioned perfectly, wasn't drugged or sleepy. In fact, my boy was cool, calm and collected for most of our "visit", with the exception of bed time, which is typical for any nine year old.  He complained that his rash was itchy and burned and that his eyes hurt, so I added children's Advil to his Benadryl regime.  As long as he had his Benadryl every four hours and his Advil every six hours, he was pain and irritant free.

Once we got home and didn't need the Benadryl anymore, he went back to the Dayton I've known for the past nine years.  Hyper, hyper, hyper!  Fortunately, I haven't had any complaints from his school, but at home...  Ugh.  His inner motor's been cranked on high!  He's lost all aim in the washroom, and I'm threatening to make him sit on the throne like a girl.  He didn't have this problem in Campbell River, I thought he'd mastered his aim!  We even celebrated with a freaking cake!  What the heck?!

Yesterday morning the little turkey decided to pee in the waste basket beside the toilet!  Just thinking about it is making me drive heave.  There was pee around the toilet, in the waste basket...  I literally blew a gasket.  His aim's always been a wee bit off in the mornings, but not like this.  And when I asked him about it, he had no answer.  Of course, at first he claimed "I didn't do it".  Jeez!  I want to find this "I didn't do it" kid and claim him on my income tax...  He also brings up this kid called "I don't know."  I'll be calling Revenue Canada in the morning...
I could understand if the toilet looked something like this...  I wouldn't want to pee in it either!  But this is NOT the case!
The stench of pee emanating from the waste basket was driving me insane, so I cleaned it, but held firm to stomaching the pee around the toilet for him to clean up after school.  Of course he didn't like it and thought cleaning pee was "gross."  He started crying, which made me feel bad for a split second until my gag reflex kicked in and made me dry heave again.  Leaning over the sink dry heaving, I did my best to explain to him during the wee breaths I managed to take that it's not fair that I have to clean up his pee.  "The M in MOM is for mom, not maid Dayton!"
"The S in SON is for son, not slave mamma."
I thought he didn't know how to spell!  Well excuse me!  I suppose I've used the mom argument for too many years.  I wonder how long he's been thinking of the son argument.  I didn't even know he knew what the word slave meant.  I suppose I had it coming.  He is, after all, my son.

As dad Paul has taught me, consider yourselves hugged,


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