A Day And A Bit In His Shoes

Five children, three of which are on the autism spectrum.  I only had to watch the two little ones, they're four years old, and they're the ones NOT on the spectrum.  And of course Dayton.  I had the help of the eldest daughter, 17, with Asperger's, a high functioning type of autism.

I survived.  I done good, the house didn't burn down and the kids were safe.  I lost my keys a few times, Dayton found my cell phone for me every time it rang as I continually "misplaced" it, I downed a lot of cough syrup, tried to help out with chores around the house and somehow managed to get the little ones to take their naps without passing out myself.  I changed a dirty diaper without vomiting even a little bit (dry heaving doesn't count, right?), and managed to feed the kids all at the same time.  By the time SuperDad came home, I wondered how on earth he could manage five kids on his own...  I only had three and his oldest, OK, so really, I had four, but still!  I only had them for the afternoon...  and I was calling Mayday!

How does he keep the laundry straight?  How does he know which piece of clothing belongs to whom?  I had a hard time figuring that one out, so when he got home, he had some sorting to do.  So much for trying to help.  Pants I figured were the boy's were actually his middle daughters.  As a woman, you'd think I'd know the difference between girl's and boy's clothing, right?  Ummm, how about no...  Never mind the boy is four and the daughter in question is eleven...

There's one bathroom in the house and he's potty training two toddlers.  They both had to go at the same time.  How does he determine which one is the urgent one?  They both looked real uncomfortable to me.

Both need to be bathed at the same time too, and neither one wants to go first.  How does he handle that?  And God forbid one goes to bed before the other.  How is he able to be in both bedrooms at the same time?

I don't think I've ever been as happy to see a man walk through the door as I was to see SuperDad come home to the rescue with a bag of KFC in his arms.  He was like a knight in shining armor.  I don't care much for KFC, especially now that I'm trying to keep my girlish figure, but I wasn't gonna complain, nope, not I.

But at the end of the day, even when off duty due to my rescue, I couldn't stop.  I hand fed the little girl, even though I really shouldn't have.  She's old enough to eat on her own, and I know she totally took advantage of me and had me wrapped around her little finger.  I tidied up her bed before tucking her in for the night.  She wrapped her little arms around me and bid me good night.  The little guy may not have shown me much affection at bed time, but made sure to strut his stuff for me after his bath.

Worn out and tired, wondering how I was going to drive myself home, I didn't want to leave.  Those kids are awesome.  Thank goodness I was taking one of them home with me.  My babe.  Dayton.  He took his job of helping me watch the kids very seriously, and had my back the whole time.  And SuperDad...  He's pretty awesome too.  I mean, he's SuperDad!

So, I've cracked SuperDad's super human power.  I figured out how he handles five kids all on his own.  I no longer have to wonder how he's able to manage.  It's called unconditional love.  I've heard of this strange phenomenon, and have that with my son, and now I've seen it between a father and his kids.  And I got a little of that magical stuff myself from these awesome kids.  But I must warn you.  Don't try this at home alone.  It is highly addicting, and very confusing.  One minute they love you, love you, love you, and the next, well, let's just say I thought I was growing horns and could have sworn I had a tail.  Even so, I know they care about me.  They may say no, but their little arms wrapped around me and the screams for 'Lou' tell me another thing all together.

SuperDad's life is super busy with the five kids and exhausting by the end of the day, but what I'd give to have all that love...  I no longer feel 'sorry' for him.  I envy him.  He is wealthy beyond our wildest dreams.  And once a week, I get to be selfish and share a few moments of this wonderful phenomenon.  God is good.


Wishing I could do a better job of verbally expressing these hugs to all of you,

Lou

Morning Drill By Sargent Underpants

It's one of those mornings where I have unrealistic expectations of my morning coffee, again...  I AM SO TIRED!!!  I'm stressed, I'm still sicker than a dog with this terrible cold (almost three weeks of coughing is enough to drive any woman insane), doing my best to help out my friend struggling with addiction, and worried about Dayton's grandpa Jerry and praying to God we make it home in time to say good bye, while still praying for a miracle.  It seems my life has become much more busier than it had while teaching at the college...  How does that happen?

Crawling out of bed on four hours of sleep because I've been up till 2:30 in the morning due to my ever persistent cough, I stumbled into the kitchen to make a coffee while thinking up of an excellent TV commercial for Tim Hortons:  A man drives through the drive through and makes three large grunts.  A happy, chirpy voice comes through the intercom:  "Yes, sir, an extra large double double coming right up!"  Ummmmmmmm...  What I'd do for a Timmy's coffee right about now!!!

I somehow make it to my Tassimo machine with eyes closed shut, still sleeping yet awake just barely enough to find a vanilla bean coffee diskette...  Ummmmmm coffee...  The aroma of vanilla bean brewing makes my mouth water...  and then:  "Mamma!  Breakfast!"  Just like that, my morning romance is over.

Sleeping in is not an option in my house.  Dayton gets up at 7 am, rain or shine, snow blizzard or hail, school day or not.  His internal clock has no "off switch."   I'm thinking the least he could do is wake up with a smile on his face and cuddle up to me, but nooooo...  He's even grumpier than I am in the mornings.  Maybe my vision of the Tim Horton's commercial is actually a preview of Dayton as an adult!  I'm tempted to get him a double double right now!

Our mornings have evolved somewhat since toddler hood, however things are still in a rigid, self imposed schedule for Dayton on weekday mornings.  For some reason he has a whole other schedule for the weekends.  Mind you, so do I.  I cover his window with a black blanket on the weekends, praying for an extra hour of sleep...  I'm gonna have to pray harder.  When we're out visiting someone over night, he's totally awesome, and when we go camping, he actually sleeps in!  Why are weekdays so horrible for us (me)?!

So, our weekday morning schedule (I say our, because I am very much involved, whether or not I'm awake, sick or stressed) always begins with "Mamma, breakfast." 
"Excuse me?  Aren't we forgetting something?"
"Please."  You'd think he'd just say it, it's the same freaking argument every morning.  I bring his royal highness his cereal and his medication. 
"Fairly Odd Parents mamma."  He grabs the remote and switches the TV channel to YTV.  I'm so sick of YTV, and if it wasn't for my coffee, I'm sure I'd have thrown the TV out the window by now.

7:30 comes around, Fairly Odd Parents is finally over, and I tell Dayton it's time for a shower. 
"OK mamma, but when I'm done, if I'm still hungry, can I have some more cereal?"  I don't understand why he asks this question, as we never end up having enough time, and he never asks for more cereal when he's done his shower. 
"Yeah babe."
"Tell me when I've been in the shower for one minute."  I don't think I'll ever understand this request either.  What difference does it make?  I'm tired, let's just get this done and over with...  ugh!  But as always, I'm too afraid to rock the boat, so I give him my usual response:  "Yes babe."

"Dayton, you've been in there one minute!"
"Awwwwww."
"In about eight to nine minutes he comes out, dries off and runs into the living room naked, looking for the clothes I always have to get ready for him while he's in the shower.  He gets dressed, then he watches the end of SpongeBob SquarePants, another cartoon I'd rather not have seen...  Then it's time to go out and wait for the school bus.

"Dayton, get your shoes/boots on."
"Awwwww...."  (I'm not kidding, EVERY MORNING!!!)
"Dayton, you put your shoes on the wrong feet!  Fix it please."  (I'm not kidding, EVERY MORNING!!!)
"Awwww."  Seriously, every morning.  Why are we not learning from these incidents?!  How I wish I could just tell him to 'get ready for school,' but he wouldn't know where to start.  I have to give him one instruction at a time...
"OK buddy, time to get your jacket on."
"Awwwww...."  No joke.
"Put your back pack on babe.  Let's roll."
"Awwwww..."  Argh.

"Mamma, let's play red light, green light."  How I hate this game.  He doesn't play fair.  I always lose and spill my coffee on myself.  I do my best not to wear white shirts in the mornings.

And then I see the bus.  Wooooohooooooo!!!
"Bye babe, mamma loves you!"
"Awwwww..."  I'm gonna take that as I love you too mom. 



Consider yourselves hugged,

Lou