A "Normal" Day

I think for one 24 hour period, I'd like to know what it's like to be the mother of "normal" 4th grader. I normally hate that term, and avoid it's use, but given my frustration level at this moment, it's probably pretty accurate. Now I know that life isn't perfect for anyone. As a friend in college was so often heard saying "We all have our crosses to bear." I know that people out there in the "normal" world also experience their frustrations, but just for one whole day, I'd like to experience a day without the following:

1. That upon summoning the child out of bed, I won't get growled at or yelled at.
2. That I wouldn't have to hear "I don't want to go to school" several times before 6AM.
3. That conversations between Tom and I over coffee would not be interrupted.
4. That there would be no complaints about chunks in the breakfast yogurt.
5. That no prompting to get dressed would be needed.
6. That all materials for the school backpack, coats and shoes would not have to collected by me first.
7. That I would not have to worry all day about how things are going in school.
8. That I would not have to get an email at 2PM from the teacher about Sam's bad day.
9. That I would not have to worry about how to handle the situation in school, knowing I should somehow address it, but having no idea what kind of thing would even make a difference.
10. That I wouldn't feel as if I am re-inventing the parenting wheel each and every day.
11. That I could count on the fact that all coats, shoes, backpacks, etc would be put away when arriving home from school.
12. That I would not have to hear in excrutiating detail every nuance of every Thomas the tank engine story.
13. That an idea I have about an activity to do would not be met with negativity.
14. That I would not have to make an entirely seperate meal from what I'm already cooking.
15. That I would not have to hear endless whining about not being able to go first playing Wii, or not winning at Wii.
16. That major anxiety attacks would not accompany bedtime (yes, the last thing had going for us seems to have fallen by the way side too!)
17. That I would not have to wonder for the millionth time if my son was ever going to be able to live as a productive adult.
18. That Sam has no friends that he has made on his own, and doesn't seem to "get" that his crappy behavior makes a negative impression on others.

Writing it all down doesn't help. This is the holiday fun I am dealing with. I hate to bitch- it makes me feel guilty, cause so many I know have it so much worse. Those dealing with disease, several mental or physical handicaps, drug abuse, alcoholism or a host of other issues. I'm sane (barely), Tom is sane (sometimes too sane) and we are dealing with HIGH functioning autism here. Days like these make me wonder what is just so "high" about it.

Somtimes I feel like I'm dealing with Helen Keller....

And today is one of those times. Everyone remembers the story of Helen Keller, who was blind and deaf, and her teacher, Ann Sullivan, who became the one to finally free her from her world of isolation. I sometimes feel like Sam is unreachable. I struggle during these times like Ann Sullivan must have struggled, having the knowledge as teacher about what she wanted to teach, but unsure about how to get the information to her student. Sam is going through a period right now where he is obviously struggling with something internally. It's manifesting itself in escalating behaviors at school, back talk and screaming at home, and basically melt-downs at every moment when he is challenged or frustrated. I wish it were a matter of being able to sit him down and ask him what is bothering him. It's almost like he doesn't conciously know that something IS bothering him, let alone put it into words. Instead, little things that don't ordinarily cause distress (like a trip to get a hair cut) produce a 1/2 hour standoff and tantrum. I feel like I continuously search my brain for some way to get through to him during these episodes. I feel so inept- what can I do to help? We try to tighten up on the limit-setting, we try to spotlight good behavior, we try "re-sets". Still the short fuse remains. It kills me when I get to the breaking point, when I've heard screaming for the 10th time in one day, when I hear him arguing with everything anyone says, when the expectation sheet comes back from school with yet more dashes. I pray constantly for strength to be able to ride it out. I pray that I can someday do what Ann Sullivan did- find a way to penetrate a pretty stubborn wall of resistance.

Templeton

Incidents like what happened tonight at the library make me realize how hard it is to exist in the real world sometimes. Sam was excited to go and see real live rats at the library. (the pet kind, not the wild kind) It was actually a program meant for older kids to discuss "Charlotte's Web" and someone from a local pet store was bringing in pet rats. I was hoping to just go in, peek at the rats, then head home. Well, we ended up sitting through a portion of the program, and Sam was very excited and wanting to touch and be up close. I managed to hold him off pretty well and to his credit, he did ok with waiting and even sitting and listening. (when I say he did ok here, you have to picture what "ok" means for Sam. I'm sure its nothing like what would be acceptable for most kids, but for me since he didn't just take off after the rats immediately and could be managed through verbal prompts for a short time, that was a success story) Anyway, when it came time to be able to touch the rat and feed it a sunflower seed, it got to be too much for him and he pinched the rat (kind of on the scruff of the neck like you would a cat) and then proceeded to scream at it a couple of times. Of course the thing was petrified, but luckily the handler had control of it. I'm sure she and everyone else in the room was disgusted by Sam's behavior, but I didn't stick around to find out. We left immediately.
I've gotten over the whole thing about how people react when things like that happen. They don't live my life or even know what it's like to deal with our issues, and frankly for the most part I don't care what a stranger's opinion is. I know the people who were there who know us will understand and probably feel sympathy for us. That's all that counts.
The one thing I'm still struggling with is my reaction to the situation. Somehow it doesn't seem appropriate to just not react at all (as if I could manage that!), but also blowing up and making a scene isn't the right approach. I guess what I'm getting at is that now I feel like my reaction has more to do with how bad I feel about his inability to handle things, than it has to do with being embarassed or disappointed that things like this often end in disaster. I'm reacting to the frustration that I feel when he can't do and experience things the way most kids can.
I don't know what else to do but to keep trying. It's like getting thrown off the horse and having to keep getting back on. I guess I shouldn't look at it as one day we are going to a program and it's going to be a complete success, perfect from beginning to end. I need to look at it as a process. Small things get better each time. Maybe I need to be able to pick up on cues better- know when he's not gonna be able to handle something and react before the problems occur.
I suppose I'm only human. I hope that each time we try something a little risky that the outcome is going to be a positive one. Maybe I just need to pick out the positives in each experience and learn from the negatives.