Sunday, June 16, 2013

Demons Winning Today

This post is not a happy or funny one. If your children are neurotypical, or simply normal, then perhaps today's entry isn't for you. I am not being elitist. My babies are members of a club I'd give my soul to quit.

 I have a twisted sense of humor.  That is no shock to anyone. I admit freely to enjoying the parenting one-upmanship game sometimes. Seeing my son's face as he thinks he's pulling one over on me only to learn that I have completely won. Sometimes, yes...it is humorous to watch. Other times, no it's not fun.

I have spent the entire day trying to teach Connor to respect work that others do for her.  Namely respect the effort I put into laundry. For months now she has been taking clean clothes and either stuffing them on the floor of her closet or putting them on her bed under the sheets and sleeping with them.  Then she suddenly can't find a shirt she wants or a uniform she needs and it's a 4 alarm alert for all of us to find it.  I've tried yelling, bargaining, having her do her own laundry everything I could think of to try to stop her.  There is a lot of effort in doing laundry for five people and I think she should respect and appreciate it.

Yesterday I walked by her room and I saw a basket of clean folded clothes tipped on its side, clothes strewn everywhere.  Annoying for sure, but what sent me over the edge was trash all over her floor; combined with visibly dirty clothes now entwined with the clean ones. Walking into her room and opening the closet revealed not one but two complete school uniforms...still on their hangers....crumpled in a heap underneath a pile of clothes.

Enough.  This has to stop.  There is nothing cute or funny about this behavior. Many moms I know would just complain and clean it up themselves, arguing that its just easier to do themselves. I can not do that. Not simply just because I don't want to, but because I am actually frightened about the consequences if I do.

When you live with Autistics, no matter how mild or severe, your life is about consequences.  Every single moment in your life is broken down into different consequences for actions.  This is how my girls learn for the most part.  For many neutrotypical families its enough to say, " Please do A, B and C, " repeat request as often as needed.  

My life is constantly saying, "Please do A,B,C and if you do not, D, E and F will happen" repeat 1-30 times.  Find out that message about A and C were understood but B has been lost in the translation. Now I must think of a new consequence, perhaps G, H or I or even 1,2 or 3.  Then I repeat this another 1-50 times and hope that works. 

Here's the catch though...what leaves me in tears most days. I don't know if my consequences are too tough, or not tough enough to teach them.

I have had Connor  doing laundry all day.  By all day, I mean she has either done laundry or cleaned her room. Not being the evil monster she thinks I am, I have allowed morning tea, lunch and afternoon tea breaks.  She had time to watch her new fav movie, Alice in Wonderland this morning before we started.  She was allowed to play her iPod in her room to listen to music but chose not to.   I made her hang 3 loads of laundry out on the line, sort and fold laundry into everyone's baskets and hang 3 school uniforms each for her and her sister.

I explained she would not being going to the park at all today and that she would be doing laundry the rest of the week and that set off  a somewhat impressive sob show. Unfortunately for her I've seen 1000's of sob shows and this didn't rate too high on my list. I could give her points for variety, she did complain about 6 different tasks but I felt as if the tears were just phoned in.  She cried because she was tired, because she was cold and because she thought she saw a bee outside that was pointing its stinger at her.   I did like the pointing stinger bit. Really painted quite the picture of the bee hunting her down.  I calmed her down with every meltdown and sent her back to work.

I started to make sandwiches for the lunches during the week. What Connor failed to notice was I have spent the day doing chores as well.  I wanted to get ahead a bit because we have to leave an hour early on Monday mornings for Connor's band practice.  After she was done hanging the last bit of laundry I asked Connor bring me her lunch box.  She hemmed and hawed and said she needed a minute to throw out her sandwich crusts.  I looked over her shoulder and no crusts,  it was the whole sandwich. She lied to me.  Not for the first time.  The lunches is another problem we've been having.  For about 2 years now I've been trying to get her to eat her lunch or at least admit to me when she doesn't. 

I'm supposed to be the adult here but after an entire day of battle I was done.  How can I not be annoyed and even hurt by someone I love lying to me about something as stupid as a sandwich? 

I banished her to her room for the afternoon after decreeing that on top of the laundry she would now be making sandwiches the rest of the week.

But as I sit here typing this...both of us in tears...I have that doubt clouding my mind.  Does she understand that I am hurt?Can she understand?  Can she even grasp the importance of respect?  Am I just kicking a puppy? Is this the same as yelling at a child in a wheelchair for not putting a book away on the top shelf? I don't know anymore. I don't enjoy being the hard ass mom. Not one bit. I'm so scared that if I am not then she will grow up not knowing how to act and people won't forgive her for that. We all know and remember that weird kid...the one who acted strange or selfish. We all remember how everyone treated him or her too.

I can't bear the thought of people hurting her for things beyond her control.

Yet today I can't see that.  All I see is four months into this laundry learning lesson and two years with the lunches and I'm no further along now than I was at the beginning. It's so disheartening. If I can't teach her these things how on earth will I be able to teach her more complex issues? Things like protecting herself from predators, or how to choose friends or how to express herself in a positive way?   Right now, I'm scared I can't.

Today I don't feel like the mother, geek, or writer I have been trying to become.  I'm the evil troll mom I always joke about.  It turns out that really being the troll isn't near as much fun as pretending to be one.