Sacred Monday

Ah.....Monday.  Do you hear that?  Nothing.  Quiet at last.  The children are off to school.  The hubby is at work and here I sit with a real woman sized cup of coffee reflecting on the chaos of my morning.

My son had his usual Monday morning meltdown.  My son is 12 and autistic.  He did not want to get up today.  He did not want to take his shower today, nor did he think he had to go to school.  Why should he?  He already knows what he thinks every 12 year old needs to know get get through each day.  So what's the point.  In his world of computers and video games and books all is complete and there is no room for such foolish and time comsuming things as school!

So, after what I consider to be a medium sized battle of the wills, he is showered and dressed and racing for the kitchen in hopes of beating his 11 year old sister to the best seat at the kitchen table and control of the all important television remote control.    This morning, he lost.  His sister was downstairs first.  Let the next battle begin.

He is screaming.  Why?  Just because he can.  You know.  For effect.  My son is autistic.  He did not speak for the first four years of his life.  We worked with him.  Specialists worked with him.  We hoped and prayed.  Blessed him with Holy water.  Be careful of what you wish for.  He talks.  Oh does he ever!  In fact, we can never get him to stop talking.  I mean it's bad when a parent tells their own kid to "shut up!"  But I mean....even in his sleep!  On and on and on he goes.......

So back to the screaming in the kitchen.  So, while I am pouring juice, packing lunches, making pancakes, dishing out vitamins, brushing hair, getting book bags packed, along with making sure children are wearing two matching socks and sneakers for gym today, now I have to once again stand in between two fighting children over the television and yell louder so that they can hear me and tell them that there will be NO tv viewing if they cannot get along.  He cries.  She laughs.  He gets even angrier and proceeds to stab his sister on the outside of her hand with his fork!

Thankfully, she (having grown up with this morning routine) is adept at foreseeing his actions and moved her hand so that she was just grazed ever so slightly.  She looked hurt.  He is still screaming.  I am wishing I was anywhere else and wondering what I did in a past life that bought me this Karma during this life!

There are only about four minutes until his bus arrives, so I cram on his sneakers (not an easy task with his size 11's!) and shove his book bag on his back.  Glasses on.  Check.  Lunchbox.  Check.  "Oh look!  Here's the bus!"  A yellow suburban pulls up in front of our house.  He growls at the bus driver and gets in.  I slam the door and blow him a kiss.  One down.  One to go.

Same checklist.  Different child.  Teeth and hair brushed.  Get in the car.  I may as well set my SUV on auto-pilot for the school.  I drop her off and tell her I love her and to have a wonderful day.  I speed away and head to Dunkin Donuts for what I like to call a "Real Woman" sized cup of coffee.  The first sip of that hot, fragrant elixir and most of my chaotic morning seems a distant memory.  I am revived.  With coffee I can do anything!  Well, almost anything.  Now onto the dishes, laundry, floors, dusting, etc.   

"Life with Laura" should really be called "Everyday Crap" I think.