At the end of yesterday's post I wrote about dirty clothes in Sean's room. Last night Rich asked, "How did you go from talking about ham sandwiches to dirty clothes?"
I guess that's how my mind has been this month (notice I didn't say "week").
In other words, completely unlike Sean.
Ashley is 5 years old and very demanding. I try to sit and write while she's playing quietly but inevitably, the call will come for a popsicle, a tissue, a "mommy moment."
I couldn't focus on something more than 10 minutes if I wanted to.
So it was yesterday, nearing the end of my post, that "M-o-m-m-y" (she's beginning to spell) rang out from the bathroom. After I attended to her, I walked past Sean's room.
It is then that I spied the pile of dirty clothes.
A more-than-frustrated sigh escaped from me and my only thought was, "Did I not tell him to get his dirty clothes and he came out with an armful?"
I gathered the pile up and dumped them in the washing machine.
Yet another battle to be fought....
And this one doesn't have anything to do with ham sandwiches, Sean's texture issues, and my own mommy guilt.
It's about the literalness that comes with autism.
You see.... I told Sean to get his dirty clothes out of the cubby in his loft bed.
I did not tell him to get the clothes that were on the floor.
Therefore, he didn't....
Was I angry with him yesterday? For a split-second, yes. And then I realized what I had said... and not said.
In my unfocused, over-tired, overwhelmed world, I had forgotten.
Thus, the battle that rages on is not with sandwiches or dirty laundry or getting a grip on my life.
It is with Autism.
So bring it on Autism. Bring it on.
Give me what you got because I got more....
I have the love for my son....
And that is the most powerful weapon of all.