"B-O-M, Bomb, Mom!"

When Morgan, in soapy letters, spelled that out in the shower tonight, my first thought wasn't, "Cool, the kiddo's working on his spelling skills!" Because, after all, that would be a reaction of relaxed, non neurotic mother of a NT (neurologically typical, or neurotypical for those unfamiliar with the term) first grader who isn't constantly on edge and in fear that someone, namely a school official, is going to accuse her son of even odder behavior than he's already displaying. No, no... my first reaction was to say "Darlin' it's spelled, 'b-o-m-b,' and please don't ever say that at school. We're in something called a post 9/11 fearpocaplyse and ever since Columbine- that was way before you were born- teachers are pretty touchy about kids saying stuff like that." I peered into the shower as those huge eyes looked soulfully up at me and his husky voice said, "but I was just spelling, Mommy." I felt like crap. I also felt like Morgan, without even knowing, had summed up in one word my whole evening with him- bomb.

This whole school year has been one big bundle of nerves, tears, shakes, and pent up rage for me. Yet, I always wonder how is it for my son? How does he feel? He's gotten into the car many times near tears, once actually IN tears from bullies at recess, always exhausted looking, usually talking about feeling left out. He's rarely very happy, unless something super cool has happened- like the day he brought home a 103 on a spelling test. Because of his ASD, he can't read social cues very well. He thinks kids are making fun of him when they aren't, but when they are... he doesn't pick up on it. The day he was beaten up was awful, too awful for me to want to rehash.

He has a wonderful homeroom teacher that's his savior, as is his resource teacher. Due to state standards, kids are changing classes twice as day for reading and math based on their 'level.' Since they began changing classes, they've moved math from the afternoons to the morning and also made the kids eat lunch with their math class, not homeroom.To any young child, change can be hard. To Morgan, it's been as if the Earth has fallen of its axis.

I never know what to expect. As he's gone further into school, I've literally watched my child go deeper into a rabbit hole that I cannot follow him into. His stimming has gotten worse (stimming- self stimulating behavior)... Morgan was bouncing like a damned kangaroo this evening while cutting out shapes for math homework- work he didn't finish this week, for four days in a row. He's violently twitching his head, making his train sounds (since the age of age of 4, whenever nervous, stressed, or excited), pulling on his hair, twirling his hair, wanting to be petted, petting people, picking at his skin, licking his mouth/around his mouth so that it's staying so chapped it looks like he has burns.. you get the picture.

Then there's the suspected neural seizures that his former pediatrician wanted to put off getting checked out... the ones that first got brought up when he was THREE and I've been getting the brush off from every flippin' doc since then with them saying that he'll grow out of them, they aren't dangerous, no permanent brain damage, etc. They're scary! When you see your child recede into himself, just in midsentence, like there is no soul in him and no even a bucket of ice over his head will bring him to- that's terrifying. I used to yell, thinking that he was ignoring me. Now, I just want to cry. I'm dropping off paperwork this week for a new ped and just insisting on an appointment in the next week or two- then an EEG. Period.

I do find silver linings every day, I promise. I have to look hard sometimes, but I find them...and they're always found in Morgan.

Morgan had his first ever friend sleep over. By that, I mean Morgan made a friend. I also mean that Morgan also had said friend sleep over! This was Friday night. I hope he and the boy had a good time. It seemed like they did. The boy was confused about some of Morgan's behavior, like why Morgan wasn't wanting to play sometimes,why I had to remind him a lot that he had a friend here, to be a good host, etc., but I finally did what I thought was right and told the other boy that Morgan has autism. I gave him simple terms, told him that Morgan's brain is wired differently, but that he's still great. C, the little boy, agreed and said that Morgan's still his best bud.  Then he taught Morgan 'your mom' jokes. I hope Bay, my preschooler, didn't pick any of that up....

The silver lining today was getting Morgan to actually play with his K'nex set like he's "supposed" to. You know, build things? Not load 'logs' onto cargo cars for Thomas the friggin' Tank Engine and his friends? I hate that stupid hunk of plastic so badly and all of those other trains. I get that's Morgan's thing. I get that I'm part of the fuel in the obsession and this is part of his AS. But Lord, sometimes I want to pile every single one of those on top of his train table, douse everything with gasoline and light a match. Then dance around the fire like a crazy woman. Of course, that would be truly insane. But it does make me grin. Anyways, Bay cried because Morgan wouldn't 'really play' with him- all he wanted to do was watch Thomas and play Thomas trains.

Bay wanted that K'nex set, bad. I wanted Morgan to USE the set, bad. Then it dawned on me it was a fine motor skill therapy! Oh God, if I could get him to use his fingers to build things with tiny pieces- he could, I don't know, write neatly one day or tie his shoes!!!! It took coaxing, pleading, bossing, and nearly two hours, but Morgan finally built a motorcycle in five steps!!! He only needed my help on a couple of things!!! Yay! And then Bay commandeered the rest and Thomas the Tank Engine came back on. Baby steps....

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