Weekend
Worst.
Weekend.
Ever.
So, it all started on Thursday when the 'fridge gave up the ghost. It had been plotting and planning and waited until my wife had gone to the grocery store and filled him with tons of food. I came home and found the fridge smirking and churning lukewarm air into the fridge. After throwing out hundreds of dollars worth of now spoiled food. The fridge guy came and $247 later and 9 minutes of labor he replaced the errant part. Whatever. The dishwasher must have been feeling neglected because he decided to run a few cycles without opening the soap dispenser. I threatened said appliance with percussive maintenance involving crowbars which got his attention and he's now working without any $247 parts.
Thursday night my wife and I packed the whole crew up for a trip to the beach. After packing most of what we owned into the Family Truckster (TM) we collapsed, exhausted onto the couch. If we were on the highway and some sort of Mt. Vesuvius style disaster befell us, anthropologists would declare us to be a family of nomads like the Indians. I was always told as a kid that the Cherokee Nation was wherever the people were. That is, they took it with them when they went. I'm starting to think they were just taking the kids to the beach and got lost or something.
We drive up on Friday afternoon and we did OK with traffic and since we were taking some God forsaken back road through the pine barrens we took a wrong turn (Mapquest is run by fantasists.). The directions told me to take Rte 70 North. Sounds good except my options were East and West. We had to backtrack about 15 minutes but in the end, no big deal.
We get to the beach house and I took #2 and #3 for minigolf and ice cream. I started to suspect something was wrong when #3 took one small bite of his ice cream and said he was done. Around 11:00 PM he's crying and I go to check on him. Shaking uncontrollably? Check. Sweating like Smarty Jones at Preakness? Check. Burning fever? Check. Fabulous. Get him some Motrin and back to sleep. 11 minutes later he's crying and complaining that his brother has taken his toy. Yes, the brother in the next bed who's sleeping like a log and snoring to wake the dead. Temperature check: 103. Oh, this is going to be a fun night. Motrin kicks in and fever goes down but he's still crying and waking up every 15 minutes or so. I give up and just sleep in the bed with him rather than ping pong back and forth between room. Meanwhile, the baby decided to get in on the action by teething. Baby goes into bed with Mom to replicate the same scenario taking place next door but with less dialogue. Continue until 5 AM when the other two decide to start their day.
I crash until 9:30 or so when my wife wakes me.
"It's 9:30, do you want to sleep more?"
"No! I want to get the hell out of here!"
Downstairs, two healthy children are at the beach with various relatives. Baby is in playgym and #3 is watching cartoons and whining on the couch.
I pack repack the car I unloaded not 12 hours ago and curse the entire time.
Finally I go to the beach to get #1 and #2. They're having the time of their lives. #1 loves the stimulous of the beach. The water is a balmy 64 degrees and the rip current is fierce. Lifeguards are standing in ankle deep water with rescue buoys just waiting for someone to go under. The undertow is so strong I have trouble keeping my feet. #1 son laughs when his feet go out from under him and I struggle to keep him from being sucked out. This becomes increasingly problematic as he's well over 60 lbs. and this kind of current is going to be a problem for both of us in a minute. I have to carry him off the beach like I'm boating a Marlin. Howls of protest continue until we're back at the house. #2 leaves with little complaint. He's thrilled to have gone to the beach. He can't wait to show Mommy the clam shell he found.
We get back to the car and stuff the kids into their seats. The baby is tired and needs a nap. #1 is wired and gives his shrieking vocalizations of excitement which make the baby cry. It startles him (baby) and he's so tired at this point he cries readily. #3's fever is coming back and he cries. The whole way home. Three straight hours. I mean that literally. He does not stop until he's on our couch at home.
Get everyone home and #3 off to the doctor for an exam where it's determined to be tonsilitis.
Everyone off to bed and Saturday night becomes very simliar to Friday night. This time I opt to ping pong back and forth between rooms until 4:30 when #1 decides he's not tired any more. One thing about autistic kids (well, mine anyway) is that he is like a lightswitch. Either he's completely off or completely on. There's very rarely a period of grogginess when he wakes up. Usually, he bolts out of bed and he's wide awake.
Saturday, we decide to fill the backyard pool (above ground inflatable job). It took me all of the previous weekend to create a level spot for it and many hours of running the hose to fill. We get everyone suited up, slather on the sunscreen and into the pool. Nine seconds after he gets in the pool #1 poops in the pool.
What follows was much like Caddyshack. Everyone out, inside and into the shower. Lucky me gets to skim the pool. I then shock the pool with enough chemicals to defoliate Vietnam (again).
I get in and shower off as well. So much for going in the pool for the next few days.
#1 is now incensed that he's confined to the house and not allowed in the pool. He's combative the remainder of the day. Crying jags to boot.
Finally, finally (!) get the kids off to bed. Neither of us has any energy to clean thedisaster house. We watch a few minutes of TV and then off to bed.
One hour later the baby is crying. Somehow he's soaking wet. Change the baby, the sheets, blankets etc. Finally get him back to bed and then.....
#3 is crying. Fever is spiking and it's time for more Motrin. I get the magic elixir and give it to him. One sip and he pukes like a frat boy during hell week. I mean, everywhere. OK, off to the shower, change sheets, blankets, carpet, bathroom carpets etc.
Repeat of Friday night with Daddy, once again, ping ponging back and forth to the boy's room. #1 is awake promply at 4:30 AM for the day.
Needless to say, I'm not a happy camper today.
Weekend.
Ever.
So, it all started on Thursday when the 'fridge gave up the ghost. It had been plotting and planning and waited until my wife had gone to the grocery store and filled him with tons of food. I came home and found the fridge smirking and churning lukewarm air into the fridge. After throwing out hundreds of dollars worth of now spoiled food. The fridge guy came and $247 later and 9 minutes of labor he replaced the errant part. Whatever. The dishwasher must have been feeling neglected because he decided to run a few cycles without opening the soap dispenser. I threatened said appliance with percussive maintenance involving crowbars which got his attention and he's now working without any $247 parts.
Thursday night my wife and I packed the whole crew up for a trip to the beach. After packing most of what we owned into the Family Truckster (TM) we collapsed, exhausted onto the couch. If we were on the highway and some sort of Mt. Vesuvius style disaster befell us, anthropologists would declare us to be a family of nomads like the Indians. I was always told as a kid that the Cherokee Nation was wherever the people were. That is, they took it with them when they went. I'm starting to think they were just taking the kids to the beach and got lost or something.
We drive up on Friday afternoon and we did OK with traffic and since we were taking some God forsaken back road through the pine barrens we took a wrong turn (Mapquest is run by fantasists.). The directions told me to take Rte 70 North. Sounds good except my options were East and West. We had to backtrack about 15 minutes but in the end, no big deal.
We get to the beach house and I took #2 and #3 for minigolf and ice cream. I started to suspect something was wrong when #3 took one small bite of his ice cream and said he was done. Around 11:00 PM he's crying and I go to check on him. Shaking uncontrollably? Check. Sweating like Smarty Jones at Preakness? Check. Burning fever? Check. Fabulous. Get him some Motrin and back to sleep. 11 minutes later he's crying and complaining that his brother has taken his toy. Yes, the brother in the next bed who's sleeping like a log and snoring to wake the dead. Temperature check: 103. Oh, this is going to be a fun night. Motrin kicks in and fever goes down but he's still crying and waking up every 15 minutes or so. I give up and just sleep in the bed with him rather than ping pong back and forth between room. Meanwhile, the baby decided to get in on the action by teething. Baby goes into bed with Mom to replicate the same scenario taking place next door but with less dialogue. Continue until 5 AM when the other two decide to start their day.
I crash until 9:30 or so when my wife wakes me.
"It's 9:30, do you want to sleep more?"
"No! I want to get the hell out of here!"
Downstairs, two healthy children are at the beach with various relatives. Baby is in playgym and #3 is watching cartoons and whining on the couch.
I pack repack the car I unloaded not 12 hours ago and curse the entire time.
Finally I go to the beach to get #1 and #2. They're having the time of their lives. #1 loves the stimulous of the beach. The water is a balmy 64 degrees and the rip current is fierce. Lifeguards are standing in ankle deep water with rescue buoys just waiting for someone to go under. The undertow is so strong I have trouble keeping my feet. #1 son laughs when his feet go out from under him and I struggle to keep him from being sucked out. This becomes increasingly problematic as he's well over 60 lbs. and this kind of current is going to be a problem for both of us in a minute. I have to carry him off the beach like I'm boating a Marlin. Howls of protest continue until we're back at the house. #2 leaves with little complaint. He's thrilled to have gone to the beach. He can't wait to show Mommy the clam shell he found.
We get back to the car and stuff the kids into their seats. The baby is tired and needs a nap. #1 is wired and gives his shrieking vocalizations of excitement which make the baby cry. It startles him (baby) and he's so tired at this point he cries readily. #3's fever is coming back and he cries. The whole way home. Three straight hours. I mean that literally. He does not stop until he's on our couch at home.
Get everyone home and #3 off to the doctor for an exam where it's determined to be tonsilitis.
Everyone off to bed and Saturday night becomes very simliar to Friday night. This time I opt to ping pong back and forth between rooms until 4:30 when #1 decides he's not tired any more. One thing about autistic kids (well, mine anyway) is that he is like a lightswitch. Either he's completely off or completely on. There's very rarely a period of grogginess when he wakes up. Usually, he bolts out of bed and he's wide awake.
Saturday, we decide to fill the backyard pool (above ground inflatable job). It took me all of the previous weekend to create a level spot for it and many hours of running the hose to fill. We get everyone suited up, slather on the sunscreen and into the pool. Nine seconds after he gets in the pool #1 poops in the pool.
What follows was much like Caddyshack. Everyone out, inside and into the shower. Lucky me gets to skim the pool. I then shock the pool with enough chemicals to defoliate Vietnam (again).
I get in and shower off as well. So much for going in the pool for the next few days.
#1 is now incensed that he's confined to the house and not allowed in the pool. He's combative the remainder of the day. Crying jags to boot.
Finally, finally (!) get the kids off to bed. Neither of us has any energy to clean the
One hour later the baby is crying. Somehow he's soaking wet. Change the baby, the sheets, blankets etc. Finally get him back to bed and then.....
#3 is crying. Fever is spiking and it's time for more Motrin. I get the magic elixir and give it to him. One sip and he pukes like a frat boy during hell week. I mean, everywhere. OK, off to the shower, change sheets, blankets, carpet, bathroom carpets etc.
Repeat of Friday night with Daddy, once again, ping ponging back and forth to the boy's room. #1 is awake promply at 4:30 AM for the day.
Needless to say, I'm not a happy camper today.
Comments
He also didn't sleep the first night back (which is normal). He was up at like 3:00 for the day. Breaks in his routine like that usually do that.
Don't worry about asking questions about autism or my son, I'm always happy to talk about it.
Doh! Well, I just shelled out $900 to get my townhouse treated for the termites I discovered had been munching away on the garage door trim. Funny, you'd have thought they'd use pressure-treated wood for that sort of thing.
Anyway, half way through the process, the termite guy sliced his leg open with a box cutter, and my wife found him lying on the garage floor, bleeding profusely, and had to bandage him up with a maxi pad and hockey tape so he could make it to the hospital. Hey, they work!
I'm also waiting for my clothes dryer to follow the washing machine to the scrap yard - I suspect my wife of having Münchhausen by proxy appliance!
You and I seem to be on the receiving end of the universe's ire of late. Remind me to steer clear of you on the street. The results could be disastrous.