Today is one of those days. Our son woke in one of his full blown, manic, obsessive moods. Days like these are "managed". All we can do is hope to channel his energy into positive directions and hang on for the ride.
I woke up before our alarm went off this morning to the sound of someone rummaging through my bathroom vanity drawers. No question. I knew who was doing the rummaging so I called out to my youngest son and asked him what he needed. He appeared beside me, completely dressed and ready for church. Instead of answering me, he launched into an animated conversation about his outfit and the fact that he just needed socks and sneakers and he was ready to go. When I told him he looked very handsome but he needed to get a bath, he got very upset with me and left the room. He never closed the vanity drawer, retrieved what he wanted, or completed that thought pattern.
We finally got him into a tub and started that process. While laying out his towel and gathering his clothes to redress, we discovered he was wearing an old pair of old pants that were too tight and no underwear so we found a clean pair of underwear and switched pants. While dripping wet, he declared that he wanted french toast sticks and sausage for breakfast. As I went to work making coffee and starting his breakfast, he bopped around and weaved in and out attempting to "help". I finally told him to take his milk to the table and sit down. He sat for two seconds before popping back off to wander off on another train of thought. Knowing we wouldn't get anywhere soon with him as he was, I called him out to take his medicine. We were going to need all the help today that we could get.
In the living room, on the coffee table, I discovered a quart size Ziploc bag labeled "Easter Gift Bag". In it were pieces of paper in different shades of blue. In addition, I also found a bowl full of the same shredded paper. Each piece was labeled with the name of someone we knew and the word "stinks". I thought I knew what I had discovered but I had no idea what it was for. Our oldest son had babysat the night before so my husband and I could go to the movies and supper. When we called to check in, he told us things were going well. Our youngest was fixated on tearing up pieces of paper. He told us he wasn't messing up anything else so he gave up trying to get him to stop. He figured paper shredding wasn't that big of a deal. We agreed and told him to call us if he had any problems. He said they wouldn't. They were just hanging out.
When I found last night's shredded paper, I still couldn't discern it's use so I asked him what they were. Unfortunately, I had gathered all the shreds of paper into the bag. This set him off. He launched into a crying, yelling fit that I struggled to interpret. When I finally got him to slow down and explain why he was so upset, it sort of made sense. He was planning an Easter Sunday get together. The shreds of paper were a game. Each person would pick a piece of paper. If he/she drew out his/her own name, that person would then need to drink a hot bowl of soup in one minute. His mood lifted and tears melted away as he explained his Easter Sunday activities. He soon began to manically launch into a non-stop fury of words about Easter Sunday and this party that he was planning.
By the time we got to church, the combination of his medicine and the twenty minute car ride had helped to relax him to such a degree that we got through the service with very few problems. He even conducted the choir from a seated position instead of standing and proudly waving his colored pencils in the air as he often does. We had a small round of tears when we asked him to wait a minute to go down to children's church. He was convinced that that minute was going to make him late and brought on the tears. He was able to calm down and move forward.
We stopped at the grocery store on the way home for milk and bread. He wanted to come along because he wanted a chocolate milk. I told him he could come in with me if he didn't ask for a lot of stuff and stayed with me. He did and kept his word. He also bounced, bopped, danced, and boogied his way through the store. We did okay.
Back at home, under our bed, my husband discovered a plastic coffee can labeled #2. Inside was a plastic ginger ale bottle with a paper rolled up and tucked inside. The lid of the bottle had been taped shut. When questioned what this was, he explained that it was the instructions for his wedding. He then excitedly ran to the corner kitchen cupboard and declared "There's another one!" Tucked in the back of the cupboard was a duplicate coffee can labeled #1. He put them both back where they were and the topic was effectively ended.
Eating a meal with our son is always challenging. Sitting still long enough to finish a meal rarely happens. It often takes several rounds of reheating the same plate until he completes the whole meal, not because he doesn't want the food, or because he is too full. It's because he can't sit still long enough to finish. He also struggles to eat with his utensils and not his fingers. A meal involves multiple reminders to use a fork. Use a spoon. Use a napkin. Don't wipe your mouth on your shirt. Don't pull the ice cubes out of your drink. It can be frustrating for us all. Today was no exception.
When he became exasperated, he started searching for his list he had started before church. Our son can become fixated on "lists". Lists of people to invite to parties. Lists of people that he loves. Lists of people that have upset him or offended him in some way. Lists of teams for games. Lists of musical productions that he is planning. The list of his lists is unending.
From there, he decided that he was going to go out in the yard and pick up dog poop to prepare the yard for the Easter egg hunt. We explained that Easter was still two weeks away but he was more than welcome to just go out and play. Next thing we know, he is coming down the steps with a backpack and the intention of going out to pick up dog poop. We convinced him to put on muck boots and a coat. He found a pair of disposable latex gloves and put those on. We also convinced him to use a garbage bag without the backpack. Backpacks and poop do NOT go together.
At dinner last night, my husband and I reflected on our youngest son. We are amazed by how his mind works. We are scared of how his mind works. We are amused by his mind. We are frustrated by his mind. In the end, he is who he is. His mind is a jumble of chaotic creativity. He is bursting with ideas and enthusiasm. Our job is to help him learn to manage how his brain is wired. It will never be boring. That's for sure.
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