REALLY, AUTISM?

WARNING...WARNING...WARNING....This post is graphic.
I'm beginning to see a pattern with Ryder. He'll have these crazy manic days about every six weeks or so. This is the time that you have to REALLY keep a close eye on him and keep him out of trouble.

He loves to see my reaction when he comes to me and has his pants off, with poop smeared all over his legs and hands and face. I try very hard not to freak out in a major way. I have learned that that is what he is looking for-a freak out scream from mom which makes him laugh hysterically. It's all I can do to control my thoughts at this time. I take a deep breath, put myself in neutral and let the cleaning begin. First I scrub the dried poop off his legs and hands. How it dries so fast is beyond me. I ignore his efforts to engage me in laughing, as this will just add fuel to the fire. I plop him in the bathtub and wash him off using an exuberant amount of soap. Then I proceed to clean up the hallway and walls and doors where he left his mark. Thank goodness for my trusty steam cleaner. Then I scream at the top of my lungs, "I HATE AUTISM!!" and with every cleaning stroke come the racking sobs, "Why? Why? Why?" I feel like banging my head against the wall.

There are such dramatic highs and lows with Autism. I try to comfort myself by remembering that there is opposition in all things. How could I experience the joy of hearing him speak for the first time if I haven't REALLY heard the silence? Somehow this doesn't comfort me like it should. After all, will he REALLY ever speak? Will he REALLY ever be potty-trained? Will he REALLY ever look both ways when he crosses the street? There are so many unanswered questions--and hope is all I have to hang on to. Some days there just doesn't seem to be much of it. Here's to tomorrow. REALLY.