So Sorry

Having a Bad Day?

Not everything goes your way sometimes, that’s just how it is.

I am miles away tonight as I think about the fall and the fact that I may have to split the triplets up for afterschool care. In an effort to find some answers I ran (yes, I multitask) over to the Health Fair at Canastota High School to see if anyone was offering information on afterschool care.

I didn’t see anything, but the place was jumping and since I was not familiar with the school layout I just weaved quickly from booth to booth.

I managed to find one organization that offers horse therapy sessions for autistic kids AND it’s located right on North Court Street which is not too far from where we live.

I think Theo would like it, and I know the girls would too.

Could be something to that…

Move On Cinderella!

So, knowing I have to help bathe the kids, I run back home to find Gretchen in tears because Olena happened to get  a treat of peanut butter cups today (for going to the doctor)… The only thing was Gretchen was crying and when Rob had asked her what was wrong (before I set foot through the door) she told him, and I quote, “I don’t know.”

Four going on 14 people…

I explained to her that all she really needed to do was talk to Daddy and tell him what was wrong. That he would help her, but only if she talked to him…

Mom is not the only one who can help…

And Then, The Zinger

Everyone finally upstairs, and later than usual due to the run, the stop at the health fair, the run back, the baths….the medicine…

Theo decided that, although he was already in bed, that he wanted out. So, I let him out and read him a story while he fussed around the room.

Finally, wearing down, he came over to me and we rocked on the chair. He was flipping his favorite heart-shaped cookie cutter around. He finally flipped it so hard it flew out of his hands onto the dark floor (we only had one light on to try to get him to sleep).

“OK. Theo. Just a minute… Hold on… Hang on” I said as I lowered him back to the floor and leaned forward only to find I had made him mad and he’s decided to use me as his chew toy. Again!!

I was bite-free for two weeks.

Well, I almost dropped him on the floor…he got placed down pretty hard and I wandered out of the room mumbling and swearing, going to the kitchen to get an ice pack for the bite area. Rob asked what happened and I nearly bit HIS head off…

Then, Something Special

I come back in the room. Theo, on the verge of tears, is still on the floor where I left him. I’m sitting on the chair holding the ice to my arm. I tell him again that biting is not nice. That I was just trying to help and if he needs something else, he has to show me.

A few seconds go by…

He gets up…

He stretches his arms up…

He gets in my lap and leans forward.

Oh my, he is hugging me. Theodore is hugging me. His arms are wrapped around me and his head is on my shoulder. And it only lasts a few moments but it seems like forever. (Now, keep in mind, Theo does like to be held and he does like a good hug, but only on his terms. This is the first he’s hugged me after having a biting incident.)

I can’t believe this!! SO, of course, I turn on the waterworks. It’s the dreaded full on ugly cry.

He gets off my lap and finally decides that he’s ready for bed.

I get myself together and make sure he’s really going to sleep. I check on the girls, and head downstairs.

I’m exhausted. I’m tired. But part of me is glad that Theo did what he did. He knows he did something that wasn’t right, and his hugging me was his way of saying he’s sorry.

That’s OK Theo… I know you didn’t mean it.

Onward and upward my dear boy 🙂

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s