Not fun, but not impossible

These summer days with both boys cooped up in the house because it's too hot to do anything but sweat profusely outside are long and mean.

The house is getting tidier, bit by bit, as the boys watch movie after movie, build block towers, conquer new worlds on Wizard 101 and Mario Kart, and occasionally help me move things from one location to another, or best yet, put things in the trash. That's a chore Mr. Autism likes to help with.

He had his 10 year old check-up this week, a few weeks early. His height and weight are finally stable, after years of teetering on the precipice of danger and the threat of feeding tubes. We've reached 2 years in a row on a safe percentile! The new medications are doing something right with his appetite. Considering how self-restricted his diet is, even with all the therapy he receives, I consider it a minor miracle that he's not malnourished.

With autism, it's never possible to rest on one's laurels after winning a battle; it's always onwards and upwards to the next fight. In this case, it's time to stop the grazing, and bring the boy back to the table to eat. It sounds like such a simple thing, doesn't it?

It's only been a couple of days and there's been a lot of screaming. Plates have been thrown. Milk has been deliberately spilled across the table. Chairs have been knocked over. He surprised me into a reaction when he hit his head on the glass of my china cabinet holding the few truly valuable heirlooms we have: the Mikasa dish set from the early 30s, the crystal, and the ruby red depression glass punch bowl set. Now that he knows it gets a reaction, he keeps aiming for it. My own fault, but it did surprise and scare me. There's a lot that could hurt him, and the contents are irreplaceable to me.

Like all other challenges with Mr. Autism, it's not insurmountable. After nearly 7 years with a diagnosis, I can almost predict what's going to happen. We're nearly past the initial anger at the change in habit/routine. He'll start complying nicely (with lots of praise and rewards) for a little while, and then unexpectedly have a huge meltdown about the whole process. We'll repeat that for many months, possibly a year or more. Then, finally one day, I'll think back and realize that he's been eating at the table nicely without a meltdown for awhile, and the behavior will be changed.

Not fun, but not impossible.

In other news, we found out that the City supposedly has people with equipment who will load your trailers or trucks with the lovely free mulch if you go during certain hours. That's why my beloved is awake much earlier than he usually is, headed off to try to snag some mulch without the backbreaking labor. If he succeeds, Mr. Smarty Pants and I will have a very busy day, while Mr. Autism sits in a chair in the shade with "Where the Wild Things Are" and watches us sweat.

Maneuvering the wheelbarrow with my weak and arthritic right shoulder is also not fun, but not impossible.