Remember the new born stages, the disturbed sleep the awake at silly hours? Leaps and autism at 6 is quite similar.
The difference being at 6 no one is as sympathetic, you still have school to get to and work to do. There’s no oh don’t worry about the house work, try and have an hour, have a rest day. When you’re at the wanting to cry at the newborn stage it’s hormones it’s fine, people say offer to babysit for an hour so you can catch up on some sleep.
You get into some sort of routine and think we’ve done it, only for that routine to change without you knowing why. It could be the least little thing or a few small things adding up to a big thing.
The thing is as parents were always judged on our parenting. Yes I can take Z out but I can also shout at him.
This week is week two of wake ups earlier than any job of a shift pattern I can think of, what time do fishermen start? The late night sleep you get used to. The not spending any time with your partner catching up on a tv series even just talking. Trying to have a conversation over Z is hard word he’s just so loud to watch tv isn’t worth attempting. Z is upstairs but can’t be left alone, so we split it one is upstairs one downstairs. By 10.30 and Z is still bouncing after being up at 4 tempers go. We’re all shouting at one another. Knowing at 3 something we will see the time again.
Today I shouted and I shouted loud, I slammed doors and still shouted. I know he can’t help it. Lack of sleep is horrible, but when you have the not wanting to get up, ummm no you were up at 4, come on. The getting up refusal makes me angry because we’re all tired. When he’s finally up at 7.50 after taking himself back to bed three times it starts taking the mick. Get him dressed and he’s taking them off as quick as you’re putting them on I’m like a little rumbling volcano I can feel it. Finally dressed including shoes and coat. I brush my teeth and he’s gone back up the stairs I call him and he comes down naked. I’m rumbling more we’re now running late. Again as I’m dressing him again he’s undressing. Finally dressed open front door and say wait there so I can grab a jacket, and he runs, runs towards the road, I shout. Coat forgotten to get him. But because I’ve shouted he’s having a strop in the street. A volcano can only rumble for so long. When you have people looking, if I stop shouting now I look guilty so I’ll continue to shout about supergluing his clothes to him while getting in my car.
It’s a phase I know, I keep telling myself this but it doesn’t make it easier. I feel bad for my neighbours they go to sleep hearing him crying and shouting they wake up with him crying at 3.50. If it were me I’d not be impressed. We’ve done this for long enough to know that he’s progressing in something and at the moment he has so many words, sentences and random words he’s read somewhere trying to come out he’s trying, I know that. I know it’s not going to be forever.
Maybe this year for his birthday he can have new sound proof foam on his walls!