Coping with Autism

Well, day one of Spring Break has ended not so much with a bang as with a whimper (mine!) My husband's parents stopped by on their way back home after visiting my sister-in-law and her family in Georgia. We thought they were staying the night so I was frantically trying to re-clean things that I had already cleaned earlier in the week. (Three kids + two with autism + Spring Break = Great Big Mess) While sorting papers (ironically, mostly the boys' paperwork), Peter and Nathan decided to play in the upstairs bathroom (what is it with autistic kids and water??). Their idea of playing in the water is to clog (a clean) toilet with wipes, pour in a brand new bottle of shampoo and flush-- repeatedly. I realized that a) the downstairs was too quiet and b) I was hearing what I thought was just the washing machine in stereo. While running into the kitchen, I yelled for Gabrielle to run up the stairs to stop them-- I was just in time for water to begin pouring down over the sink in the k...

Well, it happened again. I was rushed for a deadline for some writing projects but I took a break to take my daughter to Tae Kwon Do. My husband had gotten home from work early but had risen early for his job (2:30 a.m.) yesterday so he was tired. Peter had a dirty diaper and I couldn't get him out the door fast enough so my husband said he would watch him. I dropped Gabrielle off and took Nathan to get gasoline for the car (just down the street) and came back to get Peter. I opened the back door and walked past the kitchen just in time to see water cascade down the soffit and into the sink. Peter had managed to flood the bathroom again, less than fifteen minutes after I had left. When Tae Kwon Do was over, the writing project was placed on hold and I installed the lock intended for the bathroom door. Peter will not flood that bathroom again. (I hope.)

What is up with the water obsession?! Everytime I think I've manage to control this, Peter and/or Nathan find a way around whatever I've used to block or impede their access to water. Peter (who is, of course, more mobile than Nathan so more likely to cause problems with water) found a way to get over my gate/laundry basket blockade and flood the bathroom while I was doing some laundry. (BTW, anyone who tells you that autistic children are somehow mentally inferior to neuro-typical children is an idiot who is blissfully ignorant of the truth. Let him or her try living with an autistic child for a week and they will quickly discover how smart and resourceful they are.) Since this is the second full flooding and probably the fourth or fifth time he has come close to it, I will have to replace the sink cabinet. It is showing signs of damage, especially around the bottom. So that's going to be around $200/$250 from start to finish. On a bright note, however, I bought lock...

Having autism does not mean that my sons aren't smart. Having autism doesn't mean my sons can't be sneaky. Case in point. Peter and Nathan, like most kids with autism, are fascinated with water. To put it another way, between discovering we had a leaky toilet and the boys' obsession with water, my water bill over the last couple of months has been $200. Normally it's around $25. Let's just say I'm thinking about chaining the bathroom doors shut-- from the outside. This morning, Peter snuck upstairs to the scene of last week's crime (remember the overflowing sink and my leaking kitchen ceiling?) and began running water. I sensed rather than heard what was going on and ran upstairs to see what mess he was making. As I walked into the hall from the stairwell, Peter rushed at me, squealing, and began pushing me away from the bathroom (where the water in the sink was running). As I pushed past him, I hit the wall or something with my foot and I am now wonderi...

Peter, again, refused to cooperate last night at bedtime and ended up finally going to sleep at midnight. And he didn't want to nap today so, being the Houdini that he is, he managed to escape my seemingly impenetrable jerry-rigged blockade while I was writing downstairs. He then decided that our upstairs bathroom needed to be turned into a swimming pool or small lake. I know this because, as I wrote, I suddenly heard additional water-dripping sounds apart from those made by our fishtank. My kitchen ceiling was leaking. I ran upstairs to discover, to my horror, that my bathroom was (and still is) greatly flooded. So I sit here, exhausted, out of clean and dirty dry towels, trying to decide if I should call my husband now or later to tell him. Later, definitely later.