The Simple Things Can Be Hard Too
I have a cold. One of those monsters that makes your teeth hurt, eyes burn, and sinuses take on a life of their own. It also makes for a tired and cranky mommy, who since Peter, the master of nighttime ceremonies around here, is out of town, must nonetheless must dig deep, put on a smile and get the boys to sleep.
Alec, as youngest, is first. While he settles into bed, and I help arrange the covers, I explain that I shouldn't get too close because I have a cold and don't want to get him sick too.
"I want to be sick!" he declares.
Why would you want to be sick? Being sick is no fun.
"I. DON'T. WANT. TO. GO. TO. SCHOOL!!" he yells into the dark.
This is a common refrain at bedtime. Prepping for sleep is the signal that a new day is on the horizon. A new day to handle all the demands of the outside world. Nighttime brings on worries of managing that day. He struggles. His mind spins. Each night we sit with him. Lately, we sit until he is asleep. That seems to be the only way to quiet the worries enough to allow sleep to come. Tonight a simple thing like my cold took the anxiety of the whole process up 10 notches.
I crawl into bed next to him and try to keep a small, germ-free zone between us. He drapes a blanket across my back. The plan, he says, is to charge it up with germs so he can get sick too. Ok, I'm not breathing on the blanket, I think, he should be fine. I'll let him think he's getting my germs. Maybe that will help him settle.
He quiets down a bit. My nose is running like crazy, so I risk leaving before he's asleep. I tell him I need to go now, but I will check on him later. "Ok," he says.
Relief. Maybe it will work this time. Maybe he will fall asleep on his own!
No such luck. I hear mumbles from his room. More declarations that he will never go to school again. That he WILL get sick too.
*Sigh*
I go to sit at the computer in the area outside his room, hoping for that silence that means he's finally asleep. I'm surfing the web, sniffling, and impatiently tapping my foot, when Connor comes up to me, "Mommy, I think that can wait till tomorrow." (I'm scanning FB) What? I say, distractedly. "That doesn't look crucial to me and you need to go to bed. It can wait." All this he says with the calm wisdom of someone much, much, older.
Wow. Here's my 11year old seeing it all and trying to take care of me. I want to cry for my little one whose brain won't let him relax and sleep, and my big one who has grown up so fast and sees so much because of this autism that entered our world.
I thank Connor for being so sweet and send him off to bed, assuring him that as soon as Alec is asleep, I will head to bed myself.
That's when I hear crying from Alec's room. He's gone from wanting my germs, to panic that maybe he actually got them and is sick.
"I don't want to be sick!"
Oh, honey, you aren't sick. And if you get sick, I'll take such good care of you. It's only a simple cold. It will be gone in a day or two. It's ok.
He starts drilling me on symptoms. Do you have a fever? Does your tummy hurt?
No, no, I assure him. It's just a simple cold. It will go away soon. It's ok.
But, I know it isn't simple for him. A little thing like my cold has gotten twisted up in his anxiety over sleeping and the coming of a new day. I want to help. I want to make it all go away. But, I'm tired and cranky. I'm not on top of my game tonight. Now, 2 hours into the bedtime ordeal, I'm desperate. "Alec, please go to sleep, " I plead.
"I'm trying. It's hard." he whispers.
"I know, baby."
I know.



View Comments