As my husband and I teeter on the brink of our annual respite weekend, the tension is palpable. Not between us as much as between me and our kids. Okay, between us too.
As much as our neurotypical parenting counterparts can empathize with what our daily life is like, they haven’t lived it and often I feel like they’re watching me and scratching their heads in confusion over why I am the way I am. I cancel plans. I’m tired. I say weird things. I drink coffee every day and wine every night. I talk about autism a LOT. But in all fairness, it’s kind of my entire existence.
Once a year, we take a break for two nights. Last year that meant our first chance to sleep without having WonderBoy sleep in our bed with us. This year it means a chance to not spend every waking moment wrangling a child who cannot seem to control his body. It means not having to redirect him ten times just to get him to the bathroom. It means we can breathe for two days and not have someone yammering non-stop about I don’t even know what.
I can’t pretend that this is fun.
I can’t even pretend that I’m any good at this.
While we didn’t feel certain at first with Wonder Boy, I feel utterly thrown for a loop with Speedy. The anxiety I understand because I live with it every single day. But the ADHD? HOLY COW it’s utter chaos. And I’m tired.
Thankfully we live where we do, and there is an organization that supports parents by providing one respite weekend per year. I cannot wait to spend our time reconnecting and meeting other couples who live our life.