The older he gets, the harder he gets...the more OCD he gets, the more apparent his autism is.
Tonight I went to my uncle Jimmy's house for my cousin Jesse's birthday bbq. I thought I will bring the Doodle's carts because last time we were there he was bored stiff and only wanted to open the front door and climb the stairs. Bad idea.
But, this time, since he had his cart, all he wanted to do was throw it out the front door or down the stairs. I ran around their house, shadowing him and trying my best to Doodle-proof things. That only ticked him off.
Last time we were at my uncles, the Doodle threw an entire bowl of chips on the carpet. I grabbed Jim a shopvac and he cleaned it up.
Needless to say, bring the Doodle to someone else's house, is not at all fun or relaxing--for anyone. You might say I'm a little uptight because I'm just waiting for a disaster. There is no way to just let him be. If I turn my back for one second, he'd be out the front door and in the street or spilling or breaking something, including his head.
So I go to these things with the best of sunny intentions, only to have my spirit crushed and wish I would have listened to my gut and stayed home like I told myself I would do LAST TIME.
Tonight the Doodle out-did himself. I was making him sit in the chair with me because he was getting a little OCD and crazy and I was tired of chasing him, when he decided he needed to throw up and he projectile vomited all over himself, me and my uncle's nice leather chair. I took him straight outside and had to strip him down to his diaper and then put him straight into the car. I chose not to strip myself down to my underwear in their culdesac for obvious reasons so it was a really terrific, long and pungent ride home.
After we hosed off and got cleaned up at home, I couldn't help but cry and have a moment of feeling sorry for myself. I know that sounds pathetic, but at least I am aware. I feel like no one really understands the stress and anxiety of bringing the Doodle places and how absolutely draining and hard it is. They're pretty casual and nonchalant like it's not big deal and they couldn't be nicer. I know they're tolerant because they are my family. But, to me, it is a big deal. I'm the one that stresses out and comes home exhausted, reeking of barf. Then, I think to myself, I should have brought him to my other cousin's wedding on Saturday.