"Party of Autism, Your Table is Ready"

I keep waiting for it to get easier to take the Doodle to a party or family function. It's only gotten harder.

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.

Clean Up on Aisle 16

Every time I take the Doodle to the grocery store I tell myself, "it's your own fault". When I only need a few things, I think, "how bad can it be"?

I know that once I enter the market, the Doodle has one thing on his mind. Chips. We must head straight to the chip aisle or we are in full blown autism mode. I can keep him quiet with a few chips if I push the cart really fast. I don't dally or waste time, I multi-task and attack the store like a expertly trained Navy Seal. I divide, I conquer and I never back track.

So we go to the chip aisle and surprisingly, he doesn't want Doritos. But now, he has no idea what he does want. He's frozen and can't make a chip decision. I point to numerous bags of chips and he shakes his head NO. He's completely overwhelmed with the chip selection. So finally he decides. He wants Pringles. So I give him the Pringles. It's all about taking the lid on and off and not so much about the Pringles. Ahhhh. But it's quiet.

I do my best to pick up the pace and get the few things I need. The next thing I know the entire can of Prinlges is dumped out in Aisle 16. People just stare. Ok, Ding Ding Ding, I guess my time is up.

So I head to the check out line. I tell the checker lady that my son just dumped out an entire can of Pringles on Aisle 16. By now, since we're out of chips, the Doodle is in full blown autism mode. He's shaking his head back and forth and kicking his feet. She looked at him and then at me and asked me if he was alright?

"Yes, just a little overstimulated right now. He's autistic", I explain.

"Oh. Well at least he has his health", she says.

"Actually, nope, he doesn't have that either. He has severe epilepsy and he's on a lot of medication right now", I tell her without missing a beat.

"Paper or plastic?", she asked being careful to avoid any eye contact with me or the Doodle. Thankfully, she didn't try to make anymore genius small talk and then finally just put her head down and scanned my items.