Sick and tired of sick and tired.

Cliche? Yes but I'm much to tired to come up with anything better than that.  ASD parents, you feel me?

The kiddo came down with some sort mystery virus on Saturday and it is still lingering all these days later. Now that I think about it, pretty much every illness he has had can be described as "mystery". Why? Because I never know what's going on with him.  Not really.  Communication issues never become more alarming than when your kiddo can't even tell you "hey I don't feel good".  I usually get a glaringly oblivious sign like him up chucking down my shirt.  When I'm cleaning chunks out my bra, then I figure out something is up.   There is no warning bells at all with my kiddo.  My husband was the one that got the barf baptism last night at 2:30am (YES!) on his arm as kiddo slept across him.  (Yeah he still crawls nightly into our bed.  Please, I will deal with that battle another day)

So there we were, scrambling in the middle of the night to fix the collateral damage that a sick kid can bring.   Sheets to be changed, pajamas, washing various body parts.   Two dogs at our feet the whole time going "What?  We're up now?  Really?  This seems unusual but while you're up, throw us a milk bone would ya?"  Finally settled all parties down and I stare at the ceiling in the dark waiting for my son to get sick again because he will.   I mean all moms know it won't be just the once.   So no point in falling asleep when I can just sit there and worry about when he will do it next.   Except he doesn't.   He sleeps.  I don't.   I'm really sick and tired of the sleep I do not allow myself to take.

I'm no fool.  I know my husband was more than happy to be going to work today.   The kiddo sick day versus tough day at the office?   Yeah, if I could of left, I would of too.   I don't blame him if he enjoyed his day off of sick duty.  He was sick and tired of us. 

We start the pattern of crying, moaning, running, jumping, crashing and sleeping any and everywhere.  I get out PEC pictures.  I take out sick social stories.   We talk and talk and talk about being sick.   I model taking my temperature.  I beg and plead that this kiddo can at least identify the body part bothering him.   He tells me he is happy, he sticks to his making friendly conversation scripts.   I'm really sick and tired of scripted conversations on days like today.

We go to the doctor's because I really don't have a clue what's wrong.  I am hoping maybe he'll see something like an ear infection or whatnot.  Something that has a set treatment and a duration I am familiar with.   Nothing.  Just a run of the mill virus.  Of course I did the song and dance with both the nurse and doctor of explaining "No I have no idea what hurts on him. See if he'll tell you."  I'm really sick and tired of having to explain that every sick visit we go.  Hello, you're in the medical community.  The communication issues and autism, you ought to be on top of by now.   Here, make a note in the chart. "Mother will look like she's about to cut a bitch if I ask why she doesn't know what's bothering her son".

I am sick and tired of playing the "slip him a mickey" shuffle with any medication.  I find the more doses we go through, the more on to me he is.  No he won't take pills.  Chewable or not.  Liquid only if it's mixed with juice.   Even then it must be served in a juice box, ice cold.  He has another medication he takes for anxiety that we must get in.  The levels have to stay constant.   That becomes additional stress.

I am sick and tired of not being to know what is bothering my child.  Days like today really get under my skin.  I'm his mom.  I ought to know and I don't and that just sucks. A thousand and one different ways my son has taught me how to communicate differently but when it comes to illness, we just hit a wall.  He can't tell me and I cannot read his mind.  He does not understand my pleas to rest and be still when he's crawling on the couch to jump on it.   I do not know what he means when he randomly screeches and grabs my hand to press his chin into it. 

All I can do is hope that he will sleep well tonight and tomorrow might be better.   That maybe by the end of the week I can have a nice scripted conversation over a side of fries.   I will never be sick and tired of that.