Every Journey Begins With The First Step. Be gentle; this was my first time

So this is how it starts. I think I got the secret handshake. Hope I remember the password. Nevermind.

Long day. It would appear young Master Hayden is on a campaign to make me lose my mind by noon tomorrow. Jeff’s out of town helping my mother move to KY. I’m sure I’ll understand that move at some point but probably not in this lifetime. A vote for reincarnation perhaps? But I digress. I am here at my dad’s house flying solo with the kids and my dad, who is kind in spirit and generous at heart to house us all ad infinitum.

Got home after a very long day of trying to paint a room in my cousin’s house yesterday. And I do stress “try” because I had the kids with me: ages 5 1/2 and 7. A virtual litter of kittens. Plus six dogs to manage and love on once and awhile. And love on the kids too. No really, I did love on my kids!! I can tell you don’t believe that part. Anyway, I managed to get quite a bit done by late afternoon and I didn’t want to quit but I had to hit the bank before it closed.

Hayden’s compulsiveness in the area of throwing things off the bed (read: anything that’s on the bed other than himself including clean clothes, all stuffed animals, clothes I’m about to put on, pillows, etc….) is reaching critical mass and is a serious threat to my mental health. Last night in the midst of the chaos of trying to feed, clean and reclothe the children and offload the car of its collection of toys, food, and backpacks, various and asundry necessary paraphanalia that saw us from this side of town to the other, and then fill up my dad’s car with the equipment necessary to go to Jason’s football game (or go on a safari, whichever came first), I walked into our bedroom suite in our wing of Erickson Suites Hotel, with the intention of getting out of my painting attire and into something a little more fashionable and presentable for a high school football game when I found everything on the floor and Hayden happily sitting on the bed clapping and yelling “hoorah” for himself.

Remember the episode from Star Trek Next Generation when Data’s wiring went afoul and Geordi had to figure it out? And here’s the key: Geordi did it within the hour long show. Man I love that Geordi guy. All of Data’s wires were melted together and some were even smoking. I needed Geordi last night. Hayden needed that thingy-ma-jig that beams people up. (See, right there is clear empirical data that I am losing brain cells. I would have NEVER forgotten the name of that contraption before kids but now my brain is too full storing the really important stuff like 15 types of beatles (there are really hundreds I’m told) and all the words to ALL the Veggie Tales EVER WRITTEN. Go ahead try me.)

Anyway, Hayden got in HUGE trouble for throwing stuff off the bed last night. Twice. Twice he through stuff off the bed. He knew exactly what he was doing. And he does need to be held accountable. So I held him accountable. And he ran away. Seriously. In the midst of getting everyone out the door in less than an hour after we had all arrived back at my dad’s house, Hayden dissappeared out of the open garage, where he had to walk NEXT to “Papa’s” car where the back passenger door was open with Hayden’s car seat clearly visible. Normally Hayden would just pile right into the car, not wanting to miss anything, especially a ride in Papa’s car. Not last night. No, he was going to show me something.

So I casually came out of the bathroom after trying to become human in less than 3 minutes and I noticed I didn’t hear any of the usual Hayden sounds from any of the rooms in the house, err, I mean estate (as an aside, it’s amazing what living on top of each other does for learning what everyone sounds like in the course of a “normal” day). So I quickly scanned each room, sans my glasses and took a quick look in the garage and out on the front driveway and didn’t see him anywhere. Amanda, the next door neighbor girl was walking down the street and she said she hadn’t see him. So I figured I had just missed him on the inside but when I got inside Dad was scouring each room and he couldn’t find him either. Now I grabbed my glasses and we both tore out through the garage and I headed to the right to go toward the busy street. My heart was hitting about once every four beats at this point and then I heard Amanda tell Dad, “he went into that house”, pointing to my aunt and uncle’s house, which is directly across from my dad’s. I pounded on the front door and my uncle called me in and said, “Ya, I was gonna call you to see if you knew he was over here”. And there he was, sitting HAPPY AS A LITTLE ORNERY CLAM on my aunt and uncle’s couch, with a little throw pillow on his lap, watching the evening news. That little booger had run away from me. And Hayden confirmed that suspicion for me when he yelled at me as I breathlessly scooped him up in my arms and hussled him out the door. I thanked Uncle Archie profusely. I hope he heard me above my throbbing heartbeat.

This morning after a very short night of sleep and co-cop staring at us in the face bright and early today he did it again. Hayden and the clothes on the bed. My clothes I was set to wear to co-op this morning. I had already waited until the last possible seconds before getting dressed and then when I saw the mess I screamed and yelled and threw all his toys that he had thrown all over the room into the closet. My head started to throb. It’s still throbbing 14 hours later.

There is this not-so-funny-no-matter-how-you-color-it side of dealing with a kid with a disability that can bring you to your knees and to tears in a heartbeat. The thing that came to my mind as I was angrily driving away from the house this morning and on our way to our Chrsitian homeschool co-op was that I Am Powerless Over Hayden’s Compulsive Behavior. That seemed to help for the moment anyway. It got him to co-op alive.

That’s it for today.


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