My heavens, but yesterday morning sucked! It sucked for all the usual recent reasons, along with LRHF's inexplicable intestinal ick, which kept him home from school after three of Alabama "What's that white stuff?' days off from school.
And we fought. And I cried. And we changed pull ups. And I did laundry. Followed those same four steps for at least six, maybe seven hours. At least. Altho, at some point, I did have to scrub a feculent mattress, so don't nobody tell me I don't know variety in my day.
These things come on us like or own virulent ick. We know. We know, and yet...
Ugh. At one point I realized that his problems with me--or rather, as he says, "the things he would like to see because he thinks I'd be happier," are eerily similar to that list I'm sure his mother has tucked away somewhere in her very controlled, germaphobic, autismaphobic, PETA-loving mind. Oh you Mommy's Boy!
So, well, I need coffee desperately right this minute...but when I get back, I will tell tales of drama and weeping and locked doors and, well, pull ups, but more to the point, of him closing his eyes and nodding his head at one point. This is his tell. His Maybe Mea Culpa tell.
And I'm wondering if two people can just forget that they love each other. And then, they remember.
What do you think?
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