Well it's now been two full days of Camp Aunt and the honeymoon is definitely over. They are no longer quietly playing fearful of disturbing my headache, sweetly sharing toys and helping each other open things or pat the cats nicely. Now it Audrey full gallop through the house clutching a Dora figurine with a sombero and hollering "YAHOO" at decibel 11. Or young Shirley, evil grin on her face as I catch her squeezing the cat's head and saying - "Kitty needs to clean her teeth now." Nichelle found a Wii game she hadn't mastered and with the dedicated focus only kids with Aspberger's have - proceeded to play the same musical game over and over and over and over and over again. After 5 hours I pulled the plug.
Last night's bedtime did not go as smoothly as the first. Granted introducing Uncle Robin into the mix meant that the twins figured it was more like being home and so they proceeded to play their uncle like the master manipulators they are. Instead of Audrey in bed by 7:30 it was nearer 8:15, which meant that I rushed getting Maryanne and Shirley into their respective beds. Uncle Robin took the three year old and I took the 6. I'had tucked her in and promised her she could look at a book for a couple of minutes when I thought I check on the twins. Opening the door quietly I found both wide awake and their uncle asleep on the bed. I kicked him out and frowned fiercely at the girls. "Bedtime" I announced and shut the door. I had just retired to the basement when I heard the patter of feet along the hallway overhead. Up I go - whereupon I find all three girls bouncing around on Maryanne's bed. I pulled the outraged Aunt routine." Back to Bed " I bellowed. And the twins scurried to their room. I shut the door on the six year old and then firmly informed the three year olds it was bedtime and that was that and shut the door on them. I can hear singing from the six year old. " Quiet" I yell in the direction of her door. "Stop singing and go to sleep". Then I disappear again down the hall - pausing briefly to hear if they are in fact being quiet - and finally escaping once more in to my office.
A while later one of the older kids comes to ask me if they can have a snack. " Fine with me but be careful about noise" I warn them. When they return it's to inform me someone is crying - they don't know who - but it might be Maryanne. It was. Apparently the singing wasn't singing it was tears. She thought I would blame her for the twins getting out of bed. Note to self - lighten up on the fierceness around her. We have a cuddle and a feel better cookie and I tell her how much I love her - how she's my very special niece because of all the times we've done stuff just the two of us, and I get her back to bed. Now it almost 10:30. Argh. I was hoping to get the nine year old in bed by now. I'll have to wait until Maryanne is asleep. So when the clock strikes 11 pm I send the last three to their respective beds. The girls go quietly but my son is wired , first asking for another snack, then trying to tell me he can't read, but can he watch the tv?, etc etc. And I myself made the mistake of taking a night time cold med to help rid myself of the still present cold/cough. Non-drowsy my ass- the damn things have left me bright-eyed and perky. Which is why I'm still awake and typing the blog at 1am when my son is still awake too.
Day 3 has dawned and I refused to get up and give Arthur any meds - my best guess is that he slept maybe four hours. One day off the stimulants may get his sleep back on track. Today I have a meeting in the morning and will test out the twelve year olds babysitting skills. I know Nichelle took the town's course and so should have the basic skill set - and Arthur has been doing it for months now - granted just during the day and only himself and Miriam to watch - so tackling the crowd will be a new challenge. I'm confident they can handle it. but never-the-less I ban computer games to ensure concentration on the task. They are fine. The house is still standing , the duplo is spread now from one end of the play room to the other and everyone seems focused on their individual games. "YAHOO"
The Teenager arrived on time - so I happily left her with hotdogs to make, a craft for the afternoon and only the five girls. Arthur has phoned a friend and found a way to escape the estrogen filled house. I drop him off on my way to care for my mother.
Up until very recently my mother was still living on her own - with help. Lots of it. We had PSW's in every day, sometimes two of them, and also myself. We were there to get her up, fed, bathed, to do errands, housekeeping, and take her for her many appointments, and every night I went back again to make her dinner. It's a routine that leaves you tired - not because the work is strenuous but the timing is tough. After a long day to have to go out again at 7 pm just when you want to be home and stopping was probably the toughest for me. And I couldn't bring her to live at my house - she's put that stipulation into her will and legal papers, besides she'd have never managed the stairs. So we did everything we could to leave her at home safely - but time ran out. More falls, some confusion about taking pills, less and less ability to walk and more and more sleeping meant that I finally had to nudge her about applying for a bed in long term care. We only selected one place - but I already knew they had vacancies. And within the month she had a bed. It's not perfect - she wants a private room. And we always knew the whole idea of eating at standard times was never going to be acceptable to my mother who hasn't eaten her dinner earlier than 7pm for seventy years, but not worrying about her on her own is worth every conversation over this past two weeks when she's asked me again "Are you sure we couldn't just hire more people to come to my house and I could go home?" It breaks my heart to deny her - but I know she is now eating better, moving more, sleeping less, and in far far better care then even the best PSWs and myself could give her at home. So now I show up and take her for appointments and we always stop at Timmies for a snack before going back to the Manor. She's slowly coming to except it.
Home just after 4pm and all is quiet - for approximately 3 minutes. Then a request for cookies means that three littlest ones are sitting at the kitchen table and they all want to dunk their cookies in milk. The cookies are way too big to dunk I point out, but Maryanne then snaps hers in half and shoves it into her glass where upon Audrey informs me that her sippy cup won't do, she needs a open glass too. And Shirley is waving her cookie around and has attracted the attention of the dog who moves in hopeful for an opportunity to get some of this good stuff. Now I have three girls all screaming about the dog - Shirley tries hoping off her chair to push his snout into his water bowl while still holding her cookie above her head to keep it safe. Of course the dog is tall enough and she is short enough that mere centimeters separate his mouth from successfully stealing it. Then Audrey has managed to twist off her sippy cup lid and is frustratingly trying to shove a huge sugar cookie into it to dunk and pieces are falling - the dog deserts Shirley and heads Audrey's way - she screams loudly. Maryanne now has the idea of banning the dog from the kitchen so she rescues her sister from impending dog and pulls him out the kitchen door, closing it behind him. He simply walks around through the living and dining rooms and in through the other doorway which has no door. The screams erupt again. Now Shirley is mad because she can't get her sippy cup open, Maryanne has finished and wants to go play downstairs and Audrey has crumbs everywhere upon which the dog is feasting. And throughout it all, I can hear the same song repeating over and over as Nichelle works systematically through that Wii game downstairs. I look at the teenager, whose parent has arrived to get her, and smile - "Same time tomorrow?"
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