Well, the
Crocks went back and the
Baggallini has yet to arrive, so I’ll just fill you in on what else has been happening around the KathyRN home, particularly our latest
adventures in autism. Unlike Buzz and Linnie, we've been having some
issues with our boy....
Pre-Trip #14: Molar Madness
Teething is a miserable experience. I don’t know if it’s worse for the baby or for the parents. There’s the crying, the fussiness, the diaper rash. (And that’s just dad!) But seriously, if you’ve ever raised a child, you know that everyone in the house suffers when little ones are cutting their first teeth.
This past week, I really missed those days. Yup. Missed ‘em like crazy. It’s been a long time since I had to deal with teething issues; my kids, as you know, are eleven and nine. When I look back on it, it really wasn’t
that bad. It was the babies who really had it rough. Imagine being so small and having those aching little gums; and not being able to understand that they wouldn’t hurt forever, just temporarily until the teeth broke through!

As for me, all I really lost was a few weeks of sleep and the price of a couple of bottles of baby Tylenol.
This past few weeks, as Billy parted with not one, but
two of those baby teeth, I nearly lost my mind! I do believe the coming out was worse than the coming in.
I think that in the past I’ve touched a bit on how, like many autistic children, he can be very rigid and uncompromising; he interprets the world in very concrete way. He does not like
change, especially when it comes to how things look and feel physically. For example, I have a very difficult time with him if I want to put my hair up in a ponytail. He doesn’t like Mommy looking different!
“Take off your hair. Take off your hair. Take off your hair….” He will say it over and over, literally a hundred times until the ponytail comes out and Mommy looks like Mommy again. Then, he’s happy and relaxed again.
Another example: Ed had to have emergency laprascopic surgery during the first week of July to remove his gallbladder. (He’s okay now, thanks!) Billy freaked out when he eventually caught site of the tiny incisions, covered with steri-strips, on Daddy’s tummy: “Take them off. Take them off. Take them off….”
Well, I can take my hair out of a ponytail, no problem, but Daddy’s little bandages have to stay! Billy has a ritual now that he performs repeatedly: he holds up his own shirt, looks at his own tummy, then he points to Ed’s. “Look at your body? Look at your body?” He will not let Ed rest until he lifts up his shirt. “There. There. There. There.” He points to the incision sites. “Go to hospital, take them off! Take them off, Daddy!” He obsesses to the point where he cannot let it go. I will be so happy when those darn things finally fall off!
Well, that brings us back to the teeth.

The very bothersome, wiggly teeth. The same teeth that 8 ½ years ago, seemed to cause so much difficulty coming in, were wreaking absolute havoc with Billy now that they were coming out. Wiggly teeth feel different. Wiggly teeth must be eliminated. So, naturally, Billy did everything he could to hurry them along….his fingers were constantly in his mouth as he tried to “take them out”. He would even grab
my hand and try to put it in his mouth saying…”take them out, Mommy!”
Of course, they just needed to take their time. Molars take a little longer to come out that the front teeth. But just like you cannot explain to an infant that his teething pain will soon be over, you cannot explain to an autistic nine year-old that his loose teeth will soon come out on their own. So in the meantime, Billy’s stress level shot up and it showed in his behavior. He started acting out and got into lots of mischief during the past week….he had quite a few brand-new adventures in autism! After a few of these, I realized that I couldn’t let him out of my sight for a single moment! I felt like I had a three year-old all over again….
**He took a pair of scissors out of the kitchen drawer, sat down and proceeded to give crew cuts to his Ernie and Bert puppets.
**He came across one of his sister’s stuffed bears and decided that she wanted to go swimming…..in the toilet bowl.
**Scripting a portion of one of his
Clifford the Big, Red Dog DVDs, he practiced “giving your dog a treat” in his usual
repetative way. Happy to cooperate with this exercise, Aimee dutifully ate the twenty-or-so Milk-Bones he gave her, and then promptly threw up on my living room carpet.
**He figured out how to order movies-on-demand using the remote control. About $35 worth of movies-on-demand. Ed, not wanting to put in a parental-control code that
he would easily forget, chose 1-2-3-4-5 and figured that that would be the end of that. Next day, guess who’s watching
Charlotte's Web on demand? Yep, Billy just pressed the buttons and randomly figured out the code! (And racked up another $25 in movies.) Luckily, the cable company was sympathetic and waived the charges when they heard the story.
**He made a hole in the edge of his comforter one night and pulled out a large amount of the stuffing and chewed on it.
**After watching an episode of
Rugrats, he decided that his Curious George monkey was “Tommy” and needed to wear a diaper, so he asked me for one. I gave him a pull-up and thought, “that’s great; he’s playing appropriately.”

I even showed him how to “diaper the baby.” Or so I thought. Next thing I knew, he had taken the
baby powder from the bathroom, brought it upstairs, and emptied the entire bottle of powder onto George’s bottom. And all over himself, his bed, his toys….
Now, none of these incidents, in themselves, was particularly horrible. Kids do stuff like this all the time. Perhaps not
nine year-old kids, but for the most part, there was nothing that a little soap and water, a needle and thread, or a phone call to Comcast couldn’t fix. It was just that they were coming one on top of the other in an unusual wave of remarkable naughtiness.
But the worst one, the scariest one, the one that shocked me the most because he never, ever had done anything like it before: he
almost burned down the house.
It had been a hot, humid day and I had done just about all the laundry that I was going to do. Enough! It was time to take the kids to the pool so they could burn off a little energy before dinnertime and I could sit in the shade and relax with a magazine. Ed was away at a training class, so there was no rush to get back to cook a big meal...it would be pizza that night!
We changed into our bathing suits and I filled a tote bag with the beach towels, sunscreen, water bottles, etc., that we would need for a couple of hours at the pool. Grabbed the bag, the kids, the cell phone, the keys and was headed out the front door.
“Oh, wait a second, kids, I just want to grab a magazine.”
Thank God I went back.
I reached down into the basket where we keep all the magazines that come in and I noticed a strange smell. Funny, it smelled
like an iron. But I hadn’t been ironing that day!
Then, I saw it. Ed’s travel iron; plugged in and turned on. Steadily burning a triangular wedge into the living room carpet.
I snatched it up quickly and examined the burn, the realization of what might have happened slowly sweeping over me. We would have been gone for a couple of hours, at least. Surely, there would have been a fire with untold smoke and water damage to the house. Aimee would have no way to get out and would probably have been killed by the smoke. I sat down, weakly, a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I looked around. When Ed was packing for his trip, he had hastily thrown some of the travel items he had not needed into a pile and left in on the table. The travel iron must have been one of them. But, it had been inside a zippered case! When did this happen? I must have been just as I was running around getting things ready for the pool. I was dumbfounded.
“Mo-om! Are we going?” Tricia called impatiently from the van. I marched them both back inside, my legs still trembling. “Tricia, did you plug in this iron? Were you ironing doll clothes or something?” Her eyes grew large and her answer was an unequivocal “No.” I turned to Billy, who was humming and spinning in a circle.
“Billy, come here.” He came, smiling up at me and laughing.
I held up the iron. “Did you plug this into the wall?” He chuckled all the louder. “Me!” he replied. “Yes!”
Well, he’s truthful, I’ll admit. He may do some inexplicable things, but he has never fibbed to me, ever. Nevertheless, he got a resounding swat on the seat of his pants and we stayed home from the pool. (Tricia and I were both too shaken up to go, anyway.) Tricia was especially upset thinking that Aimee could have died. After we had calmed down a bit and Billy had spent a sufficient amount of time in the “Time Out Corner”, I pulled out some of his handouts from school

about fire safety and we went over the dangers of playing with electric outlets.
Afterwards, he kept going over to the burned spot on the carpet and touching it. “Hot-hot, make a fire,” he repeated over and over as he continued to worry the loose teeth with his fingers. Billy is very fearful of candles, matches, and any sort of fire. Hopefully, some of the lesson sunk in.

I knew that he realized that he had upset me because he kept cupping my face in his hands and saying, "Mommy...is
happy! Mommy is
happy!"
Yes, Billly. Mommy
is happy; happy that a guardian angel was watching out for our family that day.
Two nights ago, the
first wiggly tooth finally came out. Yikes! That was a big tooth! Ed examined it and said, “are you sure that’s a baby tooth?” Sure enough, we looked at the empty space and another tooth was peeking through. And last night, just as he was brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed, the
other one finally popped out.
“Hurray!” he shouted. “No more wiggly tooth!”
Boy, you can say that again!
Hopefully this means we’ll get back to normal around here. Well, you know,
normal is really such a
relative term….
Having stacks and stacks of DVDs all over the house suddenly doesn’t seem so bad.
I need a vacation.
Disney, take me away!!
Kathy