"You're my shooting star..."

True story

This picture pretty much sums up my evening, as I'm laying around watching The Voice on DVR from last night. Except I'm still in my clothes because I was too lazy to get up and change into sweats. So, there's that. 
This was just one of those days. PJ's therapy session this morning felt endless, as PJ made it clear that he had no earthly interest in doing anything remotely suggestive of what his therapist wanted him to do. It gets right in my head because I don't know if it's the Two or if it's the 'Tis (Yes, I refer to his Autism as The 'Tis. It makes me laugh and sometimes I just need to fucking laugh). I feel like if autism wasn't in the picture he would just be a regular, two year old boy who is contrary in his two-ness. But we have this diagnosis and sometimes it just seeps into everything we do and it sucks. giant. monkey. balls. 

Half an hour after his therapy session, we went out as a family to the market and the kid who was being impossible was charming every person in the place! A laugh and an "Oh, hi!" to the deli lady got him a slice of cheese as a reward ("Cheeseyummycheeseyummy...") and the ogling of cakes in the bakery got him a cookie and the command that any times he's there he "...come see me for a cookie!". He sweetly thanked both of his treat-givers. He smiled at old ladies. He listened when Mommy told him he had to hold her hand and gleefully pointed out everything he saw- Bianyahs (Banana)!  Buhburrys (Blueberries)! Bread (self-explanatory)! It was like he's been lobotomized! 

PJ ate lunch beautifully and napped like a champ and I was hoping my winning streak would continue, but cut to a few hours later and he being an unholy terror at Story Hour. Crying, hitting, and being generally unhappy. The craft was a bird feeder that involved threading Cheerio's onto a pipe cleaner. He ate the Cheerio's. He did rebound and played nicely with another boy and two of the 'tween boys who do the reading, happily ate his snack in addition to the bird feeder, and raced around the room with his cousins (whose mama also happens to be the librarian who runs the program!)! So I considered that outing a draw. 

We came home and PJ inhaled such an insane amount of food that it led me to believe he might have been hungry at story hour- after dinner, he was as happy, engaging, funny and sweet as it's possible for my Boy to be! The best part of my day was making faces in the mirror together and laughing our heads off. After a story and a snuggle, my sweet one was tucked into bed and sound asleep in seconds. 

It's so ridiculous how the autism shit gets into every off move my son makes. Without that diagnosis, would his behavior today have been any different from any other cranky two-year-old? I do, of course, realize that it's not as cut and dried as all of that, but the thought of Autism leaks into every tantrum, every unfocused moment, every cranky day. It's not until he's being his usual rock star self that I realize those crappy moments are pretty few and far between, even if we are 0-3 for story hour (sorry, Ann Marie!). 

I think that for tonight, the best thing for me to do is to go to bed with my heart full of the sound of laughing with my beautiful son as we made faces in the mirror. I'll take the sweetness with me, toss aside the bitter and go to sleep so eager to see my Best Boy in the morning! 

Good night, friends! <3

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