A Bad breakfast....

Daylight savings time. You ruiner of daylight, and other things. Most people circle this day on their calendar with a big red circle or heart in anticipation of one extra hour of sleep. My red circle is a glaring warning of dread. Because Chandler is on a body clock, like his own little autism circadian rhythm, I HATE daylight savings time. The corps have done studies saying that it saves .5% in energy. (big freakin deal), and it increases revenue for companies. Ah, there it is. All about the benjamins. Fine. I guess if it makes Walmart a few more bucks its okay to f#$% with my life. So, now that my rant is over, let me tell you about the beginning of the next two weeks. Last night Chandler was running up and down the stairs, climbing on the wall ledge in the basement, and lifting up the filter door on the fish aquarium to watch the wheel spin. He was still coming to "visit" me at 11p.m.  Normally, he is in bed at nine. I tried a snack, a story, a movie, retucking him in. Well, it didn't work and he was up at 7 (so 6 really), and he wanted breakfast. His normal two poptarts and glass of milk was presented and refused with a fire engine scream. As was a bowl of graham squares, a bowl of trix, and a final bowl of Capt. Crunch. In the midst of repeated screaming, and trying to get breakfast for my now awake two toddlers, my emotions started the familiar out of control spin. I was trying to stay positive but having episodic tears and threatening time outs to all three of them. I took a deep breath and a bowl of cinnabon cereal and went to my room. I cried by myself for like the two millionth time, and he came in running and screaming and threw himself on my bed.  He wouldn't come near me or give me a hug because I had gotten angry with him. It took five minutes for me to convince him to let me hold him for a half a second.  After watching his brothers fight for a few minutes, it was forgotten, and he giggled, and began to "stim" and rock back and forth so much, he was moving my bed. Please stop. I just stared at him. I hate autism today more than I hate Daylight ST, I hate it more than I hate shoveling the snow in 40 degree weather, but I love my son. I lose my patience again with the bed rocking, and say STOP it please. (Even though I know he can't), and he stares me down. Eye contact but not in a way that I would like. If he could speak, he might be telling me to muster all the strength I can because its gonna be a long two weeks-the amount of time it takes to reregulate. My annoyance becomes sadness and guilt. I'm sorry again my baby. I'm sorry I can't understand, I'm sorry I forget.