I am utterly emotionally and physically spent, and I'm the most resilient one in our little trio.
Tonight, as my daughter lay beside me on the other side of my bed, I reassured her, as I stroked her forehead to help her sleep, that it was going to be alright, that "this" isn't normal, it's definitely, not right.
Tonight, my 8 year old daughter was physically attacked by my son in full flight fury.
Tonight, I told my 8 year old daughter to run to my room and lock the door whilst I straddled my son to restrain his anger. His hips writhing, as I cupped his hands beneath his head to prevent him scratching me, from being able to bite me, and more importantly to protect him from smashing his head onto the hardwood floors.
It hurt my knuckles, but I knew, even in my fear he would be safe.
Tonight, my son smashed, and pushed over household items, swept displays and toys off furniture. Tonight, a lump of wood collided with my shin, thrown with hatred by my son.
My son's body was completely out of control tonight.
I have not seen a meltdown of this magnitude, ever. This one scared me, he is getting taller and stronger.
11 years old now... Is this the opening ceremony of his journey through puberty with autism, just as I thought life was calm, happy and he was thriving?
As I feel my eyes grow heavy, I hope it was the red slurpee innocently bought by a friend during a little trip out to cure cabin fever during this round of greater Sydney lockdown.... gosh I hope it is!
I tucked him into bed tonight, told him it was alright, he's not a monster, it was just a moment. I love you sweet baby as I kissed his forehead, dimmed the light and the meditation music began, however tonight, I think my sweet baby began turning into a man.