Wednesday, May 30, 2007

I Love The Smell of Autism in the Morning

OK - so I woke up today (a good start, yes?) and headed into my bathroom. I clean my bathrooms every week. More often if the girls do something, something, something, icky. I had cleaned my bathroom last Thursday. Should still be fairly clean as I rarely do icky things in my bathroom - I am quite neat and tidy in my toileting habits. Don't laugh, when you have kids with autism you don't take these things lightly.

So - I'm in my bathroom, wondering (as usual) if the folks in the 55+ condos next door can hear me peeing through my window (I'm weird that way.) Let me rephrase that. I do not actually pee into or through my window. I sit on the toilet in a relaxed fashion - no need for the mall squat in your own house, right? Oh, the mall squat? My Mom taught me to never sit on a public toilet. Dirty. So I use my quadriceps and hover over the toilet in public restrooms - which I only used when forced to by Venti Starbucks coffee or a gallon of Dasani. And only to pee. I rarely if ever do anything other than pee in a public restroom. My husband says that's a girl thing. Guess what? I'm a girl. Well, now I've embarrassed myself, so onto my story.

I'm sitting this morning and I sniff sniff sniff something yucky. I look around. Bathroom looks clean. I sniff again. I scratch my... head, you dum dum. Only men scratch their naughty bits. Nothing to be seen. Plenty to smell. I washed my hands and headed downstairs to make breakfasts and lunches for the girls.

I went back into my bathroom. Sniff. Ick. I took out the Scrubbing Bubbles and sprayed the toilet, the floor around the toilet, the sink and the tub, leaving the bubble men to work their magic. Got the kids off to school. Went up to shower. Cleaned bathroom fully. I clean my shower while I shower. That way I reach everywhere. I get out. Sniff. I smell clean. My bathroom smells like ick. I am puzzled. I dress and go out.

I get a call from John Robison who says he'd like to stop in my town for lunch on his way to Random House and BEA in New York. I am right off the Merritt. John has a great memory. And he's a fantastic listener. He remembers I live right on his way to New York. We meet for lunch. We have a lovely time. I come home. I have had the Venti Starbucks and two giant Club Soda's with John. I have to use the bathroom. I go into my bathroom. Sniff. Ick. Yet I know I just cleaned it.

I sit down. I happen to glance over to my scale. My scale is a fancy glass German scale from a company my husband used to work for. The people at the company treated my husband like shit. Which is a fine coincidence, because, there, under the glass scale are two little lumps of shit. Yup. Two marbles. Two pops of poop. The ick. The smell of autism. You see, one of my darling girls sometimes has a small problem (or two) getting to the toilet on time. And if she has a problem, she fixes it by going into the bathroom and tidying up herself. Looks like two tidies got away....... Like the meatballs in that old kids' song. I think it's great she fixes her problem. I'm really proud of her progress. I'm glad I found the ick. And now I don't have to clean my bathroom again until next week.

13 comments:

Barbara Fischkin said...

Kim,
Let me be the first to comment. An honor. This is so funny. And as an autism mom with too many years in the trenches, no pun intended, it certainly hit home. Poop hides where you least expect it. I have found it wedged between slabs of Pergo - and Pergo was supposed to be the answer to autism. Always follow that smell. It leads somewhere.. In this case it also led to a great posting in the tradition of great American humorists and some of them were even women!!! xoxo Barbara

Kimisode said...

Hello, Barbara! Where I am you've been! And probably a MUCH bigger version..... And we had a Crapisode today too! I took a photo of the bathroom. I don't dare post it - yet. Hard to believe I can LOOK at chocolate, let alone devour it all day given the amount of brown stuff I clean here. I had lunch with John today - on his way into NYC - I'm right off the Merritt. Fun!

Can't wait to meet you next week at the LifeSpire event. I'll blog it this weekend.

Barbara Fischkin said...

Kim,
Post it! Perhaps. You decide. I think though that people don't believe it till they see it. xoxo B

Laura said...

Oh my! Let's see, my crapisode was yesterday. It was looking like I might actually get Hutton to speech therapy on time, until I remembered that I hadn't picked up his nighttime diaper and pajama bottoms from the bathroom floor that morning. It's his routine - get up, go use potty, leave pajama bottoms and diaper on floor, put pajama top in hamper. Anyway, the diaper was dirty with poop, but no poop was still in the diaper. I looked in the toilet. Wow! What a big step for Hutton! He dumped the poop into the toilet! (Now I just need him to stop pooping into his diaper at night.) Unfortunately, he also put in a bunch of baby wipes as well and the toilet was clogged. The cleaning lady who comes out twice a month was due in 20 minutes. To plunge and be late, or just leave a note, and still be late? I left a note saying, "Do not touch! Toilet clogged. Will plunge later."

And I still eat chocolate like there's no tomorrow, too!

Amanda said...

At the moment,(and all autism mum's know the significance of that statement!) we are off the poo smearing (HURRAH!) and on to stuff things down the loo and flood the bathroom and her bedroom. Have also discovered that all is not lost if the weather's dry and no mud available, just make your own! Other daughter has taken to splatting things on her head...

Smears to tears said...

Amanda, let me make clear - the poop dropper does not smear poop - she was really trying to just clean up. Another of my darlings isn't really a poop smearer - it's just that when she sees and open toilet she sees a play fountain - regardless of whether yet another of my darlings has pooped into the toilet and not flushed or not. So you see, I really don't even have ONE poop smearer - aren't I lucky! (And yet I'm regularly (pardon the pun) cleaning poop. Go figure!) I'm reading about these Crapisodes in NY next week - wish me and my audience luck!

Tena said...

Trying this again. Sorry if you receive this twice.

LOL, Kim. My mother taught me the mall squat too, only she called it a grande plie. (Sorry I can't make the French accent mark over the last "e".)

Today Cami, my therapy dog, and I are visiting the Autism Academy. We have a regular schedule about every second Thursday. The last time we were there, one of my faves told me (in her own way) that she wanted my name on her talker box. Wow. That she wants me as part of her vocabulary is beyond a compliment. It will be interesting to see if she uses the new name.

mcewen said...

Oh yes. The disaster of the restroom. You have my every sympathy - there are many solutions, but scrubbing bubbles doesn't get anywhere near it.
Cheers

Niksmom said...

Holy Crap! (I know, baaaad pun!) Is that what I have to look forward to maybe?? Nik is still in diapers but has discovered the joys of "painting" and smearing it on his face, too, as he sucks hs fingers. Shudder...
We call him our little Poo-casso.

Michelle O'Neil said...

Like I said before, there will never be another crapisode at my house without my thinking of you.


BTW, if my math is correct, one poop dropper + one toilet water player = one poop smearer.

At least.

Kim Stagliano said...

Niksmom, you could also call him "Jackson Poll-ick" :) Michelle, your math STINKS! :)

Amanda said...

Don't count your chickens! One fine day your tidy girl wil smudge something and then it'll be "ooh.. that was good, Let's do it again" Hope I'm wrong! Scotland does not appear to beleive in de-foaming products but have found the dyson is gradually doing the job on the soap. Can't beleive you have so much time to yourself - how do you swing it?

Kim Stagliano said...

Amanda, I LOVE my Dyson! We have way more chemicals in America. Not always good. My Mom came for the weekend and Mark is home. Hooray!!! May you get a day for yourself soon too. Go eat scones or that pig bladder filled with oatmeal thingy - haggis???? Better yet, swing by my house for Italian.