Digging diligently at Dunolly....

.... is my Aspie teen's idea of heaven.

Dunolly has this magical ability to settle a cloak of calmness all about Aspie teen's shoulders the moment we step off the bus into the main street Broadway.

Unfortunately we haven't had a chance to shift our carcasses up there since December...or was it January?
I can't remember, too much crap in between drinks and between my ears since then.

This distance ed lark has whiskers on it with the extra pressure and anxiety caused by deadlines and constant phone calls from teachers; the whole idea was for him to have to answer to someone other than his Mama as educator but all it's done is given him a shedload more issues.
Today he rocked himself to sleep on the couch after fretting about schoolwork - yet again.
So, I'm pulling the pin.

We're taking tomorrow off, playing hookey, going on a homeschooling excursion of our choice, wandering off into the wide blue yonder; we'll probably park our carcasses at the museum to drink in the peace and soul-restoring tranquility of the fossils.
Yes, dead stuff is good.
It doesn't generally talk back.

Peter Pan Aspie

I still have trouble getting my head around the fact Aspie teen will never be 'normal', nor that he will have a fully independent life as you and I know.
Two steps forward, one step back: he's actually been looking at his distance ed website and trotting through all the study groups but another couple of major meltdowns last night and this morning saw us back at square one.
Why the meltdowns?
Who frigging knows.
He says he was suddenly scared by me calling out to hubby in another room (which we do every.single.day) although he'd had a moment earlier in the day and briefly refused to keep his appointment with his (long-known) psychologist.
Pressure?
Anxiety?
Yep, but we get lulled into a false sense of security when he's sitting on the couch watching telly then suddenly explodes for no apparent reason.
It doesn't help the psychologist told us she'd had another Aspie boy in, same age, trying to control his rage attacks.
Hellloooo, deja vu, I think we've been on this merry go round before....although I think we forgot to get off.
He cannot cope with most day to day social things - he actually walked to the nearby shop last weekend for the first time on his own.
He was shaking and rocking afterwards.
He says he doesn't mind supermarkets yet he has to go dig holes in the backyard or hammer pieces of wood to relax after we've tackled one.
He says he gets scared at our voices, that smells make him angry, people looking at him wrong upset him and, of course, he argues with the tv when the presenter states something that is incorrect.
Most times he can pass for a NT and then it all falls to shit.
We relax after 2 days of reasonable behaviour and then ka-boom, the house is smashed, hubby is pummeled and the dam bursts with floods of tears, shaking, rocking, grunting and tight, clinging hugs as he's scared himself with his behaviour, not to mention the gaps in his memory as he can't exactly remember what it was that he did.
He has a monstrously high IQ yet he cannot cope with mundane things.
This is my wonderful, fantastic, beautiful kid, who will forever be a kid.