I am married to the calmest, most patient man in the universe, Big Boy. All along this autism journey we have been on exactly the same page with our children, agreeing on our methods, making sure Boy 2 does not suffer due to having an older sibling with ASD, believing in the ability of our oldest to grow into a functioning, happy adult. Well, most days anyway. But everybody has a breaking point.
The night before last Big Boy was helping/supervising both boys with their homework. And for the first time in over a decade, he lost his temper and screamed at our children. Not yelled, screamed. Now I am the loud, scream at them person in this relationship. I am the you get your arse moving NOW ranter. They are used to me and my Madmother ways, and usually respond quickly knowing Mummy has reached THAT point where we cannot push her buttons any further and we'll fall into line as if the last thrity minutes of ignoring/whining/arguing/cheekiness had never happened.
I do think they deserved it. There are times they take full advantage of their placid Dad, and can be downright disrespectful. They just chose the wrong time this time. He is tired, stressed from work, unwell. He had had enough. And he blew.
Don't get me wrong, he did not yell abuse, it was more along the lines of "Enough! You both need to start showing some respect as I'm trying to help you here. This is not MY homework, it is yours and either you stop arguing and start appreciating me being here, or else you can just struggle through by yourselves..." But screamed at top volume of his grown man voice.
The problem is they did not expect it. The issue is that it truly scared them. The sad thing is that it pulled the emotional rug out from under their feet. Boy 1 was devastated, and did not stop shaking and sobbing for the next three hours. Boy 2 was saying "I'm numb. Is it normal to feel nothing? I cannot feel anything..." I am sure he was in shock.
I held them and tried to calm and reassure them both, but it meant a very late night and two boys who would not sleep without Mum lying close. Which is why I ended up on the floor, cold and stiff at 1am in the morning.
My poor, poor boys. All three of them.


