The Art of Multi-Tasking or Be Here Now...and Here... and Here

I always thought I was good at juggling several things at once before I had a child. Most females are. And, let's face it, being able to multi-task comes in handy when you're a mom. In fact, it's actually a prerequisite if you're going to cope with all of the new responsibilities that come with motherhood. But, when you're a mother of a child with autism, the ability to multi-task sometimes borders on the ridiculous.


Case in point: My sister called me yesterday to chat. When she asked what I was doing, I casually said, "Liberty just got home from school and I'm changing his clothes and getting him a snack, then making a pot of chili for tomorrow, and oh yeah, I have to saute the fajita filling that is marinating in the fridge for dinner tonight, and um...oh, yeah I guess I have to make graham cracker dough since it looks like Lib is out of his grahams...yeah but then I have to get back to work, today's my invoice day you know..." Long pause. In the meantime of picking up the phone to answer it, I also had just emptied two garbage cans and was pulling out some cleanser to clean both tubs. My sister says, "This is not normal." I said, "Normal left the building 5 years ago."

She was in the middle of asking me how my cold is and I am telling her how it is hanging on and I can't seem to get rid of it...by now I have walked into my son's room where I see he is climbing his bookshelf. Before it fully registers, down the bookshelf starts to come. I throw down the phone and dive for my son. He is okay, but everything is in a shambles. I pick up the phone and sit down in the rocking chair for two nanoseconds to catch my ragged breath.


I finish my conversation with my sister and walk towards the kitchen. I pass my chair in the living room with the books from the library stacked on the table beside it and and gaze at it longingly. The next thing I hear is a crash in the kitchen. I run, but it's only Liberty emptying his cars and trains on the stone floor. My nerves are shot out. So are my adrenal glands, I'm sure of it.


I throw some bacon in the microwave for Lib, throw some clothes in the washer, get the clothes out of the dryer, and get ready to start dinner. But, then I remember I have to get Liberty's supplements for the second half of the day so I get out my mortar and pestle and begin to blend and grind and mix like the true kitchen chemist that I am. I get out my syringe to begin to give him his doses (without the needle...this is really the only way I can make sure he gets the correct dose). All Lib sees is Nurse Ratchett coming towards him and he flees. I now have to catch the kid to give the supplements which will require giving him one, then going back in the kitchen to reload the syringe with the next stuff, all the while going to my notebook and making sure I WRITE ALL OF THIS DOWN so as not to forget what I have given and what I have not. He only has 13 supplements, some to be given twice a day.


Since my son is currently non-verbal, he usually grabs my hand or face and looks at me and drags me to where he wants to go and this kind of behavior makes our time together rather like a slow dance. I fall into a kind of trance after awhile, tired of hearing the sound of just my voice as I ask the same old tired questions over and over again that he never answers. He is getting better with signs and his eye contact has greatly improved, but he is still easily distractable and that rubs off on me. I cannot tell you how many times in a day I will be in the middle of my juggling act and I will stop and think, "what am I doing again?" I am starting to suffer from short-term memory loss just like Dory. "Hello. Can I help you?"


Before you know it, it's Lib's bath time, find the pajamas, figure out what he will eat for dinner, catch him to brush his teeth and get yet another bedtime supplement (zinc). I catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection in the window as the sun is going down...remember...me? I smile at myself and wave. Someday very soon...I'm taking me for a long-overdue massage.