Do You Know the Cupcake Girl?

As I was leaving for work this morning, M asked me, “who was that girl making cupcakes here last night?”

Me. ‘That girl’ making cupcakes was me.

This exchange was just one part of the entire weekend. So you can imagine how the rest of it went.

Earlier in the week, M had been getting ready to take a shower and came to find me because he couldn’t figure out how to get the water – which was flowing into the tub as though he was going to take a bath – to start flowing out of the shower sprayer. I went in the bathroom and pressed the one button that makes the change, but then I decided to stay in there and watch him shower, because I’ve noticed that he isn’t smelling as fresh and clean as he should, even though he showers daily. As I watched, he put shower gel in his hands, put his hands under the shower spray (until there was no soap left) and then ran his hands over himself, as though he was washing up.

I think I discovered the problem right there!

Now I’m monitoring his shower every night. I load up a washcloth with shower gel and make sure every nook and cranny is thoroughly cleaned. And then well rinsed. He doesn’t seem to mind it (yet) and now he smells and looks much better.

The registration for my car came in the mail on Saturday, which caused a problem because it reminded M that he wants a car. As though he needed anything to remind him of that.

The real drama of the weekend, though, happened last night. After his shower, he came down to the kitchen while I was in the middle of baking and suddenly got the idea that he was going to be forced to leave the house – and he didn’t want to go. Nothing I said, nothing I did could convince him that he lives there and he was in no danger of having to go somewhere else.

He was so upset – almost hysterical about this.

Finally, he asked if he could talk to someone about it. He decided he wanted to talk to our younger son, so I got him on the phone. The first thing I heard YS say was “you need to breathe. Take a deep breath in. Now let it out.” Which was exactly what his dad needed to do.

M told YS that “this is a nice place here. Everybody here is so nice. I want to stay here, but I’m not sure that they’ll let me.” And then he’d start crying again.

I got him calmed down enough to go to bed, but he started again this morning when we got up. Finally, I told him I was depending on him to watch the dogs for me and he couldn’t go anywhere because then no one would be there to watch the dogs. That calmed him down more than anything else I could have said, which was good.

Then he asked me who had been there the night before, making cupcakes. And he asked me my name.

I want to wrap him up and keep him safe, make sure nothing hurts him or makes him scared. And at the same time, I realize the enemy I’m fighting against is inside his brain. I can’t get to it and it’s finding new ways to outsmart me every day.

I think I need more than a cupcake.