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Waking Up Flat

I woke up early to find River stirring but he’d slept straight through from 7 p.m. the night before, still in his holiday shirt. I climbed in beside him for a bit. I already knew: today wasn’t going to be my best.

Last night at dinner (Mexican night – nachos), the weight of keeping everyone happy had turned crushing. I picked at my food until the tears fell. Summer, ever-practical, offered to get snacks “for when River wakes up hungry.” Kike took him back to the room and he went straight to bed.

We found our new friends later and celebrated survival with vodka Fanta lemons. Would not recommend. Ever.

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Absence Seizures and the Algorithm

Sensing I wasn’t myself, Kike took the kids to breakfast. I stayed in bed scrolling. The phone is always listening, today it decided I needed an article on absence seizures: short lapses of consciousness, mostly in kids, harmless but worth a doctor’s visit.

That’s exactly what happens to River- his little zone-out moments. He stares blankly, then snaps right back like nothing happened. Another thing for the medical to-do list.

When they came back, he bounded in:
“Water park?” NO!
“Swimming pool?” NO!

“Sensory room and home.”

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Breaking the Plan

The Plan was dead. He didn’t want the water park. My chest tightened, breath shallow. Kike took him and I ugly-cried for five solid minutes the kind where you can’t breathe between sobs.

When River was handed back to me, we lay still together. I got up, dressed, grabbed the sensory room key. He was perfectly happy, rolling on the giant ball in his usual circuit.

Kike swapped with me so I could take Summer to find her friend. Then a message from him: “He keeps saying he wants to go home (the room).” So off they went.

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The Words I Shouldn’t Say

At the pool, my balcony friend clocked instantly that I wasn’t my usual chirpy self. I started crying again and said the thing you’re not supposed to say out loud:

“I wish he wasn’t autistic.”
There it was. The sentence you’re not supposed to say. The sentence that, if written on paper, I’d probably try to scribble out so no one could read it.

And then came the second wave, the guilt. The lump in my throat turned into tears because I knew, even as the words left my mouth, that they weren’t the truth.

What I meant was: I wish life didn’t exhaust him so easily. I wish the world bent a little to fit him instead of the other way around. I wish the noise, the unpredictability, the rules-that-make-no-sense didn’t feel like a constant onslaught. I wish there wasn’t this endless calculation. How to avoid overload, when to risk a new thing, how to manage a meltdown in public.

I don’t wish away who he is. I don’t wish for a different child. If I could magic away the challenges but keep every spark of River, his way of seeing the world, the way he loves with his whole body, the joy that pours out when something clicks for him. I would.

But wishing away the autism would mean wishing away him. And that’s not what I want. What I want is for him to have a life that feels safe, joyful and possible.

We bobbed about in the water, me wiping my face, her listening without judgement. That chat helped. The pool helped. The knot in my chest eased a little.

A Day in Retreat

Back in the room, he was happily on his iPad. Lunch was a no-go. “Stay home, River stay home.”

So lunch came to him. Summer and I went to the snack bar instead. No buffet lunch today. We met with our sensory room friends and actually had a laugh swapping stories of run-aways, meltdowns and a very ingenious way of securing a door handle using a T-shirt.

At 1 p.m., I gave in and had a nap. River wasn’t going anywhere. Kike took Summer to her last swimming lesson. She can now swim unaided for a short distance. Which basically means she’ll drown more slowly.

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Pool Time After All

Of course, he wanted the big pool. So the four of us got in. He jumped in over and over, swallowing what felt like half the pool.

And as always, no sign of life-saving instincts. You know those videos where they toss a baby into water and it instinctively floats? Not River. He’d happily drift face-down in his life vest, completely still.

So, that makes it tiring but it was one of the first times the 4 of us had been in the same pool at the same time so, worth it.

We finished with two giant slices of cake from the snack bar, then back “home.” Enough adventure for him and for me.

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The Evening Plan

A mini anniversary celebration, the one we kept saying we’d have.

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Ready for Home

Tomorrow’s the last day in Ibiza. I think we’re ready. Tonight needs to be calm. I’ll need every ounce of energy for the journey home. We’ll form a plan tonight after dinner and we’ll see if River wants to follow it.