Darn You Autism!!!!

I've had an emotional 24 hrs., I've hated myself, I've hated Autism, I've hated my ex, I've even hated bleach. I think I've gone through just about every emotion in the last 24 hrs. The story started yesterday afternoon, that turned out to kick me in the butt later in the evening. You see, ever since the power outages, I've allowed the kids to keep the potty in their room so they could go through the night. Eureka! It worked, even Isma'eel didn't wet the bed. So back to earlier yesterday; I helped Meatball on to the potty and when he was done I poured water from a container to cleanse him. The water splashed everywhere because he wouldn't sit still, all I could do was breath a sigh of frustration and decided that since it's just water, it'll evaporate. Well that splash of mines stuck around for awhile, after cleaning out the pale and putting about an inch of water and bleach in it, I attached it back on the potty. Now here's the moment when you hold your hands over your eyes and wait for the scary part to be over. Later that evening, as I was making decorations for the coming Eid Festival, I heard thumping in the boys room. I got up to investigate what the heck was going on that was interrupting my supermom moment. As I opened the door I could tell that Isma'eel and Meatball were out of the bed, so I told them that they knew better and had better get back in the bed. Upon saying this, I noticed a wet spot on the floor and the smell of bleach. It didn't dawn on me that a cap full of bleach in water could still be smelled from across the room. I became outraged; the only thing that crossed my mind, was my landlord flipping out. I asked Isma'eel, (seeing as he was the oldest in the room at the time), if he'd knocked it over, and he said yes. I asked him was he climbing on his bed again, and he answered in the affirmative. I then began yelling like a mad woman telling him that when I put him in the bed, he is to stay there. I made him look at what "he" had done to the carpet, and how he doesn't behave. As I am having this hissy-fit, I am shaking when I shout and pretty much scaring the poor boy. I calm down enough to detach the potty pale and empty it and clean it out, and think to myself it may not be such a great idea after all. I came back in the room and told him that from now on he'd have to get up and walk the hall at night and go to the bathroom. As I am leaving the room, I get a thought (and this is totally spiritual, Allahu Ailum (God knows best)), I go into the room and smell the spot. I get in there feel the spot and the floor is soaked, but it doesn't smell like bleach. I felt horrible, like something was crushing my chest that very moment. It was the spot from earlier. I turned to Isma'eel in his bed and asked him to come to me; he was very hesitant, but he came over. I wrapped my arms around him and I cried like a baby. I cried, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!", and it didn't feel like it was enough. I felt like I took some sort of innocence from him by yelling at him so harshly for something he didn't even do. But what I mostly cried about, was how he accepted blame so easily and so willingly even in fear. These are those times when reality hits, and even though you play "the normal game", this is your anchor back to reality. I beat myself with the thought of, "What's going to happen to them when I'm not here?", or "What if I'm not around when things happen to investigate?". It's happened before with my other sons also, it's painful to think that, Insha Allah (God willing), someday they will be men, and the possibility of being locked up for a crime they didn't commit, could more than likely happen to them than an average man. Ya Allah, please continue your mercy on us; make me able to not only take care of them, but give them the tools mentally to carry on healthy if they ever have to live without me. Ameen, Allahuma Ameen