Finally Back!

 I won’t bore you with why I haven’t posted lately; really the most banal of reasons, and I would have to admit that I am not the IT maven I think I am.

Anyway, I figured out how to get back in because a friend of mine said I have some important things to say. Honestly, I don’t feel like I add much to anything, particularly since COVD killed my older guy’s momentum.

In short, he’s still working his part time gigs. No FTE. Yet. I must remain hopeful.

Younger fires on all cylinders. This kid, who was never the academic powerhouse his brother was, comes by his academic prowess honestly. He doesn’t have his brother’s photographic memory, so applies a rather rigorous work ethic to his academics.  This semester, he took basic psych, nutrition, his Microsoft class (in concert with his VoTech) and an upper level theater course (in which he blew me and dad away with his performance).

He did well; well enough for him to take on a full course load next semester (and, if that weren’t enough, he auditioned into a choral class that required him to get special dispensation from the VoTech for early dismissal twice a week to attend it).

Hell, why not?

He also has a weekly radio show he enjoys doing at the college radio station. And he continues to enjoy working at the pizzeria.

So that’s good.

In other news, we added Gary to our cockatiel flock in September; he’s a younger bird trying desperately to get Paulie’s affection. We just had our fourth trip to the vet this month for Paulie, and he’s not doing well. We’re just trying to keep him comfortable.

For the new year, I’m going to pray for some direction for elder. We didn’t come this far to fail.

Cinderella Lost Her Shoe and Found Something Else

 Uncommonly beautiful weekend here--I am finding myself paying close attention to days like this.

I can't even say exactly what we did this weekend, except I remember that the weather was exceptional. Yesterday I spent driving all over the Greater Philadelphia area, taking a friend to the airport, then down to the Schuykill to row, then a drive by in Powelton Village for elder to see a Restaurant Rescue site, then to South Philly for Asian food and a possible elevator.

So rowing, and aquafit--I'm finding that there are other ways than walking and hiking to staying healthy and in shape.  I used to do both for miles on end, and the joints just don't like that, anymore.   A friend got me into going to aquafit classes two nights a week, and now that's my thing.  I go Saturday mornings now, too, because I can, and because that class legit kicks my ass.

And the unexpected benefit to that is that the workouts I get from those classes help the rowing. So I've been prepping for the rowing without knowing that was what I was doing. 

And I am getting the hang of that. And the whole idea of being on a team is awesome, since the last time I was  on ANY team was U18 Tennis back in the old neighborhood.

The boys came with since we were going out to dinner after. And because of that, I had a dress on under my rash guard and board shorts. As I was exchanging digits with another rower, I stripped off my coverings and someone asked "You didn't really wear a dress under that?"

Why yes, yes I did.

But as we all know, I am a hot mess, and I couldn't put my damp clothes in my wet bag because that would make too much sense. So of course I was going to lose something on the way back to the car, but I didn't realize that til later. 

Elder rode shot gun and directed me to his POI and regaled us all with the history and why it closed, probably more than I ever wanted to know. And off to dinner, notable for the fact that the boys tried and liked sweet and sour chicken, scallion pancakes, Peking duck and surprise, we all discovered that younger liked rice. Really?  We had no idea. 

And they got my drink order all wrong--which is fine, I pretty much like everything, anyway, so no harm no foul.

But when I emptied out the back of the car when we got home, I discovered my left water sandal was missing.

Um.

I get upset and fixated over the darndest things.

I lie in bed and think about the shoe and where it could have landed.  I know every step between point A and point B. When I wake up, I am still thinking about the shoe and the strange appearance my dad made in my half waking over the weekend. I am also haunted by a younger version of me who is screaming every insecurity I ever had.  Unfortunately, this is me V 8.0 ish, so very loud and persistent. 

The birds must hear her because George is LOUD.  I shush him and make sure the birds have all they need. I go downstairs and make coffee.  I double check the back of the car-no left shoe.

I sit at the dining room table and solve the sudoku in the news paper.  And decide that I need to go look for the other shoe.

I pocket my swiss army knife and pepper spray--just in case.  And set off for the dock. The drive is quiet and uneventful--not a whole lot of traffic on Lincoln Drive or MLK.  Windows down, stereo off. And I pull into the lot, exactly where we parked....and behold, there is my left shoe.

I laugh.  Of course.  I toss the shoe in the car and take a stroll down to the dock.  There are sculls and out-rigger canoes out on the water.  It's a gorgeous morning to be rowing.

I hop in the car and take another route home, through Manayunk and the back roads along the river through Roxborough and Andorra, windows down, sunroof open, through Fairmount Park and then back in my own run.

And I'm not sure why, but I feel at peace.  I needed this--the solitude, the morning, the ride.

Grateful for these things.

Now what?

 Had my last parent panel last night.  And by last, I mean, it's time for me to hang up my school years expertise.  

I had become an expert in every area I needed to in the moment.  I am a C2P2 grad, but unlike the parents presenting last night, my certificate happened 13 years ago.  Both kids are officially OUT of K-12.Thus, my head is in an unprecedented place.

I feel like Wile E. Coyote running out of cliff and just realizing I am in midair.

Yipe.

And just like that, I am at loose ends with both of their loose ends.

I think this is the part where I take those loose ends, tie a knot, and hang on.

The chasm has never yawned more widely.

Anger Management

 We live in intense times.

Some argue that COVD warped us, but our problems began before that. COVD only magnified and exacerbated the problem.

I'm talking about the pervasive anger that is literally everywhere. I'm talking about the fact that we are indeed living in the wild wild west; permission has been given to be an asshole and assert that right whenever one feels they have been slighted.

Take traffic patterns at the toll plaza of the Verrazzano Bridge.  There is never a good time to be there; it is always congested (to wit, I think the only time I hit zero traffic was travelling east to Long Island during the Super Bowl 20-something years ago).  Anyway, anyone who has ever been will tell you that it is DEATH to stop; you keep moving, you keep edging along, you just roll with the traffic, and sooner or later you and everyone else stuck in that scrum will get through it and cruise on to the other side.

Costco on a Sunday afternoon after church isn't any different.  Same principles apply; you merge, you blend, you keep going, and eventually, you will see the person to check off your receipt and you will see the light of day.

The person behind me last Sunday did not see it that way.

So there I am, with my single case of seltzer gotten for elder, because I was there filling the gas tank anyway, where was the harm?  Until I got into the warehouse, and oh fuck, it is way too crowded and peoply in here, but I'm here, so let's just get the thing....

I check out, and do the described merge above.  Somewhere behind me and to the right I hear "I am so fucking sick of these people cutting me off. I am not going to take this anymore.  Fuck this person."

Is she talking about me?  I seem to attract this sort of thing.  But, see above--I had people coming through checkout behind me--it's not like I can STOP; I need to keep moving.

But I'm not the only one doing this thing; indeed, people are filing in ahead of me from the checkouts between me and the exit, so I don't give it another thought except to get to the left side when the line splits so as to avoid the near occasion of the angry person back and to my right.

Except.  Angry person back and to my right gets behind me (probably cutting someone off in so doing) and slams her cart into mine.

I pause.  She really didn't just do that, did she?  I turn around to meet the angry smile that pretends to be bright. "Oh, I'm sorry," she says sweetly.

"No you're not, I heard you," I reply and turn back around. No way in hell was I letting her get away with that.  Dead silence.  She knows I'm listening now. The man checking receipts takes mine.  I maximize the value of my voice that carries.

"My only item," I smile. He thanks me, checking it off.  "See ya!" directed at lady behind me. Don't wanna be yaaaaa.

But I'm shaken as I wheel my cart back to my car.  What if she has a gun?  What if she decides it's okay to shoot because I pissed her off?

What kind of world am I living in that my head is even going here?

The road is not much better.  I drive defensively because people either aren't paying attention or think their time is more important than yours or simply think that the traffic laws don't apply to them. 

I had a similar situation yesterday, driving on a road that merges with another, then separates a quarter of a mile later. This particular intersection is rife with accidents, because all the above.  Someone in a black Kia decided to play chicken on this stretch.  The person ahead of me yielded to the crazy, and I approved. Then the person ahead turned off, and I was behind crazy.  Coming up to a stop light, I moved to the turning lane to take my road.  As I passed crazy, she was SCREAMING at me for passing her.  I couldn't hear her, because my window was up, but she was wailing like a banshee.

I made my turn and made my way quickly and quietly in case she decided to tail me.  Fortunately, she kept going straight, screaming all the while. 

I don't think it was me. I just happened to be there to bear witness. But again that thought.....

Sustaining that kind of anger must be exhausting.

So, there was supposed to be a recessional.....

 **Audience is asked to stand in place until academic staff and graduates have exited the field.
(from the commencement program).

This didn't happen, but I get ahead of myself.

The difference of having my two four years apart is as different as my two...two completely different people with two completely different sets of things going on. Looking back over the last 17 years in this school district through the lens of our unique perspective (because I know there isn't a family like ours, or we would have met them by now), I have to say the boys did okay, measured by the yardstick of the norm.

However, we sit outside of that, so by any measure, they blew the roof off of every expectation anyone has ever had of them.  Well, except for me and dad, because neither of us expected any less from our kids.

But, we're not done, yet.  They both have a whole lifetime ahead of them. 

But, in the moment, there's this moment, where all the teachers and graduates process in, caps, gowns, sashes, medals, ribbons--all the pomp and circumstance. What's different about this moment and the one four years ago is, well, everything. Elder's class was just ahead of The Last Normal.  Then pandemic, then everything shut down, derailed, and everyone is in the same damn ocean flailing because the boat that was our "normal" sank into the unprecedented.

So younger's night looked like elder's, except it wasn't.

Graduation was an hour earlier--why?  Because Ida took out the stadium lights last September when the world ended, and they haven't been replaced, yet. It was an hour earlier, and an hour hotter.  But, all of the family and friends packed the stands, like four years ago, because we could, and because we all need a little more of the "normal" that sank. Even the speeches reflected the difference of the last four years from when they arrived. In sophomore year, they were supposed to be off for two weeks--not to return in person for the rest of the year. That year lost what we had last night--that "normal", that celebration.  Their junior year started in that same fashion--and a lot of activities were canceled, and the seniors who were supposed to have "their year"....didn't.

And this is the thing that put all our kids in the same boat...in the same struggle. Everything we had expected just wasn't THAT anymore. 

Four years ago, the closing, class response, and recessional went off with precision; everyone stood in place while the graduates and faculty filed out and glided by twos back to the A-Plex.

Last night,  it was not that. 

After the Class Response, "Uptown Funk" blared through the speakers.  The graduates tossed their caps into the air.  Then they all started looking for their caps.  And then they all started hugging, shaking hands, exchanging fist bumps.

And then any semblence of "normal" went out the window.  Dammit, this was a celebration, so the hell with that recessional.  Let's all go down to the field and join them!

So we did. 

It's a good way to close out this chapter. 

We'll enjoy this moment. Because we still have a lot to do. 

This Time Around

 Younger walks in less than 6 hours.

He'll do what his brother did; stay on to attend VoTech while attending the community college.  We've been here before, and yet, we haven't...

There are differences this time; there are things that younger had access to that his brother did not.  Was it that his brother wasn't paying attention?  Or was it that he wasn't invited?  Or maybe he opted out? The young man who is no poker player has his game face on. He's a score keeper; he knows exactly who got what and when.  He's pointed out more than once when younger got something he didn't.

"You are two different people," I remind him, "You didn't do band.  You did other things."

But.  When I was running my last volunteering effort at the high school last week, I got into a conversation with one of the advisors about the mugs we were passing out to the students (I had younger's stashed under a table). She said, yeah, they've been doing this for 17 years....

I blinked.  Four years ago, elder didn't get a mug, and I mention that.  

She blinks.  "Oh, we have extra, if you can wait, I'll get it for you."

I was willing to wait. 

(And a mom posted on social media later that her kid didn't get a mug.  I felt that.)

Later in the week, younger had graduation practice. I drop his brother off to job shadow first.  Younger reminds me that we need to go to his elementary school after to walk the halls.

I am game to do this. But....elder didn't.

If you go back in my blog 11 years ago, the why is pretty clear. But by the same token, I don't recall even knowing it was happening. 

Elder isn't saying anything.

There are dozens of other little differences.  But then, they are different people...and times are different. 

Imprint

So I just heard about the death of my first mentor on what would have been her 68th birthday.  Our relationship was a fraught one--a lot of good, a lot of bad, and a lot of ugly. I haven't spoken to her in decades, but the news made decades ago seem pretty immediate. She filled a lot of gaps in my life, and I suspect I filled a lot of gaps for her as well, or our relationship would not have lasted as long as it did.

She also opened my world in a way no one else at that time could have, and for that I owe her a debt of gratitude.  Most of the signers of my yearbooks Junior and Senior years did not go to high school with me; they were my peeps--the peeps she introduced me to, my first glimpse into the fact that I *would* find my people.

(I could do a whole other riff on John Lennon, but that might need to be a separate blog)

One of my friends and I remembered her over dinner.  She saw a lot of things I didn't, but she always does. 

We had kept up with one another sporadically, or, as she remembered me.  I wasn't exactly a priority, so she eventually fell off my priorities as well. She reconnected with me shortly after I got married, but then I didn't hear from her again, guessing she was annoyed I didn't invite her. I'll never know. I had tried to reconnect with her after younger was born, but she kept ghosting me, and then ended up in the deep south with her partner. I lost track of her after that. 

When I noticed her obit in my inbox, oddly after the fact but on her birthday, I found myself looking for her on social media.  Whatever I was feeling fell away. I know from before she had a rough life, and it never got all that much easier. And when every single person you've ever loved has departed for the underworld, there's not much left to do but to join them. 

I've all but forgotten the hurt; she *saw* me, and whatever she exploited in pursuit of her own ends kind of doesn't matter now. It's done, and anything I lost wasn't anything I missed. 

Til next time.

Fan Girl

 My first brushes with celebrity happened the Thanksgiving after my dad died. A neighbor took me with his kids down to the Channel 6 Thanksgiving parade; we somehow ended up in the staging area (he knew a guy or two), and I met Captain Noah and Gene London, two children's show personalities who were on the local stations since forever leading up to that point.  The autographs I had gotten are long gone. Captain Noah had his game face on, and Gene London looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. This cold, bright day is one of the few things I remember about that time after my own sun disappeared.

There were other brushes with celebrity; when I met the first incarnation of My People in high school, I went to Sci Fi conventions and met most of the original Star Trek cast plus Tom Baker (THE Fourth Doctor). DamnifIknow what happened to those autographs.  Running in the background of that, though, I was a serious Anglophile--I had it in my head that I was going to go live in England and join the Royal Shakespeare Company and get a permanent posh accent and everything (spoiler alert: that didn't happen). 

So I settled for the next best thing and went to England with my school shortly after my high school graduation. My mother would have rather had me loose in a foreign country than down the Jersey shore during Senior Week. As soon as we settle in our hotel and had itineraries in hand, I scanned for free times and plopped it alongside the RSC's brochure (one of the chaperones had tried to tell me they were closed for the season; I knew that wasn't the case).  And bingo, my crush du jour Roger Rees was playing Hamlet at the Barbican (alongside a then little-known actor named Kenneth Branagh) during one of those itinerary openings.

I hit the concierge desk and bought the last four tickets, 10th row center.  And then told one of the chaperones that I was NOT going to the Hippodrome with the rest of the group, I was going to see some Shakespeare, because dammit, I didn't come all this way to go to some freaking night club.

It legit was not that hard a sell: that chaperone and her husband were MORE than happy to not, but she told me I needed to get another student to come along.  Turned out there was a sophomore who would also Rather Not, so the four of us went to see some Shakespeare.  The rest of the girls made fun of us and told us to have fun.

DAY-UM. 

It was this excursion that introduced me to the Stage Door. And as jazzed as I was to see some incredible theater, it was an even bigger charge to meet my crush (also a bit of a let-down when my gay-dar went WAY off, but it was all good, I got what I came for, and I still have THAT autograph).  When the girls asked me sardonically how Shakespeare went, I rhapsodically waxed poetic about it for hours on end to the point that they as a collective had a little buyer's remorse.

This is the bar that all subsequent celebrity encounters was set against.

And there have been a few, Patrick Stewart, Salman Rushdie (who I literally ran into coming off an elevator while I was working at Random House), Kurt Vonnegut, Audrey Meadows, Brian Wilson to name a few.  We were at a gala a couple years ago when one of Nic's heroes was emceeing.  I announced to my table that I was off to get an autograph and a selfie for my son, and they thought I was kidding.

Nope. 

Then there was the time we took younger and his friend to see Mandy Patinkin.  Both were stunned to learn that you can wait at the stage door and MEET the person on stage.  So we did, and we did. Hubby got some good pics.

Then there was the time I drove into the city with my younger guy to meet his favorite cartoonist. Not only did we meet him, we have an awesome little cartoon drawn just for younger (we still need to frame it).

The latest iteration happened when I saw Lin-Manuel Miranda was performing for one night only in Freestyle Love Supreme.  I asserted my agency and bought four tickets and told elder, "We are GOING to this show and we are GOING to meet this guy."

Ordinarily my older guy is a reluctant participant in these outings, but this being one of his heroes, was a little different. Instead of the usual complaints, he was legit excited.

So there was no way in hell I was leaving the stage door area without LM's scribble.

Apparently half the audience had the same idea; and they had gotten to the stage door first.

So, the logistician kicked in:  where was my best shot at achieving my objective?  The boys and I had been in the back, and I saw LM's hat in the sea of people off to the left.  I made my way over and wriggled my way as close to the front as I could. 

I knew I was at the tail end of the signing.  Everyone was calling his name and waving their program. 

I called his name. Once.

I saw him look up and search. And we locked eyes. And he smiled, reached for my program, and signed it.

And I was one of the last programs he signed.

I could hardly believe it. 

I wriggled back out from the scrum and found hubby. I grinned broadly and waved my program.  The boys, having been dismissed with the rest of the crowd came moping over.  Elder was quite bitter about not having met LM.  I waved my program at him.

"WHAT?"

"HOW?"

Both of them grabbed the program and marveled at the squiggle. And then both marveled at me for having gotten it in the first place. It mattered not that they didn't meet him because as far as they were concerned, I was their proxy, and I did it for them. 

Anyone who had known me any amount of time will tell you that I can literally do anything I set my mind to.

Imagine what I could do if I used that power for good......

Kaddish

 I went to a funeral last week; seems my attendance of these things are becoming more frequent. This one was for someone I met in person all of twice and haven't been in active touch for years. When I heard of his passing, of course I had to go...

...en route it occurs to me that I will know no one.

We initially crossed paths in 2004 on the Brian Wilson Blue Board.  He was witty, friendly, and seemed to know everything about everything. This group helped get me through the worst of my blackout depression of 2005-06. (A lot of shit went down then; that I got through it is nothing short of miraculous.) Hubby and I met up with a few in Red Bank, NJ when we scored last minute tickets to a fund raiser.  We met up with him and a few ladies before the show, then after, across the street at a bar for a late dinner and drinks. 

We were sitting outside, and it began to drizzle. Whenever we chatted, he would tell me he would meet up for damp burgers anytime.

We both eventually drifted away from the Blue Board and went on to do our things.  He moved back to PA and enjoyed performing theater and improv when he wasn't working his day job. I'd keep up with his doings on social media, and we'd joke that we needed to meet up for damp burgers.

I remember early days of isolation that he asked people to write him snail mail. I jotted down his address and thought I'd get the boys to drop him a line, too. Then life overwhelmed, as it does, and that good intention got buried, like so many do. 

I really do try to be impeccable in my word; if I say I'm going to do something, I do it. Except for when I get buried, then I triage, and sometimes promises need to get walked back or re-jiggered.

It helps if I am in fairly regular contact with the contractee; and if you aren't insistent, sometimes I fail to pick up where I left off.

So, he died, and the least I could do was go pay my respects.

I missed the turn headed to the cemetery; it's okay, he had me covered--I was able to make a turn that under normal circumstances would have been impossible to make, traffic being what it is. And I didn't endanger anyone doing it--yay.

But by coming in this side entrance, I missed the color coding of all the services happening that afternoon.  I stop at one intersection, puzzling at the nameless colored arrows,  I stared at the orange one, which went away from a majority of the other ones.  I could swear I heard him say, "That's the one."

Fortunately, the office was enroute, and there was an employee coming my way on a golf cart. I called out "How do I know where a graveside service is?"

He smiled, "MJC?  See that tent?" Literally a hundred yards off to my left over a small hill, I could make out the top of it.  I thanked him and hurried over.

It was good to see a crowd, about 100 people or so crowded under or near the tent. He was a good guy. Whoever couldn't be there in person tuned in over Zoom. I had gotten the link in case I couldn't get away.  I stood off by myself; I wasn't here for anyone but him.

And he literally got me there, so I knew he knew I made it. 

Rest in peace.  Keep up the improv and theater and puns. And enjoy a damp burger.

On Your Right

 Hmm. A lot of things at the moment...may as well start with the last thing first.

So I was sitting out on the upper deck enjoying some sunshine (we've had an exceptional couple of days), and listening to robins and catbirds calling up a storm.  Already an alarm should have been ringing because 1) I saw the flash of a sharp-shinned by my kitchen window and 2) the sun is a little high and hot for birds to be actively marking territory.

But in the moment, I am enjoying the sun, the birds, the relative quiet.

Until the sharp-shinned flew fast from the shrubbery below with something in its talons--I think he was expecting to feed on the deck but was a little surprised to see me, so kept winging quickly mere inches past my shoulder.  It took a minute to register that I was seeing a newish chick with the raptor.

The catbird came flying out shortly thereafter, perching up in the dogwood and crying plaintively.

I apologized to it.  I didn't have its chick. 

The robin is singing now.  I think "There but for the grace of God."  George is yelling back at it. Paulie is busy eating. 

The birds are singing again.

Birds ran the weekend. I played darts on Friday night while hubby ran elder up to bingo in another part of the forest. Enjoyed a little of everything. Fortunately, he picked me up on the way home.  He had some thoughts on where he was he shared the next morning.  Which came early because we were at our local nature center at 6 am with one of his coworkers looking for the pileated woodpecker--and got skunked; the pileateds moved on and left flickers in their wake. Out to breakfast. Took younger to flea markets while elder elevatored with one of his teachers. Younger worked; elder worked; then  three of us went out for ice cream.

I paddled yesterday--left side this time. I'm starting to feel it now.  Hoping to land in a drama-free space.

Spent the better part of today in a training, and just took younger to a school function. He wanted me to come in with him, and I hung back "because it would make me look like a mama's boy?" he asked after. 

"Yep," I answered. "Did you get into any conversations?"

He's sharp; he knows what I'm asking. "Some," he answered.

"The world is a bigger place than this," I reminded him. "You need to go out into it to find your people."

"Yeah mom, I get that."

I know he does. 

Slack

 I'm just realizing as we are running up hard against high school graduation that there's a lot of stuff that younger didn't do, yet.

A lot of the stuff elder had to do, he did with the help of one of the staff at the high school.  Younger didn't have that kind of attention. Like I said, he rolls on his own at his own speed, and he'll get where he's going when he gets there.

But, there's stuff to do. Selective service, voter registration, meeting with his college advisor, and oh yeah, OVR registration and the paperwork for SSI (that will be denied, but we need to do it, anyway). And there's a party we're planning, which means invites and whatnot.  

So I made a list and started to help younger knock some stuff out. We got about halfway through the list, but now I have to look for some other paperwork so I can finish up what needs to get done. 

The paperwork, it never ends.

We went to younger's awards night last night, two hours of all kinds of awards. We didn't have this for elder. Kind of a shame because I felt like he should have gotten something for all his grief. Anyway. He sat with us, and other kids sat with their friends.  That again. He didn't seem to mind or notice.

But sometimes I don't know what he minds or notices. 

Onward.

Sunflowers

 Kind of funny, what makes us stop and look around.

I nearly tripped over a snapping turtle yesterday at our local nature park.  We had been looking for the pileated woodpeckers nesting there, but failing that, we walked around and saw all the other woodpeckers, songbirds, and even a raptor (a duck occasionally reminded anyone who would listen that he was there, in the pond).  We joked that I looked up, and he looked down, which is why I nearly tripped over the turtle. 

I stopped a minute. And looked. And she was so still I thought she was a statue. Likely we walked right by her as she was laying her eggs. But then she blinked, and I called hubby over to look. A runner speeding toward us needed to know he had a literal stumbling block if he weren't careful. So the three of us stood marveling at her until she tired of us and ambled away at a glacial pace (being a turtle).

These reminders that life persists and that out planet is worth fighting for are important. Later, I was driving around Philly on an errand when I nearly tripped (again) over a box of uprooted sunflowers, with a note urging someone (anyone) to take them and plant them.

I was out in the little red car, but I wasn't going to let that deter me from my quest.  I figured out a way to wedge the box in the passenger seat so that the stalks would rest on the seat back.  While I was figuring this out, an elderly woman watched me with amusement. She surprised me when I turned around and I said sheepishly, "I'm just trying to give them a home."

She grinned broadly and waved me on.

She reminded me of an elderly couple who lived up the street from me, Barbara and Sebastiano. I hadn't thought of them in years. Barbara was a little wren of a woman and her husband was tall, bald, always with a hat on, in a waistcoat and long dark slacks no matter how hot it was, smoking his pipe, processing around the block slowly, deep in thought.  He would meet you on the street, take the pipe out of his mouth and say "How do?" and replace the pipe, hands reinstalled behind his back, head down, and on he'd go, pondering all things. 

I'd like to ask him now what he was thinking.

Did they have sunflowers in their back yard?  I think they did. That's why they were with me in spirit as I found a place in my yard to plant them, and then put them in the ground as quickly as possible. 

I give them even odds.  It's a really hot day today.

Differentiation

 "You are the most mediocre overachiever I've ever met."

I'm 15 or 16 or 17, sitting in a trailer run by CORA services. It's hot; my polyester uniform is sticking to me but the physical is the least of my discomfort.  The counselor and I were trying to get to the bottom of Why I Am the Way I Am.

I wasn't in the headspace to find out.  At this particular moment, she's talking to me about all the extra curricular activities I was involved in at school.  When I think back to the WHY then, it's pretty stupid; my whole goal was to show up in the yearbook as many times as possible.  Why?  I was always conscious of my status as a Scholarship Kid, just lucky to be there. I didn't want to be lucky; I wanted to deserve it.

As my husband likes to say, it's better to be lucky than good. 

My younger self had never heard such a thing. It's probably better I didn't.

But the other piece was a matter of trying to figure out WHO I was.  The wider the net I cast, the better my chances of finding my people.  So I tried all the things.  

I didn't realize that I was building a prototype of the programming that I would later subject both of my boys to.  I called that "Attending the Church of Throw Everything Against the Wall and See What Sticks" (alternately titled "Real World Immersion Therapy") Trying stuff out, meeting new people, trying them out, lather, rinse, repeat....

So now that we are coming to the end of education and running headlong toward the "21 Cliff", it's time to pick up the rhythm, as if I hadn't done so already.  Elder, as crazy as he drives me because he's a crap roommate, is doing the thing; he's got his jobs, he starts the new gig next month (and will begin to lobby for FTE), and he's got his bingo.  He has his One Good Friend.  All he needs is his driver's license.

Younger has some basic adulting paperwork to do that I need to help him get started with.  He actually slipped through some cracks (and I stop to take a text from him to remind him that he needs to get paid this week.)

In between the work stuff, the endless paperwork, the ongoing medical stuff, I have been deliberately carving out time and space for me to get back to exploring some stuff I've been interested in and haven't had time to think about.  A huge chunk of that is happenstance; political activism, rowing, darts, aquatic classes--people intersecting with activities.

Elder is just starting to work all this out. I'm hoping by doing the thing, younger will start taking action on his own.

This kid.  He of the spiky cognitive profile who may or may not have been oxygen-deprived at birth (I'll never know for sure, all we ever knew is that the cord was flattened and that he was whisked away to the NICU--and don't think for a minute that THAT hasn't been at the back of my mind the last 18 years...). He's as dogged and persistent as he is other-worldly. I never know what to expect from him and therefore he forever surprises me. 

Our education doesn't stop here. We just need a bigger classroom...

Showing Up Redux

 Elder spent the better part of yesterday at the ER.  Ear is healing, but we need an ENT.

I was thinking on something that happened recently, where the boys wanted to show up for an event.  I have lamented for a long time that they never achieved that One Good Friend in their time in school. Perhaps I was mistaken.

I'm thinking of a moment during this event wherein elder was speaking to someone.  A girl of his acquaintance had stopped by to chat with hubby and I. We exchanged pleasantries, quick updates, and she went off.  But, before she left, she reached around elder and pressed a hand to his chest and leaned her head on his shoulder, a genuine gesture of affection.

In the bustle, I caught that and my jaw dropped. Because in my cynicism, I saw her as someone who viewed my boys as an occasional project or good deed. But in that simple, single act, I saw something else.

After all, my guys showed up. Because that's what friends do.

And that's what I saw.

It's good to be wrong. 

Dropping Back

Elder is ailing.

He's 10 days or so into some mystery ailment. He tested negative for flu and COVD, but whatever it was settled into his ear.  He made himself an appointment with his PCP and got a script for antibiotics, and we thought that would be that.

Except, it wasn't.  The earache dug in and redoubled over late Friday into Saturday.  Hubby pitched urgent care, and I opted for doctor on call. I made the calls and PCP seconds urgent care.

I help elder with the paperwork, and hubby goes back with him.  Steroid drops are prescribed with instructions to continue his current medication.

He improves long enough for a quick visit to friends, but hits a wall at his 6-hour mark.  We go home, wait another hour for the next doses, and he gets maybe 2 hours of sleep.  I hear him get up around 3:30 am, and I get up myself around 5:20 to check on him. He's miserable. I give him a couple ibuprofen and go back to bed.....

and wake up less than 15 minutes before I am supposed to lector the 7:30 mass.  I dose elder his drops as I am heading out the door.

I get to church on time (barely) to do the thing.  I'm thinking of elder the whole time and kick myself for racing out of the house without my pyx. (Not that I would have had time to put a wafer in it and set it on the altar, but it was a good thought in the moment).

We cancel plans. I'm not feeling great myself. Hubby and younger work on rebuilding an old iPod. I'm contemplating a hot day, a whirlwind trip to Boston, and an airplane ride I took 48 years ago today.  Pink dress, back when you dressed up to travel.  Change to a coordinated short set from Sears to go to Sea World.

Dad had finished radiation treatment. His doctor had advised to Go Now.  So he did.

So we did. 

For today, we will lay low and sit tight.  I will help him navigate his next steps, calling his PCP, arranging to see a specialist, and he will figure out what needs to happen next.

This is all a part of learning in a world that has gotten infinitely and unnecessarily complicated.

Traveling Outside Our Box

 Sometimes the universe sends a message over email.

I'm still not sure where it came from or how it ended up in my inbox; a flyer calling all teens learning to drive to a safety rodeo somehow caught my attention amidst the usual spam and ads.

I scanned it; technically, my non teenager still qualified because we're still under aegis of our school district (thanks to COVD and the hot minute I had to take advantage of a legislative window) and having elder there would encourage younger to attend.

He was onboard anyway, because the location of the rodeo put us in the flightpath of his very specific pizza he's been asking for since January.  Elder, on the other hand, was not.  He complained bitterly the entire car ride there.  He stopped complaining when he saw the elevator at our destination.

And the piles of donuts that awaited in breakfast buffet pretty much ended all complaints.

Both kids sat near me; I was set up to work while they did the thing.  Two young girls commented on the older guys sitting off to the side, and I offered that they may be rides.  Younger sat down between us and promptly joined the conversation when "Pitch Perfect" was mentioned.

Hearing younger chatting up the ladies, elder turned his attention to the trio and introduced himself (over me) and the four chatted until the program started.  My guys were divided up, and the groups headed out. At this point, I could have wrapped up what I was doing but a) I was working and b) my presence would be disruptive. Plus, being away from them allowed me to have my own conversations with new people.

One of the stops was in the room where the program was set up; my younger guy sat in the back of his group; elder went up and did the demo.  Judging from the number of tickets they both had for raffles at the end, it seemed like they were participating.  And when they all gathered for the last part of the program, I didn't have to wonder;  both had plenty to say.

The best part of being away from the usual is that I get a fairly objective view of how the rest of the world sees them. And the glance I got yesterday says it isn't bad.

While they were attending the program, I ordered my first online food--the very specific pizza.  I arranged for pick up 20 minutes after the projected end of the program, which naturally ran late. Plus, elder had to be at work soon after.  With younger riding shotgun, we sped to our specific pizza, never mind there were at least 15 better pizza places on the way there.  I thought I was going to pick the food up myself, but the other two doors opened, out they hopped, and it all felt vaguely Blues Brothers.  The woman behind the counter wasn't expecting company, but she didn't seem to mind the boys' questions about the portal and the set up, but couldn't answer younger's queries on precisely how long the business was at this particular place. I asked for napkins, and away we went.

Of course we didn't have time to stop and eat, and the pizza place was take out only, so out came the napkins and pizza, and we all made short work of it. I laughed out loud at one point, napkined pizza in hand at a stop light, and announced that this tableau was so US.

The boys weren't amused.

Elder gets dropped off at work and I still have stops to make. And there was an awards ceremony both boys wanted to get to (that I hadn't bought tickets for because I hoped they would both forget about it).  As per usual, both of them had a very specific agenda, and they were united in their purpose; therefore, there was no way in hell they were missing this thing.

But elder was working, guaranteeing a late arrival. Hubby frantically looked for clothes that would fit, well, the three of them. Once he pieced together an outfit for elder, we went to pick him up from work, and hubby helped to get him dressed.  We walked in just as the award presentation was starting.

Both boys were murmuring about who they could see, who they wanted to see, and making a list of people to hit up once the ceremony was over. Dad and I periodically shushed them and told them they can talk all they wanted when the ceremony ended.  And when it did, they rocketed away from us.

"Should we follow them?" hubby asked.

I shook my head. This was their show, now. The two of them worked the room, systematically meeting and greeting every single person they wanted to talk to.  And many of those people came over to us, anyway.  Many of them have known both kids for a long time, and had a lot to say about how far they've come. I laugh and say all I can see is the road ahead.

The boys bring people over to us, and then are off again, meeting, greeting, working the room. 

They are so uniquely them. I love them and all their extra.

"This," I say to hubby, gesturing to the room, "is why."

Hard Things and Heavy Lifts

 So this has been the week of the smackdown. 

This past week kind of had to happen the way it did, because I never learn things the easy way. Honestly, it was a lot, and I deserved it. 

I hate to say it like that, but it's true. 

I'm trying to keep this in perspective. I am in the process of getting the boys where they need to go. THAT has been a huge sustained heavy lift.  So why do I feel this bad about the stuff going sideways?

Answer: because I know I can do better. 

But I needed to get humbled and shaken up.  So the first part of the day was apologizing, and the second part of the day was trying to get my figurative house in order.  I've made headway, but I think tomorrow will be the heavier lift in straightening myself out. 

I made a lot of stupid, little, careless mistakes. 

I need to get my shit together. 

Time is running out. 

When Things Go Sideways

 I talk a great game to the kids about this--not everything is within your control, so you manage your reaction to whatever happens. However, I am not very good about taking my own advice. I found out in quite an unexpected way that something I shared....was better not shared.

This has been a week of those kinds of mistakes--the ones you only recognize as mistakes in the rear view mirror. 

Throw in my propensity for catastrophizing, and it's not a good look. 

So I've been sitting up here with the birds, throwing darts, solving sudoku, taking deep cleansing breaths, reminding myself the world is likely going to end ANYWAY, wondering why I am so stressed out. I can tell myself that I am not whatever I do wrong, but I'm feeling it, anyway.

I make it a point to treat people well, because people never remember what you do or say, only how you make them feel. 

I was made to feel like shit earlier today.  I'm trying to shake it off but failing.

I am not my mistakes.

I'm just a human being. 

I need a time out to fix my head.  It seems to be broken. 

Turn It Off

 This is one of my favorite songs from Book of Mormon because it has so many practical applications.

So after my yowl last post (I'm over it, really), people gave me feedback. I am always receptive to feedback, even if it's FFS get over it and move on. And really, they aren't wrong; while I'm internally wailing and gnashing teeth, younger guy is watching something and laughing his head off (he and his brother have discovered Reality TV and have a particular fondness for bar and restaurant rescues). Dad and I are in the dining room talking quietly over the remains of dinner, and if he hears us, he's not acknowledging.

So yesterday was Mother's Day, and the card I played was "You will do this for me because it's Mother's Day."  So I got beds changed, laundry put away, trash and recycling carried out, and hubby made brunch and dinner. And I went to the grocery story after church and picked up a couple things the kids wanted and Bloody Mary makings.  Because darn it, I was having a bespoke Bloody Mary for Mother's Day.

I like briny, so my Bloody Mary was more Bloody Caesar--V8, horseradish, clam juice, olive brine, pickle brine, worcestershire sauce and of course the vodka I won at the silent auction last month.  OMG. I will never go for Bloody Mary mix again.  This is the stuff. Anyway. It was amazing.

Back to dinner. Hubby told me to go chill while he finished clean up (I gave him a running start because that's what I do), and G announced he was going to make his lunch for today and make some brownies.

This is my kid. He's present in his moment and doesn't spend a lot of time fretting about stuff.  He talks to himself to process whatever he has going on, sometimes also to course-correct conversations he had.

Which kind of makes me laugh.  He's rehearsing come-backs. I used to do the same thing.

I also tend to worry more about him because he's so opaque to me; he's so very hard to read.

And I conflate my own reactions to things with his because in the vacuum of his reactions, mine tend to overwhelm me. 

So when I tell myself to turn it off, I don't mean to shut down my antennae; I mean to put a lock on where my imagination goes in the absence of data.  I am a catastrophizer, for better or for worse.

So, less of that.

I found the brownies were all but gone this morning.  So I just went down after my meeting and made more. 

Because I could.

And because I want to honor his take on the world.  Make less angst and more brownies. 

Prom Thoughts

So my younger guy went to the prom last night.

For some reason, I didn't see him doing that. I think left to his own devices, he would have skipped it.  But his brother has been toting that banner for the last three years:  he went and had a great time. Therefore, there is no way his brother could *not* go.

Elder had the whole thing sketched out for younger:  younger would go with the younger sister of the girl who was his date, and that would be that.  He was obsessed with the whole thought.  And elder is tenacious of some of these thoughts. (he's actually tenacious of lots of thoughts, but I will get there in a sec), to such a degree that I often do the equivalent of patting him on the head and sending him along to whatever he was supposed to be doing. 

But we got to March, and younger said "So mom, they are selling tickets to prom.  Can you write me a check?"

I looked at him a minute. "Just for you?"

"No, also [younger sister of friend]."

"Does she know you are buying her a ticket?"

(she didn't)

I tell him I will help him get tickets (which, btw, he bought with his own money, because big brother did that, and we keep things as equal as possible), IF he does the thing and asks the girl.

First, he posts on her FB page.

NO.  I make him delete the post.  I text my friend and get her daughter's cell number, then forward it to younger.

Who texts her.

Facepalm.  "CALL her." 

He does. The conversation lasts about 30 seconds, but he gets a yes, so that's really the point.  And he's all  about getting to the point.

Dad took him to get fitted for the tux.  On Friday, I take him and his brother to pick it up and send him in to handle the whole transaction. I also send his brother in, who balks: "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything, just be support for your brother."

And surprise, they both go in and pick up the tux and accoutrements without incident. 

Next day, he cleans up, and we help him dress.  Hubby suggests I find my father's cufflinks for the occasion. Thus, grandpop is along for the evening. 

We drive out to the next county and pick up his date.  They chat in the backseat while hubby and I occasionally offer a thought or two from the front. We drop them off, and they are greeted by some of the administration at the hotel entrance. Dad and I go home and have a quiet dinner and watch a movie together.  I text elder and tell him to take Lyft home, because we have another hour and change round trip to take younger's date home. 

Oddly, no pushback from elder.  He books his ride without incident.

We pick the kids up. They are quiet on the ride back. Younger sends me the pictures he took.  A few selfies, and a couple pictures with a couple of his classmates with him and his date.

For some reason, they make me sad. I think it's the tidal wave of group prom photos on social media getting to me. This isn't my kid's life.  

But he was lucky to find someone who could appreciate the unbearable lightness of G for an evening.

And this is a good thing. 

And it has to be good enough.

For now.

Locked and Loaded

 Just had elder call and confirm all paperwork was received.  I am trying to convince him that he needs to send a follow up email, because I am all about the paper trail.

I heard from someone else who can help, so perhaps I need to let this play out. He's had plenty of scaffolding up to this point, and at some point, he's going to fly on his own. He's doing the things, but he still needs a little direction on the things that need to be done. He will get there. 

We pick up the younger guy's tux this afternoon. I just had a conversation with elder about setting younger up for his first Lyft ride, and thus, he edges closer to that adulting thing.

So, once upon a time, I was told not to expect much. Both guys have their own sets of challenges; I never thought I'd be equal to the task of parenting, let alone parenting children with extra. But, this story is still being written, and rewritten, and many things that have come to pass in the last four years alone were not even ON that list of expectations that came with dx and subsequent years of therapies, correctives, alignments, adjustments...whatever you want to call any of it. My name for my primary therapy was Real Life Immersion Therapy wherein we do the things the peers are doing and learn how to people.

I won't lie, it's been brutal at times. I was a bit of a shrinking violet until necessity compelled me to be a mama bear and become the mom my boys needed. I became someone my pre-mom self would never even recognize.

If I'm honest, that's a good thing. 

More importantly, my boys have made it a point to let the world know they are people first--not a dx. 

They are doing this because they watched me do it first.

I can't get tied up with the fact that there are young folk who have the same labels but managed to come into adulthood relatively unscathed. Comparisons are pretty pointless, anyway. But I do see how others are making out and sometimes I wish my guys had it better.

I wish it weren't so hard for them. 

But all things being equal, the will appreciate every damn thing they earn, because they will have earned it. 

And that's something. 

The Open Door

 One of the many things happening right now is a huge shift that comes from putting childish things away.

I'm sitting on the upper back deck listening the birds, thinking and reflecting on things happening  with my little unit. My birds are awesome and a constant source of support and entertainment. We sent the last of elder's paperwork off on Friday and are waiting to see if there are any outliers--not too long; I want to make sure there is nothing standing in the way of day 1.

Younger played some guitar for me this afternoon before we went to order his flowers for prom.  So, he's all set. Elder shadowed again this morning. And I'm second week in on new gig. (Not really, because I've been doing the thing a few months now, but still doing all the paperwork that goes with the change of ownership).

Where I think I want to go today is to my village. I've spent the better part of the last 20 years building it, but it only feels like NOW the tree is finally bearing fruit.  This isn't to say that people haven't been there for me or us in all that time--not at all. We've always had what we needed when we've needed it, and for that I will be forever grateful.  No, I think it's more about the fact that I am finally in a position to be able to pay back and pay forward all the wonderful things that people have been able to do for us, and I finally feel like my head is free to do these things.

That probably sounds a little weird--what I mean is that all the volunteering and village eldering I've been doing has been an intentional way of ensuring my kids are included--heck, I know I've said that a million times.  This has required me to push waaaaay outside my comfort zone and do things that I probably never would have done in a million years otherwise (CYO track and field and scouts are two that spring to mind, but my blog is already littered with these experiences). I learned new things and met new people, but man, there are many hours spent that I would be happy to never repeat again, and a ginormous chunk of that is all the awkward social interaction with the adults (the kids were by and large fine, but there were plenty of those moments, too).

Now that we are moving out of that realm, I'm finding that I have more time to do stuff I want to do.  I have CHOICES. People ask me to do stuff and I can participate or not, whatever works for me. I don't feel compelled to do anything because there will be consequences if I don't.  And dart club has been a spectacular reminder that we are, always, at one time or another, beginners.

It was this thinking that led me to do something I never would have considered this past weekend; one of my friends needed a hand. This friend was on speed dial through elder's elementary and middle school careers.  I honestly thought I would never be able to do anything to repay that.

I realized this weekend that I do in fact have capacity to make good on all that goodness.

If it were as simple as doing one thing, that would be sufficient.  I realized that even though I didn't have any previous experience doing the core thing that was needed, it didn't matter because I had a hell of a lot more expertise that came in unexpectedly handy over the course of the day.

I always wish that people would assume competency of the boys, but maybe I need to assume competency of myself.

And...I think the best thing about this particular moment of life, the ability to say yes to things I really want to do, is that saying yes opens a whole lot of doors I didn't even know existed.

It's good to know that doors can still open. 

It's Been a Month

 Or a year, it's all of a piece...

All I have at the moment are fragments of this and shards of that. My younger kid is making phone calls and doing all kinds of self-advocacy on the regular and my older guy, while he's still a lousy roommate, is finally finished with all the onboarding paperwork for the new job and actively job shadowing. Early feedback is favorable. 

Younger guy is wrapping up all the things of his youth, whether he is consciously doing so or not.  Our conversation on the way to bowling this morning dealt mostly with his immediate future (immediate=rest of this calendar year). He's already dual enrolled at the community college; he'll walk; he'll take classes at said CC and Vo-tech, and hopefully by the time we get to September, he'll be driving himself. 

He was agreeable to that.

Today was the last regular day of bowling, and because he wasn't rolling off for a trophy (his team won last year, so he doesn't care), he rolled a better than usual series--no pressure goes a long way.  He smiled coming off the wood regardless of how he rolled; he high-fived and fist-bumped whenever he had a good roll. He was present in a way that is fairly unusual for him. 

On the way to his job afterward, I asked him what way he wanted me to drive (I already had a route in mind, but was amenable to however he wanted to go).  He chose the route I already had in my head "because it's prettier." (Which is why I had the route in mind).  We chatted about prom plans for next week, then he disappeared into his own head, scripting, and surfaced occasionally if I remembered this or that from some movie or other. I dropped him off at his job in a bright mood.

I'm in a pretty bright mood, too. I spent some time on the upper deck after work hours and had a great blue heron fly over me twice.  This is the first week of the new job, and it's a good fit.  We had fun at darts last night, and I had good aqua fit classes with my friend, and met a couple band moms for dinner earlier in the week. The coming month is already booked with all kinds of adventures.  It's a pretty good moment. 

Ima sit and enjoy it. 

Fitting (Stuff) In

 So a whole bunch of things:

Took G to meet one of his heroes in town; I hate driving into the city, but his euphoria (and the interaction plus cartoon) was more than worth it. 

Same went to get fitted for his tux for the upcoming prom.

Elder is moving forward. Discovered other possible routes he can take, and we'll be working those angles. He and I had some one on one time while younger and dad planted trees for the senior project.

And I discovered pileated woodpeckers in our local woods. Hubby and I went out to visit the nest a couple times yesterday.

Also?  New job, started today.  

Suddenly, there's a lot to do. And we're doing our best to get it all done. 

See you next time....

 Man these last times are hitting hard.

I totally get wanting to be done with stuff.  Anything my kids do that they don't like, they finish with "Well, I never have to do that again."  (And in all honesty, there's been a lot, represented in some form or other in this blog.)

Lately, the memories popping up on my timeline are hard for me to look at. G's final race for education waaaay back in elementary is as present to me in this moment as it was while it was happening.  His standing there waving goodbye as I headed back to my car, then him melting back in with the wave of kids just struck me that this was the first in a long list of goodbyes.

Except, it wasn't.  The lasts stretched long before that moment.  But that moment was the demarcation point.

I feel like every other parent comes to this point in life with sweet relief. With me, it's an appreciation of how I didn't know how good I had it, even in the midst of warring with folks to get and keep my guys included. And I know in some ways the battles ahead are going to be a lot harder.

At younger's last high school performance the other night, I found myself getting all choked up because the instructor had a thank you slide to the audience that began "See you next time...."

This is it for us. In more ways than one. 

I dropped my older guy off for his first day of job shadowing. He looks sharp in his sweater, slacks and sensible shoes. He expressed his nervousness--what if this isn't his thing?

I told him he won't know if he doesn't try, and that he knows the job in some ways better than anyone else. He is in a position to do real good, and effect real change. One person at a time. 

I watched him walk away. He's not the student anymore. 

He's the adult. 

So I say a quiet prayer.

And hope for the best. 

Spring has sprung

 I am grateful for all the signs of spring, from the flowering buds on trees to the night sounds of spring peepers.  Renewal, all signs of it, is GOOD.

So I was just finishing up the last blog when I had to go get younger for his appointment.  My family as a whole sounds incredibly good on paper, but when it comes to reality, we're a little disappointing. 

My guys are both masters at telling folks what they want to hear, then going and doing whatever they think should be done. This has gone in every possible direction, so I don't want to talk it down too much. When they succeed, it's a resounding slam dunk that the whole universe is going to hear.

This is also true when they crash and burn, but the upside to that is that they won't do that particular thing again. 

Anyway, we are sitting in younger's session, and he is waiting for me to talk over him. I am waiting for him to talk. We outline the plan for the next year or so. We talk a little bit about elder's flight path and how his flight path is going to look a little different. And then I mention elder's culminating project and note that G's is coming due soon. 

"Oh," he said. "I did my presentation today."

My jaw dropped. There are a few reasons for this. I was present for elder's, and I had thought I would be there for younger's. I just stare at him. He rolls his eyes theatrically. "MOM. It went fine."

I have no doubt that it did. But this is just another example of the divergence in their paths and a whole 'nother set of road maps and directions to adulthood I need to program into my internal GPS. He just *does* stuff, where I have to light a fire under his brother to do whatever thing. 

Figuring it all out. Mapping out the world. He will get there, wherever 'there' is.....

Ready to Launch?

 We appear to be moving forward.

A few notable things; elder is taking responsibility for his medical concerns. This is kinda huge, since this portion of adulting is daunting to him. He's accustomed to advocating for himself in the classroom and in the workplace; this next-level stuff for him is *real* adulting, thus intimidating. Nevertheless, I sat in the waiting room while he negotiated all his asks and made sure that the most important one (testing for the new job) was completed.

He didn't need me, but he knew I was there if he did. 

Worthy of mention was another scheduling snag that he handled effortlessly with minimal coaching from me ("This is a phone call, not an email."). Also worth noting is that the preferred job is giving him more hours; I think the impending new gig has raised his stock value.

And he starts job shadowing on Friday.

Younger guy is figuring out his what next. I think the conversation with his transition coordinator will involve her connections with the community college (where he is already dual enrolled) and trying his hand at some of the opportunities offered there. 

I just figured something out about elder; he is eligible now to do back-office work in both his part-time jobs, but he doesn't want to. The WHY I just figured out is because he does want to be people-facing. He understands that customer service is tough, so he is particular about where he wants to do it, but he does like people and wants the contact. Which is why I think the new gig will be so good for him, and I think it will help him figure out his next steps. Which might include doing what he's doing for a while, which is actually fine--I want both my kids to land in fulfilling places.  We can't save the world, but we can provide road maps, and maybe in so doing make our little corner of the world better. 

We can hope. 

Home Again

 It's been a week.

We did another state road trip to celebrate elder's employment win, and he had a list of places he wanted to see. As is ever our fashion, we figured out a way to do as many of the things as we could.  Station stops in included:

Dodge City, Harrisburg (met the owner after our meal)

State College

Greenwood Furnace

Whipple Dam

Belleville

Poe Valley

Poe Paddy

Bellefont

Walnut Springs

Bernel Road

Parker Dam

St. Mary's/Elk County (Elk sightings!)

Kinzua Bridge

Kinzua Dam

Allegheny State Forest

Corry

Titusville

Oil City

Beaver

Pittsburgh (and thereabouts)

Latrobe

Flight 93 Memorial

Red Lion

Honestly, I would have preferred to stay at home and get my house in order, but I think the trip was good for everyone.  My friends kept our birds while we were gone (they're hanging out on the floor in front of me right now). It's 4:10 and I don't know where the day went. 

A lot of thoughts:  someone asked hubby if we/the boys/maybe also me came from a facility. This over some confusion over my proffered Access cards.  I was steaming for a hot minute when the woman came over and offered us the difference and an updated receipt and an apology.

Lord, I am quick to go to hot on this. I've written about the whole concept of being put away before, and the idea that we are still here just rubs me the wrong way. In other news, I was on the radio and the subject of a couple pod casts--I've always been kinda out there with my dx, but I'm always mixed about how I feel with my out-there-ness. I wrote once about how out in the world we are US and only at home we have the label. Well, I guess the label follows us, whether we like it or not. 

We.  I think I am the one with the problem.

Elder was kind of salty about the fact we didn't hit everything on his list.  The scorekeeper.  At some point he is going to be doing his own travel and making his own arrangements. 

Younger was just happy to be out and eating out. 

It would have been nice if hubby could have wet a line, but maybe that's something we need to do on our own. 

We met quite a few decent people in our trek. We also saw a fair amount of hate in the form of road signs.  

The struggle to find equilibrium is real. 

Another Last

 Just got back home from indoor champs. 

This is the last one. The last bus ride, the last scramble to get equipment on and off the floor, the last hurrah.

The band was great, did their best show, and left nothing on the floor.  It was their "get on the bus" performance. Even though they didn't finish high in their group, they all knew they did their best. The instructors and the kids had a great time with the photo shoot in front of the MAPS banner--one of the moms took some pictures and shared them with me.  One of them included my son glaring at me from the floor during retreat. 

Earlier in this blog, he gave me a similar look as a cub scout sitting in a police cruiser.  If I had a dollar for every time he threw me shade, I could retire right now. 

He had a good time on the floor out there, though.  I can see it in the pictures, I can hear it in his voice as we talk.

But he's feeling a little nostalgic.

Like, the whole thing didn't suck, after all. 

I *hope* we can get to a place where he can enjoy things in the moment, and not in the rear-view mirror.

My Village

 My friends all 'know a guy."

Doesn't matter  what for--everybody "knows a guy" for whatever needs to get done. I'm dedicating this blog to all the guys--and gals--who have been there to hold my hand in front of the whole world or work quietly behind the scenes on my behalf.

It's a pretty long list, but here are a few.  All are heroes in every day people clothing.

--Elder's first day care director at The First Class in Piscataway, NJ

--Miss R, with whom I go back a good 20 years, who taught me everything I need to know about advocacy

--Miss F, G's first teacher and later trusted friend and contact for all things IEP

--Miss M, who loved younger so much she attended his early intervention IEP meetings and helped me get more much needed services for him

--My favorite IT person who was a fellow dad and was able to fix up whatever difficulties we were experiencing

I think I am going to make it my business to keep and ongoing record as people come to me.  The IT guy was random as I was handling a work thing, and it seems like at least 30 minutes out of every day is spent considering a kind soul who was with us all of a moment, or for a season, or for large chunks of our ride. It's easy to be bitter about things (and people) who didn't happen, but it takes concerted effort to walk in gratitude and peace. You see a lot of both in this blog, and I think I want to tilt to the light. As I've said before, I have more days behind me than in front of me, and I need to get this stuff right. 

My last line today for the people who realize my guys can do things--and let them do the thing without comment or fanfare.

Just like anyone else. 

Enter the Dragon(s)

 We're almost done the mountain of paperwork for elder; we are, as a matter of fact, down to the last form.  Part of me won't believe this is happening until he is installed, lanyard and all, where he is going to be.  I'm not thinking much beyond a couple months; taking it one day at a time, as we do all the things. 

Younger needs his own stuff; and I need to take some time to figure out what he needs--and he will need to help me, as I will help him. He is simpler, yet way more complicated.

We have a lot of conundrum under one roof. 

I'm kvelling though for a minute over elder and his accomplishments. He will walk next month in his graduation ceremony, and he earned a gold tassel and gold cord as part of his regalia--both things eluded me, so I am super psyched for him. I asked him if he wanted to be a student speaker, and he demurred. He wants to blend in, and I can't blame him. 

Part of me can't believe any of this is happening. And the pessimist in me is waiting for something to go sideways. 

On another note (getting to the title of this blog), I was accepted into the rookie program for the Schuykill Dragons. Yay. I think. At the very worst, it's a good opportunity to try something new and meet new people.

Elder is also a dragon. I kinda feel like he is coming into his own. He's even carrying himself differently.  Like I said before, this job situation might be a game changer. And I need to remind myself that at the very worst, it's experience he wouldn't have otherwise. 

So, when you factor younger into the equation (let's not forget he's a high school senior and that has its own measures of change and transition), we are as a family unit embarking on new chapters. If elder's experience has taught me anything at all, none of this is lasting.

They may be grown, but they will always be my children. 

We live in hope. 

Balance

 Man, I struggle with this. 

Do I know what a life is without wild emotional fluctuation? Is it a factor of living a life with disabilities?  (Or different abilities?-- however you want to slice that particular pie--some days, I don't know how to do that, either.)

The hardest part about raising a family--I think-- is differentiation.  What might look good or bad to me might look the opposite to some one else.  I've tried my kids' whole lives to find places for them, because I found finding a place for myself so damn hard. My success here is spotty, at best. Track 11 years ago popped up on my Facebook timeline, where elder finished his first 400.  Oh man. That kid is not a sprinter. What he remembers best is the snacks, and his team at that time. He had a good team. While none of those relationships translated into lasting ones, they showed him kindness at a time when kindness to him was hard to come by. 

Younger in some ways has been trickier; he pretty much put up with whatever we've subjected him to, but when you come up hard against his disinclination, he will in no uncertain terms tell you where you can put whatever expectation you had of him. I struggle hard with the latest thing we're doing--we're almost done the thing, but oddly I am more done with it than he is. I see things one way, and he sees them another.  And my seeing things how I see them makes it hard for me to just see the thing.  He just does the thing, and then goes back to his regularly scheduled ponderings.

Suffice it to say, he has the best self-image of anyone in my house. He does not let how other people treat him affect how he sees himself. For the most part, anyway.

Meanwhile, I struggle with my emotions, because I see him on the outside looking in, and whether he wants to be included or not, I can't divine. Does he legit give zero fucks?  Or is he pretending for my benefit?  I can never tell. 

He slips sometimes. I saw a little of it last night. He let me know I got in his way. And that's fine--I told him he needs to tell me sometimes when I need to step back.  I want to fix all the things. I want to make his way easier. But, he has his own roadmap.  He will let me know if he needs direction. He always does. 

So on the way home, we rolled down the windows and listened for spring peepers.  He was just as excited as I was to hear them. 

So as ever we find grace in small spaces. In small moments.  A life is made in these spaces. 

Off the Deep End

 A lot happening at the moment. 

Dragging elder kicking and screaming through the adult processes involved with onboarding for a grown up job. Unfortunately, there are errors in his documentation that need correction (and I can't believe all the crap we need to correct for this kid. You would think the universe would try to make things a little less complicated for him, but no.)

Fortunately, there are lots of eyes on him, and I have his back. We'll make it work. 

Younger asked someone to the prom. 

I have an offer on the table. 

I am also having a procedure tomorrow. 

And....strange things happen when discrete areas of my life converge. I built firewalls for a reason, and sometimes even they get breached. That's another (exhausting) mess to clean up. I couldn't stop the tears if I wanted to yesterday (yeah, that was pretty obvious from my last post).  Today is a new day, and I am embracing it by helping elder through all his things and taking care of my own stuff. 

Agency.  Sometimes I forget I have that. 

And it's easy to let the stumbling blocks become blockades. I am doing my level best to help elder navigate and keep his cool, but his frustration is palpable when things don't go as planned.  This stuff, the stuff that goes sideways, is the best possible teacher for many reasons, and I am doing my best to practice what I preach.

He's gotten through a ton of things so far, and I am proud of him But we do have a little ways to go yet.

Skidamarinky Dink, skidamarinky do..........

 So, this was a favorite song of younger's, back in preschool. I can hear his voice, see his smile, see him do the motions that go with it, and the memory is melting me into puddle of tears. Because he is so not THAT anymore.

I'm reading about other people's recovery journeys and wondering if I've done enough on mine to protect my boys.

My older guy is rubber. My younger guy has always been more fragile. 

I feel like the universe is forcing me to take a harder look at my younger guy, and I'm having a hard time with what I see.

Just overwhelmed with the thought that my best here was never good enough.

All The Paperwork

 A lighter workweek for elder means digging into the pile of paperwork he needs to complete for the new gig. 

He sat with me in my office and completed all his background checks yesterday.  This morning, we printed out all the paper he needs to fill out, forms, signatures, affadavits, it seems endless. But the important thing is, he's doing it, he's getting through it, and we are down to less than a handful of items.  He needs to set and fulfill a couple more appointments, and then he is ready.

We're hoping he gets to shadow ahead of the new assignment, so he can understand what is expected.

As I sit here and watch my birds quietly chat with one another as they wander around the office floor, I'm amazed at the things that happened in a short period of time. I know we still have a lot to do and have a lot of ground to cover, but at least we seem to be moving forward.

Feeling hopeful.  At the moment. 

Of Mixology and Gowns

 So a friend posted a picture of an extra prom gown on her page. As a mom of two boys and someone who has worn a gown less than a handful of times, why would I even give such a thing a thought, let alone a glance?  I have worn a gown exactly four times: twice to my high school proms, both times my sister's dresses; a bridesmaid gown for the same sister's wedding; and my own wedding gown--and that was almost three decades ago. 

There was also a lot more material to any of those dresses than this one--deep V in front and backless save some criss-cross straps. But....it was also my favorite shade of blue. And....I have a gala coming up. I have worn the same little black dress to the same gala for almost two decades. I bought that dress for $43 and change when Strawbridges was closing down, both boys crawling around the dressing room and making noise while I wrestled my way in and out of that and two other dresses.

So a gown....had possibilties. Also, it's a deep blue, my favorite color. Also? My size. I message the friend who offers to drop it by.  And it's waiting for me in its bag when we pull up after errands yesterday. And I don't lose a minute getting it upstairs and trying it on. Hubby follows, because these moments are few and far between and provide him with infinite amusement. When I finally figure out the straps and wrestle it on, it's clear he is not impressed.

"Go look in G's mirror and see what you think," he tells me diplomatically.

I do and am disappointed. In my head, I'm still the size 4-6 I was into my early 40s, even though my actual extant wardrobe tells me otherwise. I look like someone going 55 in a 20 zone.

Still, I think, and say as I go back to our bedroom to hubby (who was ready with a tissue box), "I can work with this," I tell his skeptical face, "A jacket, something, let me see what I can come up with."

I summon G, who is on his computer, "Wanna go thrifting?"

Is the pope Catholic?

We head over to a place nearby with a crap parking lot and wait a few minutes while someone with a Suburban tries to figure out where to park it.  When we finally settle the car, G goes his way, and I go mine.

First order of business is finding a pair of coup or martini glasses and a mixing glass or a shaker.  As an adult, I know embarrassingly little about mixing drinks, having spent most of my life hiding behind my wine and beer snobbery because that was easier to maintain from a social standpoint. Dart club is teaching me all sorts of new things, especially that everyone is a beginner at some point. I find the glassware and the mixing glass with a strainer and move to my next conquest--something to add dignity to the dress now hanging in my closet.

As always, I won't know what I'm looking for until I find it. Fortunately, I know the numbers I need to hit to fit my wingspan and work my way through the racks. I'm about to give up hope when I see a rack I hadn't seen before--all the formal and higher end wear.  I know I'm going to succeed or fail on this rack, so move through the contents slowly. Most of the items are dresses or suits, but I see a few things that might work.

The first is XSP--which I have never been, not even in my thin days.

The second is SP--a size I could have gotten away with maybe 10 years ago, depending on what it was.

And the last is a solid 12.  With the tags still on. It's a simple white lacework jacket with a modest scoop neckline and hook and eye closures in the front and three quarter sleeves with a little ruffle at the ends. 

I try it on and...it fits. I take a picture of it and send it to hubby. He cautiously approves, since the thing is over a tee-shirt, and he doesn't necessarily see how I can make it work with the gown.

I look for G, who miraculously appears at my elbow and asks if I'm ready to go. We settle and head home. 

Back at home, I race back upstairs, hubby trailing behind, skeptical.  I put the dress on, and add the new jacket.  And his jaw drops.

"That....is elegant," is his observation. And it's clear, this time, he approves.

So if I don't get hit by a bus in the meantime, that is what I'm wearing to the gala.

Probably the last time I will ever wear a gown. And I'll be wearing it at the right speed. :)

There Be Birds

 So now my little corner of the house is semi complete.

The study has been cleared out, but now we deal with the larger clutter issue.  I need to spend a day with elder to sort his room out, and then some similar time with younger.  And hubby and I need to do a divide and conquer on the rest of it. 

We picked up our rescued cockatiels on Sunday. I've already made an emergency trip to the vet because Paulie (the one they told me was 30--is actually closer in reality to 15, but anyway), who is missing half his tail and all of his flight feathers on his right side, looked like he broke a wing when he fell for the 100th time.  ("He falls. He's old," was what I was told. The reality is that someone deprived him of half his tail, so he can't balance OR fly.) When I couldn't get George in the carrier, I decided Paulie and I were going without him....except that the two of them started flock-screaming for each other, so I had to circle back and collect (a much more willing) George.

Long story short, the wing is fine, and I'll bring them both for a well visit next week. I'm glad they are close in age, because when one dies, the other won't be far behind him. I was stressing about George, but I think they will have a few good years with us.  Already they are pretty settled in, but neither of them are Nugget.  George is not hand-trained, and Paulie is downright feral--he goes after my feet if he's walking around on the floor. I don't handle him without covering up first. 

They don't need much.  They are happy to hang out on top of their cage, and when they are out, my door is closed--we decided as a family that they belong in my office. Because I am here all day, it's not a big deal, and they get a lot of time out of the cage to stretch their wings.  I have jazz on the radio, which they seem to like, and they have each other for company.  They tolerate me.  And I enjoy watching them. 

I will not have the same relationship with either of them that I had with Nugget, but I am okay with that. I just wanted to give these guys a good home.  I think it's a good fit all around. 

Good Eats

 I'd be remiss if I didn't include a few lines about my girls weekend with my sister from another mister. 

We get together as often as schedules allow; she's in Southern Maryland and I am a Pennsy gurl, so whenever one of us is traveling, we meet up for a meal, and failing that, we meet up at a quasi equi-distant point for adventures.

These adventures once included epic (read 7-10 mile) hikes and explorations. Always, they include great food. It's really simple; I do a little research and pick where we're eating, and more often than not, I do the ordering, too. Neither of us are ever disappointed.

One exception, and it wasn't really, but I'll get there in a sec--when we were out in western PA to see Fallingwater and Polymath Park (and also the Flight 92 memorial--that was a packed day), we were looking for some place "local" to eat.  After white knuckling the turnpike in sleet coming back from the memorial, I was ready for food....

EXCEPT.  We drove around Uniontown for a good 45 minutes, looking first for an Asian restaurant that was apparently no longer there (and perhaps never was, we will never know), and then for a dive bar that appeared to be in a dead end in a trailer park on Google. When we pulled into a random driveway with nothing remotely looking like a bar in sight, we knew we had to give up the whole idea of "local color."

By this time, we were both raw, annoyed, pissed off and starving. We ended up at the Texas Roadhouse near our hotel and folks, I am here to tell you that there is NOTHING as good as their Roadkill special with a margarita the size of my head. (She took the keys and drove us back to the hotel).

So this go-round, back in January I scanned options and alit on a townhouse suite.  OOOH.  Beds were upstairs with a balcony, and downstairs was a kitchenette and sitting area. 

Generally speaking, we just do a room. Because we don't spend much time in it. 

But....I saw possiblities. Cooking!  I do love to cook; I find it relaxing and it's right there now with darts, sudoku and crosswords in helping my backend processing. Boom.  Booked.

As it happens, the world ended, weatherwise, but we were prepared.  We're both iron chefs in the "we will make whatever we have work" tradition and turned out some stellar dishes with our glass two-burner stove top.  I cooked pad Thai on Friday night and sauteed some shrimp in sesame oil and garlic for spring rolls for Saturday lunch. While the wind howled and snow and sleet fell, we went to the indoor pool and hot tub and spent the afternoon paddling and going back and forth from pool to tub.

Back at the room, we showered, chilled (I took a nap), and K cooked a killer meal of mussels, shrimp and asparagus in butter and garlic over linguini.  OMG. 

Never one to let anything go to waste, I packed up the rest of the sauce to use over lobster ravioli this week. And it was heavenly.

Moral?  Nothing beats good food and good company.

Cleaning Out

 Damn, we did save everything. 

I'm attending to the backlog of stuff that needs to get seen to, one way or another. Happened upon a box of preschool art (among other things) for both boys.

Anything clearly not done by either kid got tossed out of hand.

And there was a pretty fair amount of that. I don't need to hang onto every scrap to remember what either kid has been through. Once upon a time, I couldn't even look at any of this stuff without bursting into tears. There are tears, though standing largely unshed. I just marched a bunch of stuff out. The triage will happen in fits and starts over the next few days as I need time to walk away from screens and try to get our analog lives in order. 

Dinner with friends reminded us both that we are largely unskilled at practical, house stuff, and maybe I need to clear out enough stuff so I can concentrate on learning the things so I can teach the boys.  There's a lot they don't know because we've been too harried/stressed/burned out to teach them ourselves. And I legit can't expect anyone else to do that kind of lift. 

I managed to clear through a bunch of nonpreferred activities this week, and now I'm triaging the next bunch, which includes getting the guy downstairs acclimated to the idea that he needs to be throwing as many irons into the fire as possible and have all the professional accoutrement at the ready for anything. Also means scaffolding for independence and all that it entails.

It also means not conflating my idea of happiness with his.

It also means not bending to his every whim because at some point, he needs to make his own way.

Thinking on some conversations during the week, I had someone do a little Monday morning quarterbacking with me that I've been chewing on. We all know what a disadvantage people with something extra are at: 75% of all people on the autism spectrum are either unemployed or underemployed.  The underemployed are "lucky" that some one has even given them a chance, and it's a good bet that they are paid lower salaries despite however more attentive to the thing they are than their neurotypical counterparts.

Often, there are more hoops to jump through; more disparities, more inequities, because the individual doesn't know any better, and people prey on that kind of ignorance, whether they realize it or not. 

When I look at my older guy and the World of Work, I see many things are much, much more complicated than when I was starting out, and while I have decades of experience, there are things that I am still learning this late in the game.  While I need to teach him to advocate for himself, I also need to educate him on the snares and tripwires that are hidden in a curriculum he was never taught--nor does he have the native knowledge.

Most people don't see this part--all the pregaming that needs to go into the most basic of things for people with differences. It's disheartening and exhausting, but it needs to be done. 

SO.  Be kind. To everyone. You have no idea what people are recovering from. 

....And yet........

 I should be taking a moment right about now. 

• Elder got the (switched out) job
• Younger got his learner's permit
• I pick up my birds (!!) Sunday
• I was accepted into the Rookie program of our local Dragon Boat team

There's a fifth thing that I'm keeping shtum on until it happens; this way, if it doesn't, no harm, no foul.

Hubby set up the dart board in my office, and I cleared it out over the last few days to make way for my feathered friends.  The cleared up space is doing me a hecking delight for my mental state, but now to the business of going through the stuff, which will happen over the next week or so.  Keeping busy will keep the demons at bay, and there is still a lot to do; these things I am grateful for. 

Also am grateful for the sunlight and the birds outside. 

Meanwhile, elder is downstairs in the dark mancave.  I am leaving him to that for right now, since we have a little time to get his paperwork together. 

I think I'd be wise to celebrate these small wins; bad stuff happens whether or not you celebrate the good stuff. And I have plenty of experience with both things.

So yeah. Enjoying the sun, the birds, and warm breezes. Grateful for all the good things. 

On Pause

 A few updates:

So the application for one job became a recommendation for another. While I am not surprised, we're doing a little re-framing and looking to make lemonade from lemons. Since we do this anyway, it's not much of a stretch.

My to do list is a little overwhelming, some grant stuff, some work stuff, some younger stuff, but I will do the best I can with all of it (as per usual). I threw my best darts ever a couple minutes ago--two triple 20s and a triple 18.  The 180 might not be out of my reach, after all. 

I need to do that when I have an audience. I will let you know how that works out for me. 

In addition to the bird applications (I need to clean my room---literally), I floated a request to join a dragon boat squad. I'm not optimistic about my chances, but I'd figured float it and see where it takes me. 

Need to follow up on elder's medical stuff. That will take a number for now. Lots of other things to chase with both kids. Clearing the decks for change. Of course the world could end in the meantime, but at least I have distraction from keeping me from going fetal under my desk and staying there. 

I have good peeps in my life. That's a good place to end this entry. 

Juggling

 So there are a few balls in the air at the moment.  Besides waiting on tenterhooks for the job outcome, I'm awaiting my own offer (which, it occurs to me, I am creating transferrable skills to both kids with my shenanigans), finishing out the last obligations to the grant, helping younger guy navigate his next steps (TBD, even though there's a rough road map), and oh yeah, I'm looking to adopt a pair of cockatiels.

I'm now well into year 2 of Life Without Nugget and decided that I'm safely beyond rebound territory. We tried the provisional quadruped, and younger found that overwhelming to the point where he doesn't go say hi to dogs anymore. He looks, says awww, but doesn't stalk them, which I guess is a good thing. 

I hopped on my local rescue sites and found two gentlemen that may have my name on them. I applied, and now I wait. 

Today I have earmarked time to help elder do some follow up work and get younger to do his learner's permit. I'm also doing some of my own tying up of loose ends.  Hubby is clearing out the study for our next chapter of things. I kind of feel like we are staging for a lot of change.  We've been here before, and sometimes the change is sudden. 

More often, it's slow and imperceptible.  The clearing out exposes what would otherwise be hidden. 

UPDATED TO ADD: Application for job and birds still in play. Yay. We have left nothing on the table. 

Visualization

 I'm of a couple minds on the whole "manifestation" concept.

There is a proponent who think if you dream it, you can be it. You are what you think, if you will. Then you have people like me who catastrophize every damn thing because that's the only way we know to ward off imminent disaster.  I calculate dozens of possible outcomes, and 99% of the time, those calculations come to naught.

I may be conflating things again. I've spent a lifetime picturing things, moments, outcomes--I've forgotten the substance of a vast majority of them, honestly.  But I'm writing because I have a picture in my head--one that could either manifest, or not.

The picture:  elder, in shirtsleeves, maybe a tie, maybe not, slacks, shoes, and a lanyard. Smiling.

This picture rose up in my  mind while I waited outside in the car for him to interview. There's a part of me that thinks I have lost my mind for entertaining such a thing.  And there's another part that is LIVID that this is even a question--why does he not have as much right to do the thing as any other person?

Because of the fucking label, that's why.  It's not like he CAN'T. It's more like people see his difference and can't see past it.

It's more about prejudice.

This is the acid test;  whatever way this goes will tell me exactly what we need to do and where we need to go next.

One mom asked me rather snidely a few years ago whether we were trying to "pass for normal." I was caught up short, but said, "No, we are not." I must have had some look on my face, because she then tried to walk it back.

The reality is this:  he has two jobs he's had for 5 years.  He doesn't need support so much as just knowing who to go to when things go sideways (and really, don't we all, if we're honest?). To coin a phrase, "he can do things."

So for God's sake, let him.