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.