V Day

Today was the sort of day where I repeatedly thought to myself, “This is a great day. A really good day. The kind of day I wish could happen all the time, because NORMAL. And basically successful.”

This was not a vacation day, mind you. I was not at the beach or the pool or in Europe or at a day spa. I did not sleep all day, or go shopping, or read books, or do anything other than the regular and the ordinary. But it felt right, like I had found a rhythm possibly.

I woke early and I went for a walk, where the pearly sky blushed pink, before ebbing into lavender.

When I came home, I stretched on the floor while Jack lounged in the armchair.

I mixed and administered meds.

I made hash browns and eggs which we inhaled on buttery croissants.

I showered.

I started Truman’s bath.

I packed Jack’s lunch.

I prepared Jack’s afternoon meds a second time, because he tossed the first batch in the sink before I could pack it in his backpack.

I listened to some of the war chapters in Alma, which btw are thoroughly Shakespearean.

I printed my syllabi.

I told Jacky to be a good boy when his ride to camp picked him up.

I put pants on the four year old.

I told Charlie that soldiers rolls up their sleeves because they get hot. This was in response to his line of questioning about why soldiers do this to their shirts *Charlie pantomimes rolling up sleeves*

I told the boys to go downstairs and wake up Henry so we could go to the orthodontist.

I did my hair.

Five minutes before go time, Henry was still asleep.

Texting and hollering down the stairs ensued.

We all piled in the car.

Henry got his braces off.

Henry ate a chocolate doughnut and declared eating without braces to be the most amazing thing in the world.

I drove to the site of my university writing classes, which is off-campus at our local high school (long story short, there isn’t enough room on campus for all the people, hence remote learning sites, to which I say, “huzzah for a teeny tiny commute, yippee!”)

I located said classroom, which is a computer lab (yay!) but at which no one was available to tell me how my university students would be able to login to the high school system (boo).

I drove to the university to photocopy my classes’ syllabi.

The department copy machine stopped copying halfway through because I had exceeded my allotted number of copies for the month. I exceeded my allotted number of copies for the month because the university required me to include, verbatim, a whole lot of boilerplate policy stuff, which made my syllabus twice as long.

I begged the administrative assistant for help. She entered her code and finished my copies. I love her.

I drove home and cleaned the kitchen.

I drove Jack to get a cookie. Junior and I got cookies too, obv.

Jeff and I had a belated anniversary date wherein we ate spicy food and then saw a WWII movie.

So while the day wasn’t outwardly phenomenal, it just felt so very manageable.

Even when I showed Charlie the back-to-school postcard his teacher sent him, and he wadded it up into a ball and threw it on the counter and declared he wasn’t going back to school, I still felt fine about all of it. When Charlie smoothed out the wadded up postcard simply so he could rip it into tiny pieces, I swallowed my laughter and told him to drink his meds. And I felt fine.

I felt capable.

There were no Code Browns or angry tongue face today.

The guys were happy, mostly. Except for thinking about back to school.

I was happy.

We were essentially completely functional, in our not entirely normal way.

I felt today that we have fully embraced our oddities. We have reached a point in our family growth where we have immersed ourselves in our differences and emerged like Katie Ledecky.

Me and mine are victors.

Sorry autism, we win.

 

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