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It’s been a great summer with Jonah – he was mostly happy, lovey, and good-natured.  Predictable in the best way, and I swear he grew 6 inches since last year — my height (5’7″) at least, when he’s not in his typical slouch.  He went swimming, enjoyed campus walks at school, and his visits with us were awesome –well, at least from my perspective.

Our summer routine:  my mom and I drive down early every Sunday morning, and as always she stays back at Andy’s apartment while Andy and I pick up Jonah at his residence.  About 80% of the time, he’s already at the door, looking through its window for daddy – because it is daddy he looks for.  Andy picks Jonah up for visits a few times a week, and Jonah adores his father.  So as soon as we enter the code and open the door, Jonah walks out immediately.  I don’t take any of this personally.  Whenever I’m not there, he asks for mama, and I know he loves me too.  It’s all just part of how he rolls.

Usually Andy takes Boo to the car while I stay back to sign him out, talk to the caregiver staff, gather his coat or other items, and grab his meds for the day.  When I return to the car Andy’s just putting Jonah in his harness and getting him settled in the back seat behind mama.

Jonah asks for radio and if the song is not what he wants he’ll say other radio – and if it’s not loud enough, he’ll say on which is his way of asking us to turn it up. On! he’ll repeat until it’s either loud enough for his satisfaction or as loud as we’ll let him have it.  Then we drive to either Dunkin’ Donuts or Stewart’s and procure a jelly or chocolate donut, based on Jonah’s caprice.   We head back to the apartment as Jonah eats his treat.  I hand him a wipe and he cleans his own hands and face, then hands the wipe back to me.  Sometimes he asks for kiss hand and gladly I oblige.

At the apartment he confirms Grandma is there and will sometimes acknowledge her, usually accepting a hug or kiss, then heading for the fridge.

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There he pulls out random things he thinks he wants and we help set him up with the burger and fries grandma always brings.  Sometimes he asks for Jungle Book or Oompa Oompa,  his attention span varying in length but always longer than it used to be.  Sometimes he asks for train on computer and wants to choose his own videos, on as loud a volume we’ll allow.  He still, on occasion, enjoys his bathtub brunch.

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Always after these activities and sometimes in lieu of them, he disappears into Andy’s bedroom to get in and under the covers.  I ask “can mama lie with you?” and he always says yes.  So I take off my shoes, make sure his are off, and get in with him.  Usually he giggles: “And the boobie,” he says softly, turning to try to reach down my shirt.  I gently move his arm and he giggles again but stays still.  And after only one redirection, lately, he keeps his hands to himself, turns away from me, and pulls both covers and pillow over his head; I curl into him and rub his shoulders or scratch his back.  Usually we both fall asleep for an hour or so like this.

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I sometimes hear my mother and Andy talking.  They argue politics or talk about Boo.  Andy got rid of TV and my mom can’t have her Fox News anymore, so she reads a newspaper or book.

Like I said, visits this summer were awesome for me.  Andy doesn’t mind if I take a nap with Boo, but poor grandma is left to her own devices.  “Lie down with us,” I tell her, and she could, but she doesn’t want to.  Stretched out on the bed, you can see just how long and lanky he’s gotten.

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Sometimes my mom gets sad about Jonah napping during visits, but I remind her it’s a hell of a lot better than the stretch of time when Jonah refused to get out of the car at all – or, worse, when he was attacking us left and right.  At least he comes in the apartment, even if it’s only to nosh and nap.  It’s more than good enough for me.  My mom is getting older, though, and she tires easily.  It’s a lot for her to drive down.  Lately I’ve been doing the driving, both ways, in her car.  And if I can’t visit for whatever the reason, she hasn’t been going either.

It’s hard on her, and on my dad too, I’m sure.  Jonah’s the only grandchild they’ve got, and they’re surrounded by friends, family –everyone, really, all talking about their grandchildren.  Photos and stories of them at the beach, in a play, on vacation, at graduation.  My parents wanted that too.  They love Jonah very much but I’m sure they grieve the grandchild(ren) they never had.

Because Jonah is 15 now, we’re starting the process of transitioning him to an adult program. He can stay at Anderson until he is 21, but before that we need to identify the best, most appropriate housing for Jonah.  So I went to a required Front Door orientation about a month ago.  Mostly they talked about very basic stuff – what it means to be eligible, how to prove eligibility, how to access services – things we plugged into years ago.  Because it’s an adult service, though, some of the details will change.  Instead of an Individualized Educational Plan (IEP), for example, he’ll have an Individualized Service Plan (ISP).

And so here we go.  So far Andy and I have only decided that we will choose the best place we can, whether it’s near Albany where he once lived with us, near Rhinebeck where he lives now, or somewhere in between.  Aside from that, we’ll cross bridges and make decisions as we come to them.  It’s a 6-year transition for a reason; the system operates slowly, lists are long, and Jonah may change and grow beyond what we anticipate.  If we had to make such a decision today, it might be very different from one we’d make 6 years from now.  I guess we need to decipher the most likely trajectory and go from there.  We really are at the very beginning of the whole process.

To be honest, I don’t like thinking about it.  It would be easy to worry, to waste time imagining scenarios and outcomes, but what good would it do?  Best to educate ourselves about options and forge ahead.

But here comes Halloween time, and for the past two years this has meant Jonah’s behaviors get worse and he becomes very aggressive.  Last year he was so violent, he spent Halloween in the hospital.  And sure enough, it seems we’re in for it again.  Andy says not to worry, that Jonah continues to be good for him and on our visits, and he’s right.  But last week I got the dreaded email, on three different occasions, detailing dates and times during which Jonah needed take-down interventions.

I can’t even muster the hope that it won’t be another season of helplessness in the face of whatever’s making Jonah’s pendulum swing yet again.  I have to wonder if he has Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). He does have crying jags now and again that seem to have no cause.  I think I have SAD too, or maybe it’s just a reaction to Boo’s uptick in behaviors, but either way I face depression in the fall and winter.

My solution this year is to schedule more things with friends and force myself out of the house.  Almost always I end up enjoying myself, and getting out is healthier for my head.  It’s way too easy for me to “hermitize,” as I call it, staying inside virtually all the time unless I go to work or visit Boo.  Amazon.com and grocery delivery make it that much easier to stay in.  It’s no good for me to sit and dwell or go numb and listless.

As a result, I’ve spent more time recently with my sister Barbara (it still feels so strange to say my sister) or my friends.  I went to a beautiful mountain Oktoberfest with an old college roommate, drove over to friend KP’s house for food & a fire, that kind of thing.  It isn’t easy, honestly, when home feels so comfortable and the world seems full of obstacles and assholes.  This Saturday night I’m even joining a bunch of friends on an evening Halloween cruise with dinner and dancing (dear God and little baby Jason help me).  I’m going to fight this SAD if it kills me, both on my own behalf and on Jonah’s too.  I’ve been talking with his doctor and behavioral staff and they are raising his dose of Prozac a bit.  We want Boo to be happy.

I’m bracing for the storm that might blast us for a third year, but also embracing the good days, and feeling very grateful for every last one we get.

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There’s more to tell and it would be easier if I’d write here more regularly, so I’ll work on that too.  I just found more siblings – a younger half-brother and sister on my birth father’s side.  They didn’t know I existed, which is a whole lot different from finding my birth mother’s daughter, Barbara, who had been looking for me my whole life.

My new brother and sister both seem interested in at least emailing, which is more than I’d expected.   Given the situation, I won’t mention names or post pics.  I was born just days after our father married their mother, which doesn’t sound very good.  The last thing I want is to cause a rift in their parents’ long and happy marriage, so I’m going to let my new siblings decide how to handle what must be very shocking news.

Who’d have thought this only child would end up with so many sisters and brothers?  I wonder if there could be more even I don’t know.  Life throws curve balls.  I’m as ready for them as I could be, I reckon.

Here’s to a happy Halloween for Boo, and all of you!  I’ll keep you posted on that storm, if it lands…

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ascension

I’m not sure why this video is so huge and I’m not able to shrink it without researching more, but for now I want to share an update about Jonah, and this video is the best way to show so many things…

…like coming inside Andy’s apartment again on our visits, often straight from Anderson with not even one loop first – to rummage through the cabinets and refrigerator for food, asking for one thing after the next…

…and sitting down on the floor in the living room with his fidget cube to watch Disney’s original Jungle Book, his current favorite movie.  With an attention span, quiet hands, calm body, and a happy face.  It’s been a great few months for him.

And afterwards, to take my hand and ask “tickle?” – which means he wants mama to lie down with him on Andy’s big blue bed.  And so we do, he bounding onto the bed, scrambling under the covers.  “Blanket?” he asks as I settle next to him.  And so I stretch both blanket and sheet up to his neck, and he pulls a pillow to cover his head, and he turns to face me so I can just barely see him smiling beneath the pillow.  Then he says “scratch?” and I massage and scratch his shoulders and back.  He sometimes giggles, but usually calms quickly and often even falls asleep.

This is my new favorite time with Boo, for I haven’t been able to lie next to him like this in nearly 6 years, and it is precious to me.  I feel comfortable and safe in his presence again; he hasn’t aggressed toward me in what seems like a year.  I’m not here to declare he’ll never do it again, for he’s still got his bad days and the occasional take-down and school or in his residence.  For the most part, though, it’s an ascension – from him demanding car ride after car ride, refusing to go into Andy’s apartment, attacking us in the car, all of it.

The months have stretched out quickly and I haven’t meant to let the blog go like this.  No news here is usually good news, but I’ll always come back with an update.  I’ve got more to say about my birth family, particularly my new big sister, who is 9 years older than me and just like me in so many weird ways.  We even dress alike.  I’m so grateful I found her!

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And of course, new pics of Boo:

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Happy Summertime, my peeps!  We’ll be back…

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And so the child who once wouldn’t wear a hat or a hood or a cap, no matter what the circumstance, is now the teenager who wears his hood up and tied securely around his face.  I have several photos of him, several weeks in a row, sitting in the back on car ride (he hasn’t been coming in to Andy’s apartment for his visits lately).  In each photo he’s got the blue coat on with its hood up.  Last Sunday while parked in Andy’s driveway, Jonah declared blue shirt on?  – so Andy went inside and changed into one of many blue shirts he keeps in a special place for just such a request.  Thus appropriately garbed, he got back in the car and prepared for another ride.

My mother, who stays back at the apartment for these rides, visits Jonah in the car when we come back and park after each loop.  Nearly always she has a cheeseburger and fries, and this week she’d brought him 4 Thin Mint Girl Scout cookies as well.  Jonah has been happy, silly, all smiles and loving his rides, rocking in his seat to hip-hop and Top 40, wanting it as loud as we’ll allow.  On?  On?!  (It means louder, please in Jonahspeak). There is a CD of dance music I made for him more than ten years ago now, and he asks for it by requesting Mama CD?  Week after week, once this particular CD is in, he requests 3 specific numbers of song tracks and then says all done mama CD.

This time, however, we pulled into the driveway during the 3rd song – and, distracted by grandma and cheeseburger, Jonah wasn’t on top of his DJ game so the CD continued to play.  I didn’t know he could even see the track numbers on the dashboard CD display, but when Andy got back in the car for a second loop, Jonah piped up: 13?  

Andy went to track 13, the song Funkytown came on, and Jonah wanted it louder right away:  On?  When it was over he said 13? again.  And again, and then once more, before deciding he’d had enough talkin’ bout moo-ooo-vin’ and wanted some radio.  Last weekend I was fighting off a migraine and had to cut my visit one loop short because I couldn’t take another song.

Hopefully, with the coming of the springtime we’ll get him out of the car and into the apartment or over to the park, even.  For now we’re all just collectively grateful he’s been good.  His move to the new residence seems to have coincided with the good, though I hate to play the cause and effect game, as it proves faulty at least some of the time.

Grateful are we, as always, to the caregivers at his residence and school.  Last week I walked down to the Capitol and joined hundreds of other parents, care workers, and clients for the Be Fair to Direct Care rally.  We are asking Governor Cuomo to include at least 45 million dollars in the budget for an increase in pay for direct care workers throughout New York State.  Anderson parents were asked to bring a photo of our child, so I came with Jonah’s picture and cheered with the others when the Governor himself, in a rare personal appearance, came out to address the crowd and promise he wouldn’t sign the budget without the requested money in it.

Direct care workers deserve fair pay – excellent pay, even – for they protect, feed, clean, play with, and comfort our kids.  They deal with all manner of random issues working with them – things that are frightening, or gross, or just plain exhausting.

I was proud and honored to be a part of this effort on their behalf.

P.S.  Yes, I changed the name of the blog.  It feels right to do it now, and I like it better.  Until next time…

Jonah and I say thank you to all caregivers everywhere – and Happy Spring to you all!

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Jonah’s 15th birthday was Tuesday, March 7th.  He did really well at school – they had a little party for him, he had a big ice cream cake at his residence, and in general he’s been better behaviorally again.  I’ve been depressed, and off-the-charts anxious, and am figuring out new doctors and medications – hence my infrequent blog posts.  I don’t want to complain and rave about myself but I’ve been isolating from people and sleeping too much, struggling to wait for the springtime, hoping it brings me peace with its sunshine and warmth.  I am grateful I have a good job working for an organization that helps empower disabled people, which is kind of perfect for me.

One thing Andy and I have to do now is begin the process of identifying our hopes and goals for Jonah’s future, including adult placement options.  It’s overwhelming to consider – seems every time I get accustomed to one part of this journey, another comes along and sweeps the rug right from under my already unsteady legs.  I have a name and number to call and get us started.  They recommend beginning the process at age 15, even though individuals at the Anderson Center for Autism do not “age out” until they turn 21.  There’s a lot to it – we need to get things in place with social services, disability, ensuring we have guardianship, setting up a special needs trust, and more.  And under this new administration I feel Jonah is less protected, his services jeopardized.

I hope I’m wrong.

I’ll be back as I can with updates, and photos, and to share more than I am able to lately.

Happy Birthday, Boo!

 

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For a while I was a mother, the way other mothers are.

For nine and a half years.  I remember it.

I remember watching Jonah sleep, changing his diapers, helping him get ready for school, taking him to the park and home for dinner.  There were birthday parties here with family gatherings in our finished basement.  We played in the baby pool and Andy took us sledding.   I also remember how hard it was, how fucking frightening and relentlessly backbreaking our days became toward the end – and I sit here grateful for the stillness in which to type these words, I do.

But at the same time I feel a vicious, raging kind of helpless. When I get home from visiting my son, I’m angry.  I want to scream and moan and rave.  I slam my vacuum around the house, cleaning things just to feel some control over my environment.

There are things to say but I don’t want to say them, so I stay off the blog.  I don’t have any funny or engaging stories.   And when I read over these blog entries I make myself sick with all the whining and the wretchedness.  I wish I had better news, some anecdote to share.  I only have what I have, and I can only feel how it feels.

Things were looking pretty good on October 1 – they made Jonah Student of the Month, even, and his name and photo were on display in the front of the school.  I took a picture of the display case when I visited on Open House day, but I can’t find it now.  The school sent a certificate and a letter about how well he had been doing.  It was all really encouraging and cool.

They forgot to knock on wood when they said it, though, because it’s been all downhill from there.

Our visits with Jonah are worse.  I used to complain – recently, even – when he’d come running into Andy’s apartment and then just stand in front of the refrigerator, asking for whatever he felt like eating and scarfing it down before next asking for car ride.  Now car ride is all there is, and by that I mean we pick Jonah up at his residence and he says “no apahmen” and “no lunch” – and while my mom waits behind with whatever food she’s brought us for lunch, we drive the same loop over and over.

The best we can do to facilitate some sort of visit with my mother is to stop back at the apartment after every loop and try to bribe Boo to come inside.  Not bath nor Burger King is temptation enough – and forcing him would mean a huge aggression episode the likes of which none of us are willing to cause or endure.  And so we pause in the driveway and my mother comes out.  Sometimes Jonah will put the window down and we will prompt him to wave or say “Hi, Grandma” or parrot back whatever script we want my mother to hear.  Wish she could hear.  Thank you, grandma.  Thank you for ritually packing us all fresh sandwiches, chips and drinks every week.  Thank you for picking up mama to drive an hour and a half each way to sit in an empty apartment, visiting with me through a car window for a minute or two, because you love me so much you’ll do whatever you have to just to see me, hoping I’ll be happy or will want a kiss.

On Thanksgiving, Andy drove Jonah up to my mom’s house, just like he’s done every year for the past 6 Thanksgivings since Jonah’s been at Anderson.  Always Jonah loves grandma’s house.  He jumps out of the car and runs in, bursting through the door to pace around and survey his surroundings.

But not this year.  Even after that long car ride up here, he wouldn’t get out of the car.  My father arrived just as I was getting into Andy’s car to take Jonah for a ride to see train.  We called out the window that we’d be back, and my dad went inside to wait for us.  Jonah smiled, a big smile, when two trains came by, once we got to the Voorheesville tracks – but when we drove back to the house, Jonah still refused to come inside.  No grandma.  More car ride.  Awkwardly we all stood in the driveway, my father, my mother, and me – speaking to Jonah in turns and making sure Andy had all his Thanksgiving food my mother had prepared in Tupperware containers.

Andy and Jonah drove away, and my parents and I went back inside.  My mother and father tried valiantly to keep some conversation and normalcy in the day,  but I just sat there silent and crying, the tears coming against my will, hot and unchecked.  After just a short while I apologized and told them I couldn’t do it, I had to leave.  I drove home to eat my own portion of yummy Thanksgiving food and then, exhausted and sad, crawled into bed.

My mom and I didn’t drive down to see Boo again until today.  Again, Jonah just wanted car ride – only this time he got really sad and started crying as well – huge, gasping sobs.  I turned in my seat, gave him a clean blue t-shirt rag for his face, and held his hand in mine.  He didn’t resist.  He felt along the length of my hand with both of his, grasping my fingers, crying in earnest.

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I asked him to tell me what was wrong.  I asked him several times, in all different ways, hoping he’d offer a clue.  Was he in pain?  He never tells us when he is hurting, but he’d just had yet another laser operation a few days ago, to alleviate the pressure in his left eye.  It shouldn’t be hurting him today.  And he seemed fine when he first came out of his residence on the campus.

And so he wept, and I just held his hand.  Andy played some of his favorite music, and eventually Jonah calmed down enough to gently push my hand away and request Tom Pah-dee (Tom Petty), Public Enemy, and Prince, in that order.

After three trips and visits back to the apartment where grandma came out and said hello, I finally got out of the car, kissed Boo, and waved goodbye.  My mom and I drove home, mostly in silence, feeling how completely surreal can fill a car like heavy smoke.

What more can be taken away? Even as I ask myself the question I hear the answer. What if, one day, Jonah refuses to leave his residence for our visit?  What then?  They don’t allow visiting in the houses.  There’s a visitor’s center on campus with mock apartment set-ups that seem really nice – but Jonah’s never wanted to go there.  We tried it once and it was a disaster.  And anyway, even when he was going to the park or down to the dock, he still wanted his car ride and to get off campus first.  Can we visit him on one of the campus playgrounds?

Tomorrow I talk to the school district about the possibility of Jonah attending the Kennedy Krieger Institute for their short-term impatient program.  And I probably will call Jonah’s caseworker, too, about how home visits have been deteriorating.

Maybe they will have some ideas.  Me, I’m fresh out.  And done writing about it, for now.  If I do not post again before Christmas, I wish you all happy and blessed holidays, filled with joy and hope.

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On Tuesday, Jonah was taken back to the hospital, this time not only because of severe behaviors but also because he seemed to be struggling to poop and he looked pale and acted really lethargic.  When they called me, I decided to drive down.  I left work around 11am and when I got to the hospital in Poughkeepsie, Jonah was asleep under the covers with a pillow over his head.  All I could see of him were his sneakers, still on his feet, at the bottom of the bed.  He has three teachers in his classroom of 5, and one of them was there with him.

They had taken an x-ray of Jonah’s tummy and found impacted poop, so they woke him up and we coaxed him into drinking a seltzer-like laxative.  He was all sweaty from lying in his clothing under the covers and he looked at me in amazement.  “Car ride,” he croaked, more a statement than a question.  His teacher was awesome with him, helping to keep him calm and telling me how loved Jonah was at Anderson.  “I’m not just telling you that because you’re his mother,” he assured me.  Poor Boo was bored and confused, but after another hour or so he finally pooped and they let him go back to the residence.  I drove home in a daze.  Before I reached the house my car started to shake.  I couldn’t get the hood open to look at it, so I dropped it off at the shop.  Turns out they had to break it open to get in the car.  It was some crappy icing on my shitty cake.

Yesterday his main classroom teacher e-mailed me and was so kind.  She asked what she could do to help and if I had any questions, and she said Jonah had a good morning (and included two pictures to show me).  I am appreciative.  I am grateful.  I love that Jonah has teachers, specialists, therapists, direct care providers, and other workers who watch over him with such compassion and caring.  Were it not for all of them I could not do this at all.

Got the car back last night, and this morning Anderson held a meeting about Jonah with his behavioral specialist, his psych doctor, teachers, and nurse.  They called me to join the meeting and told me he was on his way back to the hospital for another psych evaluation after 12+ severe aggression incidents this morning.  And so this is hospital visit #3 since Monday, and it’s beginning to feel an awful lot like this time last year.

This doctor is a new one, and she asked me if I thought Jonah might be bi-polar.  “I tend to think there’s a co-morbidity with something,” I answered, “whether it be mental illness or seizure activity.  Something is going on.  There is never an antecedent.  You’ve charted every possible thing from bowel movements to times he eats and sleeps, for five years straight. There is no discernible pattern. ”

Her answer, as it has been before, is to raise his level of medication (Clozaril) while adding a prn of Klonopin  (as needed).  She suggested the possibility of adding Lithium, but doesn’t want to do that right away.

I have read (and I really appreciate) all your comments and well wishes.  I will try to come back to FB and re-join the Extreme Parents group so I can gather info and exchange ideas with other parents who’ve had experience with Kennedy Krieger and severe autism with aggression.  Andy and I are working through disagreements about what to do here.  Sending Jonah to KK would be a huge thing.  Just the thought of transporting him there is a seemingly insurmountable obstacle.  We want to make sure we are doing what is best for Jonah, both in the short and the long run.

I don’t want to go through what we did last year again. But it looks like that’s what’s fucking happening and once again we find ourselves in the frustrating position of having exhausted all ideas and resources.

When I reach out to the “experts” I find and they start asking me things like “What are the specific behaviors and when do they most likely occur?” I want to bang my head against the wall – not because I do not appreciate the attempt to help us but because people never get how far beyond the beyond we are at this point – how we are breaking new ground with this child and his behavioral (and physical) health.

How we’ve already tried that.  And yes, we’ve already looked at that.  And then there is silence, because nobody can chart us a path through this kind of journey, once they realize we truly are in a territory they have neither seen nor can understand.

We have to do it ourselves, and it’s scaring me to death.

I have been going to work and coming home and going to bed.  It’s like I’m a device on low battery that you’ve got to use as little as possible to preserve its life.  I am angry and I feel helpless.  I’m shaky and sad and frustrated and pissy.  I’ve been depressed lately anyway – I usually am this time of year – and I’ve thought that Jonah’s behavioral crises at the same time last year and this year might be something seasonal.  But mostly I’m staving off panic, a deep and unwavering fear.  There is no afraid of.  There is only the being afraid and the trying not to be afraid.

A waking life of fighting the fear, and a grateful yielding to sleep.

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the blue shirt rag

Yesterday Jonah played the blue shirt rag; that is to say he blubbered into two rags, one after another, both made from Andy’s blue t-shirts irreparably torn in an aggression.   There are plenty of t-shirt rags as Andy has sacrificed many, many shirts in Jonah’s attempt to turn them, one by one, into Incredible Hulk Halloween costumes.

And Jonah nearly often requests Andy change his shirt.  “Blue shirt?” he demand-requests, leading his father to the bedroom dresser t-shirt drawer and rummaging through to find something blue.  Always he wants daddy in a blue t-shirt, never any other color – though what passes for blue, some days, is more like grey or faded green.  Daddy only has so many shirts to destroy, and only so many of those are blue.

As a result, poor Andy gets a lot of t-shirts for his birthday (coming up soon!) and Christmas and Father’s Day, all destined to be worn and ripped in relatively short order.

So yesterday, yeah.  The blue shirt rag.   In what I considered a behavioral triumph, Jonah worked himself into a frenzy on his car ride, crying out “no school tomoww-ow!” over and over until he was a slobbery snotty mess.

Andy pulled over quietly and handed him blue rag one while I filmed a bit of the scene.  I call it a behavioral triumph because Boo only kicked twice, and half-heartedly at that, before indulging in a crying jag instead.  Poor kid.  But he worked it out, God bless him, despite a great mess of snot and tears.  Andy and I mostly sat quietly, waiting, until there were long enough pauses between the wails to insert a calming word or two.

After deeming blue rag one full to capacity, Andy whisked it away, handing Jonah blue rag two. 

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So emo.

“Here,” he says, making as if to hand me blue rag one.  I stare at the goobery glob of it and we laugh.  Jonah gets his shit together in the back seat with blue rag two and Andy tosses blue rag one to the floor. 

After this Jonah is fine, as if he needed to purge the sad, sad notion of school tomorrow before getting on with his day.  After all, who among us can truly say they have not ever dreaded school tomorrow?

Thank you, peeps, for the rallying cries that leave me strengthened and fortified.  Like Wheaties.  And O, Harlow, how you do go on.  I hear you.  Who’ll stop the rain indeed?

I appreciate it all.

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