...9 (in days gone by)...

 In Days Gone By:

6.June.2018

This morning brought to you by autism and a hefty dose of mom-fail:

It started well enough. The usual chorus of alarms, followed by a sleep-deprived trudge to the kitchen to get the coffee started. Breakfast went fine, as did the usual routines...all the way up until we were halfway to the bus stop.

I was a little behind, shifting the weight of his backpack on my shoulder so I could free up an arm. He walked ahead, tugging first at his shirt, then his shorts, then back again. Shirt:down, and to the left. Shorts:up. Shirt: down, and to the right. Shorts:up.

"What's wrong?", I asked. "Nothing.", the retort.

Not one to let things go so easily, I asked again, pointing out his clear physical discomfort. Full stop.

He turned around and declared, with a plaintive whine "It feels too loose....".

Oh, yes. The shorts. The shorts that I begged~pleaded~bribe failed my way into buying him just a week or so ago, despite my warnings that I thought them too large.

The shorts that he wore yesterday and made nary a complaint. The shorts that he insisted fit "FINE!".

The shorts that are just like last years, but bigger, because why consider something different when last years were "FINE".

And here we were, halfway down the drive, with a bus on the way and his shorts ready to drop off.

(How he wore them yesterday, I'll never know. Maybe his breakfast was more filling yesterday. Maybe he rigged them. Maybe it was water weight?!? Ha!)

Halfway down the drive and never once had he bothered to mention that they were loose until...just...now...

I think I sighed.

I must have sighed.

I know I rolled my eyes.

I shrugged off the backpack strap, and dropped it to the ground with the books and the ipad and the notebook and the bag I was carrying.

I told him to put down his tea and RUN!

Back up the drive...back up the steps...oooh, quick grab of the wrist as he tripped up the last two...stop, stay, drop trou! Rushed in and grabbed another pair of shorts, these with an inner tie waist. He waited by the open door, head down, hands covering his underwear from view (of the wildlife???). I held them out...he stepped in...I batted his hands away quickly as I zipped and buttoned and tied. "I can do it", he grumbled. "Yeah, we saw where that got us." I sharply retorted. Then out the door, down the drive, picking up his school supplies and rushing down the rest of the way. A quick photo, as per usual.

The bus turned at the bend, its brakes squealing as the driver slammed down on them to let a doe and her toddler make safe passage from one patch of woods to the other. I looked up, watching as the doe stopped halfway to block her darling from the bus monster. She waited until hooves hit grass before continuing on. I thought, briefly "Yes, momma...I feel you."

And then he tugged my hand.

I looked up...all the way up to 6'4" and he said "You've been a little raowry lately."

The bus shuddered as it picked up steam again. I looked at him...so big and tall...and saw a little boy who needed his Mami to be happy and smiling. A little boy who, every day, goes 'off to battle' at a school full of kids who think it's their job to break him down. A little boy who still needs that extra boost of bravery that only comes from Mami's smile and "I love you...don't worry...there will be hugs waiting when you get home!"

I grabbed him tight...a hug hard enough to say "I'm sorry".

The bus pulled up. The door opened. He climbed the first step, turning back to take the proffered bookbag, books, etc... He gave me a half smile, then turned and disappeared into the bus. The bus driver, as always, smiled and we both shared a cheery "Have a good day!". Then the whoosh and screech of the doors closing...the shudder of the frame as the bus rolled away. I waited, as I always do, waving my arms like a maniac and grinning from ear to ear until it turned the corner. "I love you. Come home safe to me." My daily ritual. My good luck charm. My morning prayer since the tragedy at Sandy Hook.

Then finally I walked back up the drive. Let the cat out of the bathroom (kitty jail for crimes against dishes in the sink!) and checked my phone. A message alert...Google Hangouts...from my boy on his bus.

"I love you Mami!!!!!!! I'm sorry I forgot to tell you that my shorts keep changing sizes!"

"I love you more.", I typed back. "I love you the most! It's ok. I'll sew some elastic on the inside, ok?"

"No, I love you the most plus one!!!!!!!!! When will you be here?"

"Ok. You win...this time!

I'll be there at 10."

Then, silence.

I've got my coffee and a few minutes to catch up.

The music picnics are today, one for each grade. I haven't quite finished packing up all the supplies. Or figured out what to wear.

If the past two years can be relied upon, I'll probably take at least one water balloon to the back of my head...and another to my feet.

Sandals it is.

My co-president and I exchange frantic last minute texts.

"Do we have...Did you get...Are there enough..."

And I stop, in the middle of the morning chaos. I stop. And think, grimly, that he was right. I have been raowry...growly. I've been running on empty and trying to push through. Trying to ignore big emotions that have suddenly reappeared. Trying to squeeze more hours out of the day. Trying to finish up all the work that the end of the school year brings. Trying to cover all the bases...be all the things that all the people need me to be.

"I'm sorry, Bug. I'll do better.", I type to him.

" ",

he sends me back.