If I only could

It’s been a complicated week, and it’s going to ramp up quickly into overdrive. I’m excited and nervous.

Monday was Grandparents’ Day at D’s school. As my Mom is the only live and functioning grandparent he has (though her function is unfortunately very minimal), he really wanted her to come. She’s very Edith Bunker about doing things like this alone, so I had to take most of the afternoon off to arrange to take her there. I intended to just hang out in the office while the class did whatever they were doing – I heard there would be a song and an activity – since it wouldn’t be fair to the other kids if someone’s Mom was there and their moms weren’t. But the teacher came to get everyone in the office and told me to come along as well, so I got to see their little performance.

My son is one of the most animated people I know. He’s a natural performer – comedian, actor, dancer. Yet, every time I go to one of these, he looks like he is really not into it and having a miserable time; stony expression and muted movements that make me feel like the guy trying to show folks how great Michigan J. Frog is in that one cartoon. I’ve come to know not to expect any fantastic performances, but I tear up anyway whenever the kids sing. It tugs at my heart strings, the girls with their stringy hair and sparkly shoes, the boys in their sloppy, I-don’t-care t-shirts and glasses too big for their little faces. I adore them. D was his usual muted self. I asked him about it a couple of days later, trying to find out if he has stage fright or what. “I’m just trying really hard to get the words and hand motions right,” he said. This is so much like him. He won’t do something until he can do it perfectly, which has resulted in him being delayed on some developmental things, like crawling, riding a bike, writing. He is really bad at “try” and won’t “do” unless he feels he can do it correctly. I nodded when he told me this, and said I understood, and that he might want to consider that getting it “right” with a performance is giving it your all and being animated and into it; and that, in fact, that’s could be more important than the words or gestures. He didn’t say anything, he just nodded. It’s all ticking away in that little brain of his. If he’s true to type, I imagine he will leap forward with this stuff once he feels more coordinated. He’s always had this streak of perfectionism and I don’t know where he gets it as neither of his parents is like that. We have never emphasized being the best or being perfect or whatever.

Tuesday I had to bring him to the PTA meeting with me, which could have gone better but definitely could have gone worse. Nobody gave me stink eye about it, which is nice, but I must look at the calendar for the remainder of the monthly meetings and try to get the sitter booked in advance. It’s too hard to get him to bed that late after his bed time, he’s cross and tired and crabby and mean. And I spent a lot of the meeting getting up and telling him to go somewhere else with another kid who was there, so they would be banging and jumping and screaming elsewhere instead of next to where the adults were trying to have a meeting. The principal is always at these meetings, so I guess he knows who my kid is now.

Last night, as a gesture of goodwill since he bitched about his night sucking so bad on Tuesday, I bought him a new coloring/activity book and left it on his seat to find when he got in after I picked him up. His Dad gets him presents frequently and he often complains that I don’t have anything special for him in his seat, but I’ve explained repeatedly that you do not get presents just for going to school and behaving like a normal person all day. Life isn’t about getting treats for no reason. But he was stretched beyond his comfort zone and I appreciated him not completely embarrassing me by yelling and throwing a fit at the meeting, so the coloring book. He was pretty pleased, and almost forgot to ask for TV – ALMOST, because he was busy coloring. So dinner and TV and I did the laundry, and then he started to get whiny because he was overtired from less sleep than normal the night before. But it was too early for bed, so I asked if I could color with him in his new book and he surprisingly JUMPED at my request. We colored until bedtime and it was a pretty good evening.

I got all my PT exercises done and a lot of extra lifting. I have a theory that all my lower leg and hamstring problems are tied into muscle weakness in addition to the problems my back issue brings (I have a grade 2 spondy), so I’m once again trying to build up that strength in hopes I can beat this beast of a problem. It won’t hurt, that’s for sure, and gets me off the couch.

Tonight we go to the airport to pick up my date for the wedding. Someone who flies in from out of state just to be your wedding date is a pretty nice person, I’m thinking.

I have a race to run Saturday morning that requires me leaving home at an asshole early hour to complete. It’s a very popular race with a lot of runners – around 800 on average. Then I speed back to town pretty much as soon as it’s over (ok, maybe one shot as a reward for completing, and some early lunch) so I can get ready to go to a friend’s wedding. I will either be very tired or jazzed up from the exercise. Or perhaps one and then the other; we shall see. I am determined to run this race, even though I haven’t run a race since June. This would be the 3rd and my goal for the year is 5, but I’ve been really sidelined with this hamstring injury, which has made even walking difficult at times. I’m a little nervous about it.

I have nothing to wear to this wedding. I ran the laundry basket into my thigh and have a huge bruise on it, so if I wear a dress, I’ll have to wear tights to cover that shit up. Most of my dresses are too big. A couple I got out of storage are too small yet. I’m in-between everything.

I may show up in jeans and a t-shirt.

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