Respite

I know that you’ve probably been imagining me spending the past few days swinging happily in my, I mean Jack’s, I mean Alex’s hammock, but I haven’t been. I’ve been too busy to swing. I mean, I did try to spend a few minutes in there today, but I fell out and then once I’d regained my composure and looked around to see if any neighbors were staring out the window at me, Quinn came running out waving the homework paper that I’d abandoned him with and screeching about my needing to help him alphabetize some words.

Honestly, that is a pretty apt slice of life to apply to the larger picture of how things go for me: run in circles —> attempt to hide from children —> pratfall —> found by child —> homework —> screaming.

Repeat.

Mixed in with the spin cycle of day to day existence have been a couple of things of note. One of them was an IEP meeting today, which was pretty monumental. I think I’ll save that story for tomorrow.

Today, I’ll tell you about yesterday. Yesterday was awesome. Jess from A Diary of a Mom and her family were in town because Jess knows people. Like, White House people. She goes to the White House now and again and tells the folks what’s up. I’m really grateful that she does. She’s smart and thoughtful and has a way of representing a lot of diverse voices and ideas while still staying true to her message—which is helping people with autism.

If I were to go to the White House to talk to anyone about autism, it would be like this: security gaffe —> awkward silence —> me trying to sound intelligent but actually sounding like what would happen if Beavis accidentally wandered into the seat of government —> some nodding and inappropriate giggling —> pratfall/injury during exit —> sobbing in my car.

Anywho. Jess and her family came to town for a quick visit and Sunday of Adventures in Extreme Parenthood came to my house and then we drove into DC to hang out with the Diary gang.

See?

I can’t express how much I love them. So, so much.

Sunday and I were both a little bit surprised that we managed to drive all the way into DC and back together without any major snafus because, come on…it’s us. The worst thing that happened was that I parked about an inch away from the car next to me in the tiny parking garage, so Sunday had to shimmy out of the wrong door. Sorry, Sunday.

I have to throw some props at the Elephant & Castle, the place we had lunch. Jess called and asked if they could help accommodate her family, including her beautiful girl with autism who has trouble with crowds. They put us in a scheduled-to-be-closed private room in the back all by ourselves. Nicely done, E&C. I’ll be back.

Speaking of that beautiful girl, Brooke, and her also beautiful sister, Katie (seriously, Jess and her husband make gorgeous kids), we had quite a lovely time with those little charmers. Katie in particular was very welcoming to our other lunch guest.

Katie may have helped Algernon with his art.

You may also notice the phrase “Stimey the verb” there. Much as I would have liked to have cropped that out of the photo never to think about it again, it didn’t work out for me. See, in that household, when you puke, you have just Stimeyed. Yep. I’m a verb. And not the good kind.

I mean, it’s not that it’s totally unwarranted. I  regularly get emails and messages from people telling me their own regurgitation stories—and those of strangers. It’s kind of a theme here in Stimeyland. And there is one particularly dramatic incident etched in Jess’ mind, so I will take my metamorphosis into a verb and wear it with pride.

Frankly, how many of YOU are verbs?

Yeah. That’s what I thought.

It was such a great afternoon. I even roped Sunday into agreeing to participate in a race that I’m going to run in October. I’ll tell you about that soon too. We think Luau (Mr. Jess) should do it too. Although he might/would kick our asses.

So that’s what I have for you from yesterday. I’ve had a lot of scrambling around trying to get my act together lately, so it was really nice to just chill out with some really nice, funny, relaxing people. I want to hang out with these people more often, that is for sure.

19 thoughts on “Respite

  1. Can I tell you hoe incredibly envious I am that you got to spend the day with that amazing crowd? And very, very happy for you, of course. Just a wee little tiny bit green… (No Ethan, STOP, don’t take a bite out of me, I am NOT your Granny Smith apple, despite my color, really.)

    But seriously – really happy for you guys, and so glad Jess gets to go DC and set folks straight.

  2. Three of my favorite bloggers together–in one place?! Cue school girl shriek. Love that you had a great time and got some much-needed respite. That’s important.

    Can’t say that I’ve been verbified..you lucky girl, you.

    Still in awe that you got to see Jess on her historic trip to The White House. Sooo cool.

  3. So awesome that you got to spend the day with DOAM and family.  How I wish I could meet all of you and share some stories including the times I have been stimeyed…..

  4. 1)  Why did you make Jess stand in a hole while you and Sunday stood on stools?  That was inconsiderate.

    2)  That’s a whole lot of blog firepower gathered in one spot. (Even if you did make Jess stand in a hole).

    3)  I was just thinking about some of the first blog posts of yours that I ever commented on.  There was a bear or a squirrel. . . or a squirrel bear drawing or something and I remember laughing.  I was thinking. . . there hasn’t been a lot of artwork in Stimeyland of late.   And then I thought. . . and where the hell is Algernon?  You solved these gripes nicely all in one post.

    4)  4) I forgot what 4) was for and. . . 

    5) 5) 5) 5) For everything everything everything everything. *sings*

  5. Not only are you A verb, you are TWO verbs  – you also declutter by foisting your junk off on other people, as I recall.  IE, you’ve been Stimeyed.  I use it, though usually I’m the only who’s been stimeyed, by my utter inability to refuse anything free, but luckily I have not been stimeyed by Stimey.   

  6. It just now occurred to me that you are “Stimey” and not “Stymie.”  And you’re not named for the golf term. I’m really, really slow.

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