Taco Bell & OxyContin

Erik and I just got back from our respective classes/therapy. I made a little detour through the Taco Bell drive through for some pintos and cheese and a bean burrito on the way home (there is something about Erik's school that makes me want to eat giant amounts of food at 10 a.m.). Erik was not as animated as I had hoped he would be around the other kids but did fairly well and drew a picture for me that resembled a giant plate of blue and green spaghetti noodles. He had fuzzy dots of the same colors on the tips of his fingers. Bev said he had some difficulty getting the caps back on the pens, which made me laugh (inside), as he hardly knows how to operate a pen, let alone put it away. I told her we would work on that. I did wonder out loud if the WS makes it hard for him to see how two pieces of something fit together. My bad mother alarm went off as I realized we have not gotten his crayons or pens out in some time, and, no, the three orange crayons the waitress scooped up off the crumb-sprinkled floor at our craptastic local Denny's don't count.

I realized with horror today at the parents' group that I have not bothered to learn any of the parents' names, although I easily remember their kids' names and conditions. What's even more horrifying is realizing I have employed the technique of remembering them by giving them horrible, sometimes politically incorrect nicknames, like I used to do to people in bars and airports. The only problem is that I will see these people again. I don't do this with a mean spirit or even with any intention whatsoever most of the time. I certainly cannot refer to them as "Marlboro Man" or "Rickets Girl" -- out loud, anyway. I now find myself laughing at their jokes, and they end up speaking to me for most of the 1 1/2 hours we are together. I think it's time to take down the ugly wall around me. Today Rickets Girl offered to e-mail me information on special shoes that fit over orthotics. The pregnant woman I knew from prior sessions (no nickname required) brought in her 2-week-old baby and husband (a good friend of my brother's I have known since kindergarten). The baby was beautiful. Although my chest ached a little bit upon seeing the baby, I had no desire to go out and have another of my own. I felt genuine happiness for them. Of course, it is far easier to feel happiness for them when I know they went through struggles of their own mirroring our own with their first son. Their FISH test was negative, and their son has never been diagnosed with anything but is so similar to Erik in terms of size, eating difficulties, and behavior. The husband admitted having another child was a hard decision for them. She was silent on that subject. I believe some women are naturally bound and determined to have more kids no matter what. I don't really understand that, as that drive seems to be absent in me and was pretty feeble to begin with. Any trace of it that may have been present before the W bomb has long been annihilated. I admit that the possibility of never being a grandparent really bothers me, but I know there is no guarantee that will happen in any situation. Of course, if you have six kids, your chances are better than mine. Oh yes, these are some of the things my brain is processing at the moment. Big fun.

I am feeling somewhat better, although the red-nosed face in the mirror tells me I won't be allowed to play any reindeer games for some time. I tried not to breathe on anything or anyone today and gave Erik some cold medicine before class so he didn't have the pearlescent twin earthworms coming from his nose contaminating everything. Hurl.

Brian had a nasty accident in the driveway yesterday while he was putting some of his gear back in our boat. His foot apparently slipped, and his rib cage smashed against the boat's edge, breaking at least one rib. When he came in the house, his face was paper white, which scared me to death. He slept upstairs in the guest room last night, as I was sick and he was in agonizing pain. He seemed to be doing fine today, but I can tell he still has a lot of pain and will for some time. He's a tough old guy. He has an old bump on his rib cage from a previous fracture and now has a brand new defect in the contour of his chest. They can put a man on the moon, but there is not much they can do medically for broken ribs. I supported his decision to skip the doctor unless his condition changes or he decides he wants to wear a brace.

I know I had more to say today about life in general, but it escapes me for the time being.

xoxox