A Cup of Kindness

My dry cleaner retired.

I walked in last week, and felt like someone was "gaslighting" me, because instead of the usual cheerful couple behind the counter, there was an entirely different cheerful couple that is about the same age. And yet there they were doing the same things that My Dry Cleaner and his wife used to do; she working elegantly at the sewing machine, and the gentleman leaping from behind the racks and hangers to greet me and take my dirty things.

I stood agape. Like I was in a bad sitcom, I actually shook my head in disbelief.  Then I tried not to cry as the new proprietor told me again that the previous owners had retired. They were gone. And they had been gone for several weeks, which I believed, because I turned in enough shirts that I clearly had not been there since last month.

I paid for my cleaning, and picked up my slip for the clothes I left behind. They have a new machine that just spits out a receipt after he types in how many items I have. No more asking for my phone number, no more handwritten notes on the flimsy little triplicate pages-which I always lost before I could use them to get my clothes out of hock.

Back in my car, I  laid my head on the steering wheel and unraveled. I cried such big tears that I heaved and got that little shudder the way crying children do when they feel lost, and alone. And maybe that's because that's how I felt, lost and alone.

I had no idea that my simple exchanges with my dry cleaner were so woven into my life. He and his wife had become a touchstone, a grounding point. He always asked how my children were doing, and called my Jenny, when no one else does. He asked about our travel plans for holidays, and remembered where we had been. He bought me coffee once, on a day when the world seemed impossibly sad. He asked about my marriage, my family. He provided counsel and humor, and kindness.

He is a good man, and I will miss having him on my team.

We never know who our allies will be, who will be the people we can count on to listen, or care, or pitch in. One would think that those people who were your friends in college, or maybe the exuberant couples who stood with you at your wedding, maybe they would be be your closest, and most relied upon friends. But some of those relationships fade, or are pulled apart by distance. Even family can't be there at every turn.

And so some friendships come when we don't expect them, people step in as sort of heroes in their own way. A motherly neighbor might be the one who comes to sit on your couch in the middle of the night to watch over of your special needs kid, while you head to the hospital to deliver your second child. It's possible that the wonderful waitress at the corner burger joint, will offer to hold that brand new baby as you struggle into the small bathroom with your other child, the one who has developed a severe sensory aversion to public restrooms and all of their echoiness. And you will accept her help with a dawning revelation that you will never again have enough hands to manage the task of parenting your children alone.

In your weariness you may encounter a small oasis. The woman at the Mediterranean cafe will recognize your tired voice when you call to place an order, and when she sees you pull in to the full parking lot she'll step out the door and bring your food to your window. She'll peer in sweetly at your precious children, and you will thank God that this woman understood how long it would take, and how hard it would be, to safely get your children in and out of the car on that busy street. She will put in an extra piece of baklava for you.

Your dry cleaner will buy you coffee.

If I am lucky, I will continue to find these people as we venture on, and they will fill in, mending the holes in the fabric that make up our life. I will rely on them without knowing it at the time.

I can only hope that I have been gracious enough, thankful enough in the moment, that they do not regret their kindnesses, because I will always be grateful.

A Very Belated Thank You

I am a very grateful person. Every morning, every evening, and many, many times throughout the day I am thankful for my friends and family. When I unlock my door, not only am I thankful that my key works, but that I have a door to open.

When I am standing in the midst of the debris and various body fluids that seem to accompany parenting, and the additional food on the floor that is brought on by a child with disabilities, I am thankful that my children are healthy, and with me. I am so grateful when my husband, who has somehow managed to put up with me for more than 15 years, walks through that door again, and helps me get our life cleaned up, and set up for our next adventure. I say, many, many, times a day to myself: I have a great life--and I actually mean it.

I try to tell the people in my life that I love them, that I need them, and when I find their jokes funny. I almost always write a thank you note.. oh yes... I really do. I write them.

and then they sit.. in a box, or in a pile of unstamped mail, in between the seats of my car. They get lost in the shuffle of my life. They used to get to the people I want to thank. I even used to send cards to people randomly just to let them know that I care.

So, for all of you who are waiting on that thank you card.. for my dearest friends who do too much, and for the gracious hostesses who have served me well, and those that have gifted my children all of the amazing things we have around our house... I'm working on it.

If you get a note in the mail, or on your porch, or in your child's little cubby, and it's dated 2010, or even 2009, please know that I've been thankful for you that whole time. All of those days between you adding joy or brightness to my day, or saving my ass, I am so grateful for you, and for you, and you, and especially you.

I hope you know that.

Give Me A Little Sugar

I went to Jake's school yesterday for the parent group meeting. I love going on his campus.. it is so filled with great people and interesting kids (and adults).. and friendly office staff. Each time I step on that campus I am reminded how lucky I am to have my son at such a great school, and grateful that he is thriving there.

Jake's been having a lot of trouble sleeping lately. I'm not sure if it's growing pains or nightmares or pre-teen angst, but he's been up and out of bed as many as ten times a night. Sometimes I hear his feet patter across the hardwood, other times he whoops and hollers (which his little sister just loooooves.) It doesn't really matter because unless I am really, really sick,  I can hear my children through closed doors with the television blaring... I can hear when a blanket has slipped off the bed leaving a little tushie uncovered. Is this a mom thing? or a skill I have picked up because Jake requires such constant monitoring?

Lately if I hear him all the way out of bed and coming down the hall I will greet him and lead him back to bed. He usually dives back in, but more recently he's been leaping in to bed, then sitting back up and looking right at me, as if he is asking for me to sit with him, or lay down and sing to him, or pet his hair.

He has added a new level of relationship to his repertoire, and with these new developments we are experiencing more snuggling, more hand holding, more gentle swishing the hand across a person's back, and, at school, I saw him lean in for a hug from a peer. Not a class aide, because he is generally pretty friendly with his aides.. but another child in his class! Apparently the boys have mutually decided that they are best buds, and the other little boy hugs Jake and speaks to him in sign language, and Jake laughs and reaches out to hold on to him...and there's smiling, so much smiling!

And Squid and I had a good laugh because she had heard that her son had become best buds with Jake in another classroom. She was surprised to learn that it was our Jake! Our boys are seeking each other out, standing near each other...hugging?

Our nonverbal, English-as-a-native-language in a predominantly Spanish-speaking school (previously), Jake has still had friends, he even had a girlfriend in first grade (the daughter of a class aide fell madly in love with him!), and everyone seems to know he has a good sense of humor. I'm not surprised really, because as not-nice as I think I am, I have managed to collect a lot of wonderful friends, and I don't think there's a person yet who hasn't liked my smart, kind, always-does-the-right-thing, husband.

I didn't know I had a check-box on my "Life List for Jake" that had anything about ensuring he could establish friendships on his own, but of course I did, I think that must be normal, because I know I have it on Lucy's list. Nice to be able to check a few things off now and then

Jack Handy by Jennyalice

Tonight I talked for a very long time with my dear friend DB (Descartes did too.. which is impressive because Descartes probably doesn't even know where the phone hangs up in the house he uses it so infrequently). DB is in a place few of us ever thought she would be. She's probably going down the path to being a "divorcee". Phew. Wow. 

So a whole new chapter of life, and so we talked through what it means to be this "new person". Actually we talked a lot about deciding who exactly we are in this life, any life. I am trying to be the same person wherever I am, with the same moral code, a similar disposition; dynamic but stable. Somehow I want to recognize that I am this person now because of all that I have encountered; the fabric of my life makes me who I am but doesn't dictate my future entirely. I know  I am not going to wake up and be someone new, and neither is she, but I can make changes, make choices.

While we were talking she said please just email me some of these things we've been talking about. They don't encompass our entire conversation, nor is it my new mantra, but here are my "Jack Handy" thoughts for the evening

I am trying to be a woman first who has a husband and children. I need to be me first. I need to figure out what it means to walk a mile in my own shoes. If I do not know who I am  I cannot effectively be much to anyone else, not my spouse or my children. 

I spend time with people I respect and admire. I want to cultivate relationships with those people who have attributes which I want to emulate. I do not waste my time with people or in places that do not add to my heart or spirit. I start fresh every morning. I wash my regrets away at night when I wash my face.

I do my best. 

I choose the right thing whenever I possibly can. 

I love.

Chit Chat

Sometimes in this little Special Needs community I have become a part of, we joke that the "apple doesn't fall far from the tree." Meaning that it is not always surprising to meet the parents of a special needs kid and discover they are just as odd if not more quirky than their child.

I have noticed lately that little Lucy is a rather chatty little girl. She came out ready to go. At 2 hours old she had her eyes wide open and her mouth poised to speak. She has a LOT to say. She says it well, very well even, for a not yet 2.5 year old in big long sentences sometimes. She is remarkable, and people, friends, find it amusing to note that she "talks almost as much as her mother."

That's the other thing about these quirky kids, and more often their parents... we don't aways get social cues. This was one area that I had always thought myself rather savvy, the social cues part, but I am thinking lately that I have really, really, not heard all of the subtle and not so subtle ways people have been letting me know that I talk too much; too much, too often, over people, through people, dominating conversations and dictating when others speak. This trait I had always put on my assets side, the side with thin ankles and a college education, when it's looking more like this trait falls, apparently much more solidly on the side with thinning hair and my inability to remember people's names. I am ashamed.

I have always filled the space. Ask my sister, my dad. It's a family joke right? Actually I think I AM the family joke, and now with a bunch of people I really admire, I am starting to feel that way too.

How does it happen that something I thought was a skill, something I actually liked about myself, has become something that has gotten away from me and has ultimately turned into a flaw? Does this happen to other people? Are there things you thought you were good at that end up being something everyone else hates about you? Something you never thought of as a problem that once it comes to light makes you toss and turn?

We are loathe to label our children because we are afraid it will define them, limit them, make it so it's hard for people to look past their disability. What if they change or develop past that label? Will anyone notice, or will they look at what was decided about them years before and just prejudge them? What about when I am introduced as someone who talks "more than anyone else on the entire planet"? What chance do I have to learn new tricks there? Or will I also disappoint if I am tired and just don't feel like holding up both ends of the conversation? I used to love, love, sharing something funny that happened in my life, but I am realizing that I am so self conscious lately that I almost found myself unable to speak in front of a crowd the other night when I was on a panel. I've been speaking, or singing, in front of audiences since I was in the third grade. It's something I have done hundreds of times and enjoyed every single time without butterflies, and the last several times? well...

It's good to face your flaws. It's good to have people care enough to point them out to you. It gives you a chance to right them. Better now before I'm 40 so maybe I have a chance at the second half of my life of being a little less ego centric and little less selfish. Maybe I can ask more questions. I can hold my tongue and not share my opinion, because Lord knows I have one on every subject. I have already tried the not calling people thing; I don't need to be that phone call that people dread answering.

Although, and I'll be honest, I can have this sick feeling in my stomach and vow every night that tomorrow I will keep my mouth closed, but in the moment.. I don't know how. I don't know how to keep a story inside. I don't know how to give the short response. I don't understand how to keep the phone on the table when I want to share something. I don't know what it's like to walk past other people in the grocery store or on the street and not say hello, or chat with the checker or the person behind me in line. I've been teaching Lucy that we do not stare. I've been teaching that when we make eye contact with someone we say "Hello" or "Good morning" or "How are you?" I've been teaching her because people are going to be staring at my family a lot over her lifetime and I want her to be armed with words so she can make the situation of having a brother with special needs less awkward.. for herself, for others.

Lately I'm feeling like it's just one more thing I am doing wrong in the parenting department because clearly it's not working out for me to have learned to be a "Chatty Kathy".