Egg Timer

Don't we all marinate on certain things?
Ideas, decisions, dialogues, stories, relationships...

Inside of each of us there is an egg timer just waiting to ding, so that we can come to a conclusion, experience that ah-ha moment.

Add to that concept the next reality - which of us is only thinking through one thing at a time?

We have a myriad of items "on the back burner," staying warm as it were, so that it is ready to serve at the precise moment we need it. Oh, it is like a matrix of egg timers in a corner of our minds.

Ding!

(Excuse me, I need to evaluate what has been on my mind and is now ready to implement on some level in my life.)

The Next Morning

"I don't really do awkward morning afters," I told him as we spooned in his super-soft (I was definitely going to have a sore back kind of soft) bed.

"Do you think this is awkward?" There was a touch of insult, maybe concern in his voice.

"No. Not at all. I'm just saying so you know what to expect from me."

The fact that he held me a little tighter was unmistakable; neither was his contented sigh as he did so. I really wanted to say that I had never had a "morning after" to speak of, and so my declaration was really a newly established self-proclamation as well. But he didn't need to know that. And it would lead into one of those drab, stereotypical conversations where the girl goes - in a high pitched voice with doe eyes - "I've never done anything like this before!" I was not interested in going there; or devaluing what I had chosen with a bunch of blah-blah talk.

We continued to lay there, happily drowsy and still-spent from the night before; and definitely ignoring the fact that it was a Tuesday morning. I was delighting in the fact that he could balance such a voracious sexual appetite with the ability to cuddle. He held me in the I-love-to-be-near-you way of things and my heart was lapping it up, knowing that it had an expiration date.

Out of nowhere he goes, "Hey! You were wearing pretty panties last night!"

"My mom told me to always wear pretty undies to a birthday party," I giggled. I could feel his mind waking up as he continued to think aloud. His deep voice betrayed a dawning. And I could tell that it bothered him a little that he was behind on the take, but he didn't seem upset about it. I'd say that he was amused by an unexpected and happy surprise.

"Those were very pretty undies."

"Yes, they were. Thanks for noticing. I wasn't sure that you had a chance before you flung them across the room."

A deep, extremely contented chuckle answered me.

"And you packed an overnight bag."

"I did."

"How much of this do you plan? Some of it? All of it?" His tone was incredulous. As if, in the year we had known each other, he would never have believed such a thing possible from me. To his credit, not a lot of people would have. I don't really have that kind of reputation. Remember: I don't have morning afters to speak of, right?

I played it off. I knew that he wasn't angry. I knew that we'd chose the same thing again (and again; and again).

"Now, why the hell would I tell you?"

I answered back in my best sexy-snarky, "morning after" voice. He nipped the back of my neck and drew my body closer to his. I twisted so that I could face him and look into his happy eyes. I'd let him think whatever he'd like to keep that imagination juice flowing. I was okay with that. The truth is I hadn't planned anything. I had thought through different scenarios and prepared for different outcomes; but I couldn't have planned this. I had only hoped for it.

A Trip to the Beach

First, it should be explained that, in general, he and I didn't (and still don't) communicate well. Even now, after it is all done, I can't exactly put my finger on why. But there you have it - when things were great, when we were still "together," we were preteen-awkward at getting our points across to each other. There weren't too many complaints beyond that issue, but, well, that's a pretty big issue...

Secondly, you need to know that he and I work together.
And, yes, I know what you are thinking, "relationships in the work environment never have a good chance." I know, I know. And there are all sorts of good stories surrounding that detail, but I'll save that for another blog.

It was Wednesday. The day that we were moving our office from one location to another. And ironically, we were moving from one upstairs office suite to another upstairs office suite. I think my Boss wanted to hint at a health initiative, but I think that the ridiculous amounts of pizza that were delivered to the new office location more than probably compensated for any calories lost hauling down-then-up-again all the boxes, computer equipment and furniture.

I didn't have the kid on this particular evening. His dad had taken him to spend the week with his grandparents in Eastern, NC. I missed him, but with the packing and hauling drama aplenty at the office, I was pretty much tapped. I knew that a trip to the grands was never better timed, and I appreciated having the opportunity to just focus on the extended workdays of first client engagement and then packing and moving. As I've already said, it was on the late side of the day- my energy pretty much gone, my muscles jello; I was on auto-pilot barely smiling when I passed people, even him, on my trips up and down.

My mind was honed on cheering my body onward, so I was shocked-snapped back into reality when he found me in the loft area, came close behind me and grabbed my hips.

"Hey, come just a bit this way," he said as he steered my body by pushing my hips a little to the left and towards the front of the building. "Look through the window," he said low into my ear.

Just so you know, there are two small square windows on the front of the office building. They are very easy to see through from the open loft area that is just outside my private office.

"Pretend the trees are ocean waves. And let's say that the power lines are sand. Isn't it a beautiful day to watch the sunset on the beach?"

The sun was low on the horizon, already dipping just a bit behind the treeline. It was a vibrant mix of pink, purple and orange. It was bright, but not unpleasantly so. It was perfect.

I was 100% in this moment and melted like some sappy character in a romance novel. He wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder. We shared a deep and happy sigh. I was stunned at his ability in this moment to reach across our typical awkwardness and land a solid romantic moment that had me breathless (and honestly, ready to call it a day and take him to bed). The entire exchange was no more than 5 minutes.

When it was done, I knew that I could love him for a lifetime of 5 minutes at a time.

How Do I "Feel" About Autism

I am a single mom. I've got a 6 year old. He's been diagnosed with moderate autism and his identified as a high functioning individual on the spectrum.

Being apart of the AU community is interesting - because the spectrum is so wide and umbrellas over so many different individual and extensive cases. It is only natural that people who don't have any first-hand experience with autism, but are hearing more and more about it are curious. People ask me how I feel about having a kid with autism (AU) - and I think that the real question is, "how do you feel?"

I live with the kid. I birthed him. I know him in and out.
But you...you only see him from time to time...maybe only one time. You may catch him on a good day and wonder, "Is there anything really wrong with that kid?" Or, you may catch him on a day when you ask yourself, "OMG, what is wrong with that kid; and why doesn't his mom have him under control?"

I very rarely "feel" when it comes to AU - I adventure it. I try to learn how to outwit, out-think, rethink, circumvent it. There don't seem to be many positive emotions when it comes to AU as a topic or AU as a reality; and so, I try to focus my "feelings" on my kid, who happens to be the smartest and cutest kid I've ever had (i.e. I have only one child - that's meant to be a bit of a joke). We live AU together each day - our battle, our adventure.

I think that any parent has the same general goal: raise the kid well enough that it can be a successful, self-sustainable adult.

That's my main goal. Everyone, AU or not, should have the opportunity to live life...really live life to their fullest potential.

So, I guess, that's how I "feel" about it.
1. I am thankful for organizations that provide opportunities for all individuals on the AU spectrum.
2. I am proud of other parents who work their darndest to face head-on the challenge.
3. I am appreciative of friends who offer the little extra patience is takes to be around an "atypical" child.
4. I love my kid more than I can say.
5. I respect each worker in the early-intervention-based field who dedicate their lives to improving the lives of the small people around them.

Whew...that's enough emotional output for now ; )

Warm and Happy

We went to a movie tonight. And he purchased my ticket. It was, oddly, as if it were a date. But he clearly dumped me not more than a month ago. So what I am to think really?

We brushed arms and elbows - I was in a sappy-based heaven. Immediately transported back to middle school when simple moments of physical connection were akin to mini-gasms.

The storyline was serious, so I didn't notice it at first...and let's be honest, I was a little focused on the elbow-magnetism that we both seemed to be enjoying (but was it only my imagination...)...but it dawned on me that I was cold. Very cold. I was wearing a thin top and skirt - not really theater wear. I had a shawl in the car, but - tell me - who really wants to leave the theater when the movie is already in progress? I rubbed my hands over my arm - he noticed.

"Are you cold", he asked.
"Yea. I should have grabbed my shawl," I answered.

It was a few minutes later...he must have been thinking it over. He reached to the arm rest between us, moved the shared Dr. Pepper to his far side, lifted the bar, put his arm around me and pulled me close to his chest.

HEAVEN

I stayed there the rest of the movie.
And was warm and happy.