Today I dragged Casey to school. The same on Monday (it would have been yesterday as well, but they didn’t have school). If I let go of his hand or stopped pulling him… he’d stop. He refused to walk without being compelled to. He was “bored of walking to school.” I was also pushing Abby, who is teething and grumpy because she wakes up in the middle of the night to stop breathing, in a stroller that Carter and Peyton insist on holding on to. So basically I had to drag my whole family to school. It looked something like this:
So you could imagine that walking home after dropping 3/4 of them off is quite liberating. Some time to myself (sorta). Time to cry if I want to. Not so much because mornings sort of suck, but because I’m walking back to the destruction that is my house. Just kidding. I don’t cry. That would be lame and completely out of character. Plus, my house is always immaculate.
Today while walking home an older gentleman walked by with his dogs. We smiled and said hello, and as he headed on his way he glanced back at Abby (today she was facing me in her stroller so he couldn’t see her as he walked towards us) and stopped in his tracks. I watched him melt right there. He came back and got right close to her. He told her over and over again how beautiful she was. He kept saying,
“You’re so special! You’re so special! We love you!”
Then I melted. And there we were, two puddles.
Want to hear another fluffy story?
A few weeks back (and I haven’t written about this because I was trying to summon the courage to get a picture of this team with Casey. Turns out, I’m a coward) Casey spent most of his afternoons in the park trying to catch butterflies. Many of these days he did this wearing a full Iron Man costume. No joke. The track team from the high school that is just around the corner from us has been practicing at the same park because their field is all dug up. One day while we were there, Casey managed to catch a Monarch butterfly. The be all, end all, best butterfly there is. He was thrilled. So, he did what thrilled boys do, and took off towards the largest group of people he could find to show them his catch.
They were right in the middle of drills. I really didn’t want him to interrupt, so I went tearing off after him, Abby in arms, to stop him. But he was too fast. He went right up to the coach as she addressed the team to show her his butterfly. I could feel my face flushing with embarrassment. I continued to approach her, to apologize for Casey interrupting, when the most magnificent thing happened. The coach stopped what she was doing and looked at this butterfly. Then she told her whole team what he had done and they CHEERED! They all yelled and clapped and gathered around him to see his butterfly. They patted his back and told them what a good job he had done.
There I stood, still holding Abby like a football, out of breath from running to catch my son. I started to cry. It was one of the sweetest moments in my entire life.
And probably Casey’s. He spent the rest of the saying, “they LOVE me!”
See? Being a mom of special kids is tough. But it’s also better than you can even imagine.