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Happy Mother's Day!
May. 13th, 2007 08:58 pm...to all and everyone, even those without children (or mothers [or vaginas]). Today was fun--we went over to meet Mom at the gym, took Cal to the park, then back to her place where we baked the rhubard-strawberry pie Steve and I had bought thinking it was already cooked. For dinner itself we ate a salad Mom made, plus olive-bread, plus the white kidney bean stew I made for her yesterday, then left in her fridge to marinate overnight. Cal was crazy and distracted, but not horrifically hard to handle, and fairly sweet overall; he's a good guy, even when he's biting buttons and flopping in the street. Besides, tomorrow he goes back to Daycare--FINALLY--so I'm extra-inclined to cut him slack right now.
Oh, and in "I don't really think he's Autistic per se" news...he's become obsessed with a book Dad sent him that tries to explain emotions through photos of weirdly-carved fruits and vegetables, called (I shit you not) How Are You Peeling? He sits there with it, reeling off one particular page over and over, and laughing hysterically: "A-MUSED, con-FUSED, FRUST-rated, sur-PRISED!" Granted, Steve making faces at him while he does it helps, but the words themselves now do just as well. So ha HA, universe!
That said, I actually got a sweet email/e-card from Dad to day, smething I hadn't been holding my breath for, since the last email I sent him ran along the lines of: Seriously, PLEASE stop calling my son an Asperger's case, okay? You can keep on thinking it if you want, but I'd prefer you didn't say it, because A) I'm not sure it's true, B) YOU're not sure it's true and C) what the fuck does it matter, anyway? Because we both love him anyways, RIGHT? Except I was nicer than that. And I guess he got the message, which is always pleasant, if unexpected.
So. C'est la, and now I go to answer it. Greeting repeated. 'Night, all.
Oh, and in "I don't really think he's Autistic per se" news...he's become obsessed with a book Dad sent him that tries to explain emotions through photos of weirdly-carved fruits and vegetables, called (I shit you not) How Are You Peeling? He sits there with it, reeling off one particular page over and over, and laughing hysterically: "A-MUSED, con-FUSED, FRUST-rated, sur-PRISED!" Granted, Steve making faces at him while he does it helps, but the words themselves now do just as well. So ha HA, universe!
That said, I actually got a sweet email/e-card from Dad to day, smething I hadn't been holding my breath for, since the last email I sent him ran along the lines of: Seriously, PLEASE stop calling my son an Asperger's case, okay? You can keep on thinking it if you want, but I'd prefer you didn't say it, because A) I'm not sure it's true, B) YOU're not sure it's true and C) what the fuck does it matter, anyway? Because we both love him anyways, RIGHT? Except I was nicer than that. And I guess he got the message, which is always pleasant, if unexpected.
So. C'est la, and now I go to answer it. Greeting repeated. 'Night, all.
