We made up a song this morning while waiting for the bus.
We’re waiting for the yellow bus,
waiting for the yellow bus,
J’s going off to school
and he’s riding the yellow bus.
Where is the yellow bus?
Where is the yellow bus?
In this drizzle we stand
waiting for the yellow bus.
What time is it?
I forgot my watch!
Check the cell phone
and then tell me the time.
We are here too early.
Sorry I thought you said 8.
I did not you bumbling fool
I said 8:10.
Sorry I guess I’m anxious.
Please don’t use that word
if J hears it he’ll think this is something bad.
And so it went, on and on, becoming less of a rhyming thing as we went along. Of course, J kept looking at us like we’d lost our minds. He just wanted the YELLOW BUS. We know this because, weaving through the song, were the words GOING IN YELLOW BUS pronounced by the youngest of our party. He had his new lunch bag with him: a small bag of Chex Mix, a small chocolate-coated granola wafer and two bottles of water. That’s a snack if ever there was one.
When the bus showed up (ahem, at 8:10!,) J was happy to see it and get on it. I’m pretty sure all the chirpy singing was getting on his nerves, though not as much as if we’d been snarling at each other impatiently. I can’t stand being too early or at all late, my husband is always one or the other. It makes for interesting conversations…and songs.
The house is quieter than usual this morning. Instead of the constantly mewling cat that wanted cream, a fresh can of food, to be petted, to be let out, to be let in…I have the depressed cat that misses the other cat. No need for a cat whisperer or therapist, though…this too shall pass, I’m hoping.
Last night’s Fathers’ Day dinner was steak (grilled, of course, because man must make fire and harness fire and cook a dead animal on said fire in order to bow to the ancestors and celebrate, well, manhood) and home-made gnocchi. J saw the gnocchi and almost danced with joy. He was also excited to see that I’d sauteed some of our home-grown squash, but he refused to try any. He smiled at them, observed us when we tried them and then, quite pleased with himself, clapped and said he didn’t want any.
The idea of going to school today was appealing to him. Yesterday we drove out to see the school where the program is taking place, and he seemed happy. We then took a drive to the bookstore and he walked around the movie section looking for something he doesn’t already own to augment his movie collection. I think J has slowly come to the realization that he owns just about every movie out there, and that if I say NO to one it’s either because he has it or he’s getting it for Christmas.
Tomorrow we go to the psychiatrist, and our hopes for reducing the med seem a little slimmer now. The cat’s disappearance has attached to it a certain degree of anxiety that is bothering J. Miss Pipa, the remaining feline, is haunting us with her Moaning Myrtle attitude. Furthermore, the children who came up to the patio to announce the Simon Legree-like behavior that seems to have preceded the cat’s disappearance did very little to keep J calm. People of all ages tend to think that because J doesn’t talk, he is unaware of and incapable of understanding what is said to him and around him.
As I explained to the lady from the office and the construction foreman, at the end of the day, it’s J that worries me most. When a deputation of children shows up and excitedly announces that a cat has been basically taken by force and she never ever is seen again, J will take that in and it will sit on the back of his mind, comfortably taking up space and stretching until we end up with the classic silent-film scenario of a female in distress tied to the railroad tracks while the train barrels towards her. My hopes of eventually having J be THE person to take the trash out, check the mailbox and walk halfway home from the bus by himself are totally dashed for now. It is one of those unfortunate coincidences that one wishes would just NOT have happened.
We talked about this last night. The grown-up committee discussed it and, after careful consideration, determined that the timing might be off for the med thing. Maybe the Universe is trying to tell us something? Rather than sending us a Black Spot, it’s sent us an unexpected occurrence to remind us that being overly-ambitious is not always wise. You have made a lot of progress, the Universe seems to be saying, why mess it with it now? At the same time, we don’t want to be scaredy-cats (no pun intended,) but we can’t help taking a step back and thinking about the butterfly effect of this incident. If we take the med off at this moment, and there’s an undercurrent of anxiety in our home (even if it’s just Miss Pipa who outwardly expresses it,) aren’t we tempting fate?
Two years ago, we couldn’t eat out. Two years ago, there were places that we couldn’t get out of the car. Two years ago, the likelihood was high that J would want to stay in the car and one of us would have to do the grocery shopping. Maybe, just maybe, this is not the right time to attempt a change in dosage. Consider, as we have, that summer school is populated with people he doesn’t really know, and that it’s at a different school. Consider that he’s riding the bus in the morning and afternoon, and that Dada is going away on a business trip next week. Consider that the board is bigger, better and has more stuff on it. Consider that maybe we should wait a few weeks until all this blows over.
The Universe is speaking…I think we need to listen. Any thoughts?????