Day 31: Subject Has No Words

 ...

...

...

Day 30: Subject Views the Light at the End of the Tunnel

 Today, Elliot starts in a new school.

Billerica (I'll say once more, bless this school system) has a program called the Compass Program for kids with behavioral issues.  It's located at another elementary school in the district, so Elliot has been moved over there for an extended evaluation that will last the rest of the school year.

He and I went and toured the school yesterday.  It's amazing.  Not only is it a gorgeous new building, filled with all kinds of awesome stuff, the staff there were fantastic.  Everyone we saw stopped and spoke to Elliot, and told him how excited they were to have him with them.  His new classroom teacher is great, and he was so taken with the Compass Program teacher that half way through the tour he started holding her hand.

I'm trying not to get my hopes up too high, but I really, really think this is going to be good for him.

 The music room has tons of xylophones, glockenspiels, and drums.

Elliot was stoked.

 Today I dropped him off, and I'm wretchedly nervous.  I hope so much that this is going to go well for him, and at the same time I know that it's silly to expect miracles.  It's left me in this weird state where I'm super happy, but I might burst into tears at any moment.  I'm like those kids who sob on Christmas morning, because it's just all too much.

Back in the car, having delivered the dude to his new room.

Anyway, send Elliot good wishes.  And if you have any positive energy left, pack up a little serenity and send it my way, so that I can be prepared for whatever kind of day he's had, regardless.

Day 29: Subject Ponders Bikinis and Bellies.

I bought some bikinis--

--Now, lest you get the wrong impression about what a big spender I am, I feel I should tell you that I purchased these bikinis at Savers.  The nice thing about thrift store bikinis is that they're only $5, which means you can get two.  Two is the correct number of of bikinis.  Two means that if you're swimming more than once a day, you don't have to try to wiggle into a wet suit.  It also means you can have one traditional bikini bottom, and one super cute boy short bottom.  Yaaaaaas--

--so, anyway, now I have a couple of months to accustom myself to the idea before wearing them.  Why, you may ask, did I buy bikinis if I didn't want to wear them?  Well, it's not that simple.

See, I like bikinis.  I have an oddly shaped torso, and one-piece suits are often uncomfortable for me.  I also have a bust size and a hip size that most manufacturers don't think go together, so generally either my boobs get smooshed flat or the bottom is a little flappy.  NOT WHAT YOU WANT IN A SWIMSUIT.  Buying bikinis solves both these problems as I can fit top and bottom separately, and my odd torso shape doesn't even play into it.

All that being said, I haven't worn a bikini in nine years.  Not since I got pregnant with Elliot.  I mean, I support all those "Want to have a bikini body?  Put a bikini on your body.  Done."  kind of campaigns that are going around, but it's one thing to believe that in your heart, and another to have the brass ovaries to ignore decades of body image issues and just do it.  I've never quite worked up the nerve.

But this spring, as I was sorting through my warm weather clothes and noticing how badly I needed a new swimsuit, I finally got fed up with myself.

After all, what is it that I'm so self-conscious about?  My stomach isn't flat?  Yeah, well, me and most of the rest of America.  So what?  

Is it the stretch marks?  Hell, no.  Those are war wounds.  I'm not going to be self-conscious about them.

So, today I am biting the bullet.  I am going to post a picture of my belly, war wounds and all.  Then, when the air warms up, I'm gonna rock my bikini, feeling secure in the knowledge that everyone has already seen my tummy, anyway.

This is mah belly.  Right here.

**I have a little belly

I like to feed it food

It jiggles when I shimmy

But still, it shimmies good

Oh belly, belly, belly

You are a little plump

But I won't let that stop me

Because I'm not a chump

**With apologies to the dreidel song.

Day 28: Subject Has Made A Tactical Error.

This morning I was in a shower that was not my own.  As it had been a while since last I washed my hair, I decided the time had come to brave the terror of someone else's shampoo.  What's the worst that could happen?  I thought.  

Just so do the lemmings think, as they plunge over the cliff's edge.

The first shampoo I tried didn't seem bad at first whiff, but as I lathered up the overwhelming smell of concentrated "fragrance for men" began to assault my poor nose.  I couldn't believe that something so powerfully scented could come from such an unassuming little grey bottle.  Hastily I began to rinse, but I could tell it was already too late.  My hair was clean, but DAMN was it stinky.

Like I'd bathed in this, actually.

With a great deal of resignation I came to the conclusion that I would need to wash my hair a second time.  I'm not much in the way of hair care--I barely wash it once a week, let alone twice in the same day--but desperate times call for desperate measures.  I poked around and found another shampoo, one with pleasantly hippy-crunchy advertising on the label.  Again I did a sniff test and could sense nothing horrendous.  Just a deep, musky smell that would likely be odd for me, but not overpowering.  With slightly more trepidation than the previous time, I again lathered up and set to washing my hair.

I do not know what bizarre alchemical process happened between these two shampoos.  I do not know why they reacted to each other the way that they did.  I am not a cosmetologist, to know such things. 

What I do know is that my head currently smells like an entire, freshly-deoderized football team has rubbed their armpits directly into my head, and that the quarterback must have been some kind of hipster, because I am currently existing in a miasma of Old Spice and patchouli.  

The face of misery.

Dear universe, please may I have my shower back?

Day 27: Subject Reflects.

It's Friday.

I've made it through the week.  Or, rather, Elliot has made it through the week, and I've wrung my hands and watched anxiously from the sidelines.  It's not just Elliot, either.  The longer this goes on with him, the more Charlotte lives in the shadow of "all things pertaining to Elliot."  My little star burns a little more sullenly every day. 

At times I think that children are born to break your heart.

Other times it doesn't weigh so heavily, but truthfully, it's hard being a mom.  There's this awful burden to solve things, and this equally awful weight of knowledge that you can't actually solve anything.  The best you can do is never give up, and always be there to hold them close when they feel like flying apart.

But sometimes, sometimes if you're VERY LUCKY, you get a moment of grace.  A moment when, out of the blue, you hear your daughter singing Stressed Out in the living room while she prances around in her pink, polka-dotted bikini, and it just changes your whole outlook for at least a little while.

Wish we could turn back time...

 to the good old days...

when our Mamas sang us to sleep...

but now we're... Mommy, what's 'spressed out?

Day 26: Subject Takes a Moment for Bito

Chimbasa has been whining at me while I work for days.  He's got food, he's got water, he's been out to pee, and still he just stands there and whines.  I couldn't figure out what he wanted, until today.

The Bito finally achieves his goal.

 Restful bliss, for his tiny little puppeh self.

I loves the Bito.

Day 25: Subject Is Bloodied, But Unbowed.

'Twas rainy, and a sullen morn
Did fret and make me frown
All fractious was my second born
And the first was like a clown

Beware the heater leak, my child!
With seams that spring and steam that's hot
Beware the spreading pool, gone wild
A fun time, it is not.

She took her laundry in her hand
And tried in vain the flow to staunch
Alas, the rupture was too grand
So she gave up, and had some lunch

And while she ate her meager fare
She pondered deep her case
And called a plumber to come there
Forthwith, and with all haste

One-two, one-two, oh what to do?
A new appliance I may require
The other's dead, and in my head
Are thoughts of woe and tire.

Hath thou cleaned the basement floor?
I praise thee much, oh weary one
There's more to do, alas it's true
But at least the one job's done.

'Twas rainy, and a sullen morn
Did fret and make me frown
All fractious was my second born
And the first was like a clown