Later the Same Day

How can it be?  This is the very same day.  A day can toss you around, turn you upside down and leave you on your bum.  Wondering “what the heck?” We know nothing.  Just assume.

I assumed the water heater would be delivered today so Dad and your step mom would have hot water.  It broke on Tuesday, this is Saturday.  We agreed to wait for the Sears delivery and save a few bucks.  No word, no delivery, not installation, no hot water.  I avoid that store after too many poor sales reps and bad service…I thought online might be better, but installation from a place in Concord?  Excuse me, NO installation from a place in Concord.  No hot water.  And while I’m on the phone problem solving the singing stopped, the hair pulling, screeching and taunting (really…the Na-na-na-na-na song, you know!) Both crying and then a big crash.  Doll house falls.  Okay here’s our real life.  I made up the other part.

Grumpy, thinking about caffeine and longing for Sunday’s hand-off of kids.  The clock stopped and now is going around the dial on its own like crazy.  Its a satellite controlled time.  Maybe sun spots you suggest.  No, it needs a new battery screams Liza, throwing  tiny pig at him.  Ouch.  Push and scream.  Get in the car, we have to go to gymnastics.  Not a peep. Liza says under her breath, of course, “peep”.

You spin around in the waiting area.  I ask you to watch out for toddlers. You goes into the next room, while Liza lies down on the carpeted bleachers kicking and annoying a woman watching her daughter perform.  The lady grabs Liza’s leg to stop the pummeling. Then we all, everybody sees you on a small closed circuit t.v. screen You are in the work out room alone.  It’s you on t.v..  Look, says someone, what he’s doing.  Twenty people look.  He’s flapping, twirling, then on his back flapping his hands rapidly.  Its as if I am watching a film about autistic self-stimulating behaviors.  Then I think, maybe I am.  Oh, God.  I used to say you were pretending to be a chick.  Not today.  You run in a circle for the camera.  You spin, flap some more.

The woman next to me says, my son is autistic, too.  And she points to him in the gym.

I want to go home and play with the tiny pigs, those little hedgehogs.  I want the tiny TV spinning to stop.  Finally you stop. If I went in there I’d be on T.V too. I couldn’t bear that.

Now what?  Hot water. Is that first on the list?  gma

man jumping high while posing
Photo by Yogendra Singh on

Mobile Play

We have been having the best time with our own play this week.  Grandpa is off fishing.  I have been grouting our wall mosaic in the art studio space with the kids, OMG—they are each quietly singing as they play this morning.  They each have invented little songs about what they are doing.  You sing, “Little piggy, I love you.  You are the cutest little one.” to the tune of “Friendly Octopus” Liza sings “It’s okay, little one.  You are going to sleep.  It’s okay. Night night little one.” to her own melody.  So soothing.  Reassuring (to me) Her play is healing, caring and richly involves the dog, Annie, you and dollies.


She is the most attentive big sister Annie dog could ever have.  If a collar isn’t in reach an ear serves fine to bring her into the playroom to take on the role Liza has in mind. When not climbing, riding her bike or jumping on the trampoline, Liza loves to play “home and care routines” -dollies, feeding, dressing, wrapping in blankies, stroller walks.  You both both cry, wrap and feed the characters in need.  Today you re-discovered the Playmobil people and some accessories. The piglets are adorable. And check out the hedgehogs.  I am so happy to see you using these.  Little sets in ziplok bags sat on shelves for years.  Some pieces are new.  It warms my heart to see the complex stories and the play using the same characters for the past few years.  Here are those little pigs again, but now they are in an apple business.  The trees have blooming, fruiting and leafless seasons.  The animals eat the overripe and fallen ones.  So much detail.Image

And Liza’s babies are visiting the orchard today.  You push the tiny carriage, the dad who takes pictures of the farm for the two babies.ImageImageThese pics taken by you.

They had to move to a new house.  Grandpa-mobil pushed the baby stroller, daddy carried the dolly changing table and brother drove the tractor.  Two rooms away the dollhouse has been re-arranged to accommodate the twins and their furniture. Liza-mobil and you-mobil are taking care of them now.  The parents are gone.  But what the heck.  We can do it.  They report. 

Clearly I have these moments of privilege and respite to thoroughly enjoy your stories, joyful engagement and my own.  Cold foggy drippy July, so chilly.  Your play warms our hearts. gma