Tuesday, June 01, 2010
We were away for the long weekend - actually, STM left last Monday and had four well-deserved days to himself, and the kids and Flicka and I joined him after school on Friday. STM and I have never sat down and said, "Okay, you do this and I'll do that, and it'll be fair," but over the years we've done the special needs parent dance long enough that we rarely step on each other's toes now. As it is, he gets up early with Rojo and Flicka because he is not even awake at that ungodly hour (5:30-6:00), and is happy to sleep walk through the whole bacon, sourdough toast, praise-the-Lord, kicking, humming, what the BLEEP, morning that is Rojo. That is the time I, too, get up early, but have to myself. I meditate, read from various inspiring and helpful books, and in all ways "get the energy right" for the day - starting with the perfect cup of coffee I brew in my own private coffee brewing quarters. I take over around 7:30 when STM goes to work, but Rojo leaves for school before 8:00. On the weekends STM still takes the first shift, and I come on board later, we switch off throughout the day.
On weekdays I take the afternoon/evening/night shift. I have Rojo from 3:15 - 8:00 when he goes to bed, which although it sounds like more, is an even trade. STM has him unmedicated and super hyper, janked up and in a good mood (Rojo's words to describe himself), and I have him in search of parks and for the most part, tired from his busy day.
When I woke up and heard Rojo singing at 5:59 on Saturday, I couldn't believe my eyes - and feet. STM was still in bed. I decided to get up since I needed to pee anyway, and then I just went ahead and started the morning process I'd been doing in STM's absence the last few days. Rojo sang. Rojo tapped. Rojo hummed. Rojo swore. Rojo praised the Lord. Rojo ate 34 pieces of bacon and two Luna bars. I drank two cups of coffee here and there throughout the process, cleaned the coffee pot, put in a new filter, fresh, cold, filtered water up to the 6 cup mark, scooped out the perfect amount of freshly ground coffee and had it all set to turn on the minute I heard STM emerge from the bedroom. When he did, I pushed the button and was so proud of myself. I let him sit quietly in a chair getting his wits about him while the coffee brewed, and when it was done I put it in his preferred mug and brought it to him.
The next morning, Sunday, when I woke to singing I looked over and the other side of the bed was empty! Yea! My turn to sleep in! I slept another 45 blissful minutes, and when I staggered out to the kitchen my first words were, "Is there any coffee left?"
"No," STM said,"but it's all ready to go. You just need to clean out the coffee pot, put in fresh water, and add the grounds." He was dead serious. He'd thrown out the old grounds and put in a new filter and to him, that was "ready to go."
"Are you making fun of me?" he asked.
"No," I said, "I just love you. You and I are different, and that's what makes us work."
* Photo from: ww.ider.herts.ac.uk/school/courseware/graphics/images/two_point_perspective.gif