Finally!

Kindergarten starts the Wednesday after Labor day. Bo will be in the AM class at the school down the street. There was no fanfare in that announcement from the school district. Just a matter of fact letter stating that we lived too close for bussing.

Send in the clowns.

I started the process for Bo's placement in January. We had 3 meetings, countless emails and several terse phone calls. I consulted a lawyer, other special needs kids' advocates/parents, and sent reference literature.

There will be a 504, and IEP will be written if needed, a nurse will be in the room. We will get an emergency medical supplies kit to have on campus.

We will start going to bed earlier and waking up with more structure. I am still a little dazed.

Send in more clowns.

The Unsettled Indecisiveness of ThisMoment

I keep waiting for things to be settled. For things to be known before I send another post of electrical impulses into the universe forever. A Morse code of pixels and punctuation.

School starts in a few short weeks and we still don't know where Bo is going to school for sure. But really, do we know anything about tomorrow for sure? I want guarantees. I want to be pandered to. I want someone to sooth my anxiety and fear. I'm certain the superintendant is not really qualified for that.

Happy Trails, Laura the Elephant

Turns out that Laura retired, so I didn't have to face the question of whether or not to ride the elephant. Bo enjoyed all the carnival games, and Ahn enjoyed all the sno-cones. The company carnival was a blast and they will be sure to enjoy it even more next year.

My Peace, I Give to You... or at least, my toes

There's a part where the priest quotes, "my peace, I give to you." I am rocking A and singing lullabies when I look down at her leg draped across me, and her toes, parallel to mine. And I realize that my joy at seeing this resonance in the smallest feature  between us, our toes, is not about seeing myself in her (since we really look nothing alike).

It is the comfort of knowing that she can see me in herself. For as long as she has those toes, she will have a part of me. She may never feel the same way about Jesus as I do. She may never know how I feel about my toes (grudgingly appreciative, they are not cute, but are so so important for balance!). She will probably think my ideas on politics and literature a drippy. But she can look down and know KNOW that there is a very literal part of me that she will carry with her until she too returns to dust.

Of all that is seen and unseen (toes, and DNA, in this case).

My toes, I give to you.