Messy Crazy Joy

I am sitting outside on one of the dry spots on our deck stairs, soaking in the cool smell of wet pine needles and grass and listening to that broken gutter drip, drip, drop. I need to fix that gutter. The flowers on the Dogwood are beginning to blush, the peonies are done blooming, and those hearty yellow flowers (what are they?) are marching along in all their invasive glory. Summer has been dropped in our laps but today we are reminded of the coolness that will envelop us when summer ends.

This week was one of those weeks when I felt incredibly overwhelmed in this parental pinball game I play. I worked, I took care, I shopped for semi formal attire with a surly teen and two bored to tears siblings, I got sick. This is the first damn cold I have had since Covid began. I tested about 6 times and all came back negative. Funny that all other illnesses get discounted now that we have a pandemic along for the ride. “It’s not Covid!” I said as cheerfully as I could with my broken baby donkey voice. I guess that is all the consolation everyone needs in this post-pandemic world.

Despite all the overwhelming feelings I had this week, I soldiered through and got by with a little help from my gay friends who produced bow tie options at the very last minute. The bow tie was perfect, of course. “Hah! Gay men holding families together since time immemorial.” Kai said when I asked what the world would do without amazing humans like he and his husband. I also ate a ton of Kai’s peanut butter trail mix when he was out one day because I was hungry. He stocks snacks in his drawers for colleagues and students; I am a frequent customer. Amazing human that Kai—fed and dressed with his help, this little family survived another week. Hallelujah.

Getting dressed for the dance on Friday was quite the process, J.D. was surly again and convinced his attire was not quite right. Then, as all the 8th graders of Hanson descended on town hall lawn in all their finest attire, his nerves floated away. There were ties, bow ties, suits, Hawaiian shirts, fedoras, and dresses of every color. The rain of that afternoon had cleared away and these kids looked like a pubescent human rainbow. I almost cried looking at all of them hug and clamor around one another. All were overjoyed to embrace yet another celebratory rite of passage. When a mom told me she would pick J.D. up after the dance for a sleepover, I was beyond thankful. My body was just so tired that night.

My cough has loosened and the sniffles have descended but, as is often the case with colds, I feel better than I sound. I am no longer as draggy as I was Thursday and Friday. As we stumbled through the weekend and Father’s Day awaited, it suddenly became clear that these kids are still quite affected by this family’s brokenness. Things came to an emotional head on Saturday night and, again, I felt overwhelmed. I cried for the first time in a while, it felt good to let it out and not be strong for a minute. “I suggest we stop talking before we both get too emotional.” Isaac said to me as he shoved a blanket in my face to dry my tears after he had dried his. Remember when he went to preschool with a brand new autism diagnosis and barely talked? Yes, me too. He drives me batty somedays but I am so very proud of that kid. He just graduated from speech therapy this week. You go Isaac.

This morning, the kids are having Dunkin’ Donuts with their Dad. It looks like the clouds are going to linger here all day, keeping things cool and damp. We will celebrate our very own resident Grampy today. Though his mind has changed over the years, his demeanor and love for his family has not. Like pieces of a mosaic, we will all come together as a family held together by Mom, Dad, and this house we call home. We are so incredibly far from perfect yet somehow closer to it than we have ever been. And so, I sign off today and join the noise of this messy, crazy, joy of mine. Happy Father’s Day to all.