Another month gone by and I haven't posted a darn thing here. As usual it is not that nothing has happened, it's that too MUCH has happened and that by the time I process one thing and start to write about it I either get interrupted or a new crisis erupts.
I will tell you that Abe broke his wrist playing baseball at a tournament and that when I saw him crouched on the field holding that limp wrist I jumped up and down on the clangy metal bleachers and screamed every swear word I know. Yep, I'm calm in a crisis. After a couple of nerve-wracking days of uncertainty over what was broken (or not) we landed with a most fabulous hand surgeon, who thankfully did not suggest surgery, but fashioned a beautiful cast with which Abe can still play baseball. I found myself jumping up and down on a different set of clangy metal bleachers a week later when he hit a single and a triple after switching back to righty hitting (after three games of lefty bunting he decided that just wasn't his thing) wearing the cast. It's amazing he can play at all, and believe me I asked the doctor fifteen different ways if he was sure he didn't risk further injury.
And I'll tell you that Oscar, that same weekend, performed so beautifully with the Latin American youth ensemble Los Mapaches, leading the group onto stage confidently playing bombo, a traditional drum made from wood and sheep's skin. He sang out earnestly, played zampona, and did his best with the dances. After the concert, a member of the adult Latin American music ensemble complimented Oscar on his bombo playing and all I could think was "he doesn't know!" That man doesn't know that Oscar has a disability and that he worked extra hard to learn that complex beat that might have come easier to someone else. He wasn't just being nice. (If he'd complimented Oscar's dancing I'd know he was just being nice). Oscar idolizes the adult musicians and just beamed up at him emitting a barely audible "thanks".
And I'll mention that Ruby's perseverance and stamina on the soccer field is astounding me. Before this season she liked soccer, but now she seems to love it and runs harder and longer than I thought she could. Some parents from her old preschool formed an all-girl team this season and she's so thrilled to be with her old buddies again twice a week. Last week, after playing for nearly 45 minutes without a goal, her team finally scored against a dominating squad. The girls, all just 5 and 6 years old, immediately rounded into a joyful celebratory circle, red sweaty cheeks pressed together, and laughed and whirled around. I got all teary-eyed as did my good friend B, not because her daughter scored the goal, but I think because like me she saw in that spontaneous celebration how our girls are already understanding perseverance and teamwork and friendship on such deep levels.
So that's a slice of our month.
Today is my day over at Hopeful Parents. I posted an essay I'm working (or should be working on) that I adapted from a blog post here a year or so ago.