It’s not even over, and I can write the epilogue for this day. It’s freaking snowing. Not enough to play in, no, just enough to be cold and miserable out there.

We all piled in the car to head to a friends house out in the country. We left David at home to fret and stress about the bills- it is the first of the month, after all, and nothing is more fun than the first when you have no money! Whoo hoo!

Anyway…

So we drive and drive and drive, and find the friends house, waaaaaay out in the country. Lots and lots of kids are spilling out of the house, in the yard, all over the place. Cool. Many moms have gathered here to let the kids play- there are chips and pop and hot dogs, a Wii, a swingset, chickens, a huge farm-like yard and several dogs. Kid heaven. The mom who runs this family us uber cool. I zip my kiddos into their coats and let ’em rip.

(Incidentally, this Mama has been receiving links to my blog from friends of hers for years, reading, never realizing she knew me! When she put two and two together, she was suitably unimpressed, thinking, like most do “But it’s just Tracy…” Goes to show, I make a better impression in writing than I do in real life!)

Several hours, many cups of Kool-Ade and a few hot dogs later, I can see the signs of Bean being All-Funned-Out. He is outside with a few other boys, near the chicken coop, when someone turned on the hose. It’s near freezing. Just as I walk out, Bean get’s doused with the hose. Time stands still, his little arms out stiff in his blue coat, a look of shock and horror on his frozen face. Oh no….

I run to him and scoop him up, just as the air horn begins to wail. Nothing is more upsetting to this kid than having his clothes/socks/pants/shoes messed up. Tossing him in the back of the car, I strip his soaking coat, hand him my warm coat, and buckle him in his seat. He is flailing and fighting me- he is cold, wet, and angry. And he has Aspergers- not a good combination.

Abby is picking her way towards the chicken coop, opportunity presenting herself, and I swoop her up too and buckle her in the car. Time to go! Cheery fake mom smile! Oh Jeffrey, get your coat, please! Singsongy me!

Jeffrey hops in the car with no complaint, thank heavens. Bean is absolutely WAILING and keening. He does this when over-stressed. Or when something is out of place. Or not right in his world. It can be a small as a drop of ketchup on his shirt. Perfection is important to him, and muddy boots, wet coat, and being cold do not fit that profile. I give my thanks to the mama of the house, turn the heater to Saharan Vortex, and make for home.

It’s just under an hour home, and at the 28 minute mark, I had to pull over on the Interstate, hazards-a-flashin’, to calm Beanie down. He finally fell asleep. Screaming like a banshee will do that to a boy…

We got home, and I was greeted with a poopy diaper, and three little mouths saying, in unison, “I’m HUNGRY!” Awesome. Fantastic. Let me just haul all this wet, muddy crap from the garage, start the laundry and then I’ll start cooking. Can I set my keys down first?

Here comes Abby, whining and moaning about Beanie. He, no doubt, was touching her. And so goes the day…