Of Flag Football and Parenting

Flag football season has gotten into full swing. Our first game is Saturday morning, bright and early, and should be pretty high on the hilarity meter. Mr. Smarty Pants looks like the Heisman Trophy when he goes to throw the football, having totally missed the point of why the arm is supposed to be in the air to begin with. The other parents were trying not to giggle until they saw me cracking up.

I am supportive like that.

His daddy meant well.

Now, he'll be doing it for the attention. Whatever, it's flag football. I just hope he has fun, maybe learns a few things.

Mr. Autism learned that if you stomp your feet hard on metal bleachers, they make a really loud sound. He likes that sound.

We can't sit in the bleachers anymore.

I never did sit in the bleachers until a few weeks ago. I always kept Mr. Autism in his fancy-pants Maclaren Major Special Needs stroller, which has off-roading capabilities and which I still love, nearly a year after buying it. My beloved geek wanted Mr. Autism to be less conspicuous, so he didn't want him in the stroller.

I'm not sure how a foot-stompin', hollering, madly running around tall autistic 10 year old is less conspicuous than a 10 year old autistic boy sitting in his special stroller reading a book or playing with blades of grass quietly.

His daddy meant well.

Oddly enough, these things would've driven me mad a year ago. Now, I just laugh at it. It's a lot less stressful when your spouse is working 7-4 instead of 10-6, and when that same spouse isn't working 20 hours a week of overtime. Do we miss the money? Well, yes, of course we do. But how do you put a price on family time? How much is mommy's sanity worth?

That being said, I am hopeful that one of the two new positions that he's applied for recently will come through. One has pretty much the same hours. The other has miserable hours, worse than the 10-6, and includes Saturday, every week. You can probably guess which one I'm rooting for.

When my beloved geek is home more, it's less stressful for me. Why? Well, he makes me happy just by being here (usually). The more time he spends with the kids, the happier they are. Mr. Autism doesn't chant "Daddy's at work" so much. I can cook dinner in peace while he plays with the guys, which is good, given that I'm a klutz when my attention's in 3 places at once.

I can talk to a grown-up. I like that. My days are pretty quiet otherwise.

My gardens are a little neglected right now, but our family life is going well and so is my book.