Okay... today's a new day, and yesterday was ummm... yesterday.
Now how's that for an insightful observation, eh? It seems that deep introspection is worth doing occasionally, and it pays some pretty cool dividends. Like realizing that yesterday was yesterday... which I may or may not have realized otherwise.
I've got to move on and put the past behind me, so I'm patting myself on the back for a job extremely well done... and I'm moving forward.
Maybe they're just baby-steps at this point, but I figure that if I'm headed in the right general direction, maybe the momentum will start to build.
So... today's going to be "cleaning out day". I'm gonna pack up all the young lads clothes, toys, nappies and assorted detrius, and pass them along to someone else who can use them. I have to tell you, that whoever benefits by some of this stuff is going to think that all their Christmas's have been rolled into one.
Because I'm here to tell you that toys and educational aids for children on the autism spectrum aren't cheap - either cost-wise or quality-wise. They can't afford to be, because these kids can be extremely rough on their stuff.
And the nappies (diapers, which I have several cases of) are expensive as hell - if you can manage to source them - usually running $2-3 each. And the young lad could easily go through 2+ a night.
Those will probably go to another mother with 2 children with severe disabilities, but unfortunately, the toys and educational aids aren't appropriate for either of her children.
But the clothes? Those are going to be heartbreaking to give away, because there are things that we just recently bought together... and his pride and excitment in putting together several outfits was literally palpable.
The Old Guy and I would sit and laugh with him, when he would stand in his new clothes in front of the mirror, put his hands on his hips, turn in a circle and then do a little wiggle... while grinning and crooning to himself with happiness.
See... mum has always been of the opinion that you buy sizes according to the age of the child - whether they fit or not. So when it came to the clothes that she provided, he was squeezed like a sausage into a childs size 12 ... underpants and all. He constantly chaffed and pulled on those clothes - and he hated wearing them.
But when I bought clothes for him to wear here, we always bought size 16's at least, or even men's "small" t-shirts and Hawaiian shirts and men's sz S jocks.
The kid is Hawaiian shirt mad, and has a baseball cap to go with every outfit ... and Lord help us if he had hats that matched several colors in those shirts! He would carry the spare 2 or 3 in his hand, and constantly change them, depending on where we were. Safeway was the yellow hat, and the post office was always blue - to match the carpet in there, I think. The garden shop or nursery was always red, because they had a red feature wall behind the cash register. At least that's what I['ve always figured... but with young lad, who really knows what his reasoning was? He certainly couldn't verbalize what was going through his head, so it was a matter of close observation, intuition, and sometimes a stab or two in the dark.
But we got there.
We always did, because he was worth the effort.
Sh*t... listen to me. I said I was going to let it go, but here I am carrying on about him, aren't I?
Well, this will be the last day, anyway.
So, I better get a move on and get the two girls (I had them overnight) up and dressed, so that they can be ready when their mum arrives.
And then I can get straight to work sorting, cleaning and rearranging.
It'll be a load off, and a new start... and to tell you the truth, I'm ready for both.