Before we left the house, I told the migits to get their suits on. They had just gotten them in from our coaches this past week, and told they are not to wear them unless it is a meet. So, the "uniform" itself was an exciting thing. They put them on, and immediately boy migit begins complaining about how he felt it in between his bottom. Then, the tag was bothersome. Girl child was content with the way she looked, and sat in front of the mirror until I bribed her away by promising to take some pictures of her. Awkward. You see why I won't let her play with Barbie???? That's for another blog. Boy child was not thrilled about the whole sensory of the suit, so I then explained that he would have to wear the swim cap as well. We tried it on, as we had never done that before. All I can say is, he wasn't the biggest fan of the whole swim thing by this point, and I began to wonder if he would even enjoy the meet since this was hours long, in the heat, with some nylon sinking into his tushie.
We arrive there in plenty of time to then use permanent marker on my kids to write down their names, events, heats and lines. No, I did not know most of that terminology when I got there. I am just using it because it sounded fancy. And everyone who knows me, knows that I am all about sounding fancy. Acting a fool, but sounding all fancy like. So we take care of everything, and I find out that for some reason, I am free to watch the kids and not have a volunteer position. This worked out well, as I had my folks and niece to hang out with. I know they will probably not make it to another meet, and I was grateful for my kids' sake for the extra support. For this, I will call them jockstraps. After all, they were athletic supporters. I love my jockstraps. Most of them. I don't talk to one of the jockstraps, but we all have our issues. I think my book will be titled, "Why One of My Jockstraps Won't Talk to Me." If I were to purchase a book, I think that would grab my attention. I don't buy books, as I am poor, but when I write it, you should buy it, Then I could buy myself a book.
Geoff showed up near the beginning of the meet, and saw all three events for each child. It was cloudy, not too hot, everyone was happy and supportive, and I was enjoying it all. But I am glad I didn't have to work the bullpen tonight. It was undeniable that the boy offspring was not enjoying as much as his peers. His neurotypical peers. I always refer to children without autism as neurotypical. It is at those moments that I see his struggles that make me sad and realize he is stuck in this autism world that I will never fully understand. Most of that is because he doesn't know the words to share with me. And if he did, he still can't, because severe apraxia at almost 7 years old makes him almost unintelligible.
The meet was at a neighborhood that most of his classmates live in, and we saw a number of friends from his class there on the opposing team. The children were very excited to see each other, and near the end, boy child was happy to hear that I had seen some of his friends. That recovered me enough to not be sad for him. He says he had a good time, but I know if his sister wasn't already making her plans for next years' team, he would not do it again. But he adores her, and wants everything like his little sister. He wants so badly to enjoy things like her. When she doesn't like a food he loves, he stops liking it. I guess I'm just lucky that they have each other. I looked over their direction and I saw the two of them, side by side, and saw a smile on one face, and the other smile because he saw her doing it. His favorite thing to watch when I allow Netflix is My Little Pony. One day, he will find his joy in activity on his own. And I will be able to afford it, because you had bought my book about an un-named "jockstrap" that won't talk to me because I know that that Jesus loves me. "Jesus and the Jockstrap." Does that sound catchier than my first title? Would it be wrong to try to make money off a book with Jesus's name in the title?