Susan Senator

This has been quite a time, being without Ned. I really have three very nice boys. Unusual, but nice. I took them to the video store this afternoon and we just kind of did our thing: Max went straight for Jackass II, which I decided to allow; I found nothing except a movie I’ve seen many times (Rain Man) but figured I’d inveigle the boys into watching with me; and Benj got some awful new cartoon. Nat walked and talked up and down the aisles, only to end up choosing a vid we already owned (Alice in Wonderland), but who’s judging? Ben was. He muttered, “Of course, we already have that.” And I said, “What do you care?” Poor Benj. I often do not validate his comments like that because I feel that he needs instruction more than validation about Nat.

So, then we went to Bertucci’s in SoBro (South Brookline) for dinner; the favorite when Ned is not around (he does not enjoy going out to eat with the kiddos because it is tough when the service is slow and that Bertucci’s is uneven that way). But I don’t mind, and I love how much cheese they use in everything! Their rolls are torture, however. So I allowed myself a morsel with a lot of butter; such is the skewed way of eating in the Atkins universe.

A lot of people stared at us because of Nat’s stimming and Max’s blue hair. I found I was completely amused by it; what has happened to me? Where did this mellow chick come from> How strange, that suddenly the double staring made it all easier! Like, we are so bizarre a quartet to the untrained eye, what’s a little more? I should have worn a hip scarf!

Got home, everyone had their showers, except me (I’m morning) and Max (he’s blue-haired and must wait one more day). Usually Ned runs the showers so it was a bit of a surprise how much skin can fit in a small bathroom. Somehow one of the towels is now sopping wet, as in, was dropped in the toilet perhaps. D’oh.

Later, I tried to get Beast to watch Rain Man with me: my version of sibshops. I think it helped Max understand more about autism and having a sibling when he was younger. Dustin Hoffman does a terrific job of it, too. But Beast is different from Max; less patient, less willing to be seduced by vague promises of funny things to come. He did, however, love how Dustin Hoffman was acting and was fascinated by him. (“Is he really autistic, Mom?”) Eventually, though, I lost him: he suddenly jumped off the couch and crawled out of the room, backwards, and on his back. He’d had enough empathy for one night. I shut it off because I’ve seen it a bunch and really had had my heart on watching it with boys. I’d had enough empathy, too.

I went upstairs and watched some Jackass II with Max. Well, I suppose it was a bonding experience, at least. Some of it actually did make me laugh against my will (a fartmask?). Other parts nearly made me sick (the fartmask). It is so totally one of those young men kind of things, a test-fest (testosterone festival, my phrase, make sure you credit me).

Tomorrow for lunch: Neddy Sweets