After talking with Joey’s behavioral therapist, I have figured out that Joey’s current aggression is mostly sensory-seeking behavior; I’ve changed his “sensory diet,” and there is less pinching. The main change has been sessions of me hugging him much tighter than I personally would enjoy being hugged: I wait for him to ask for a squeeze (“Geese!”) and then squeeze him for maybe five seconds. We repeat this over and over again, until Joey gets tired of it.
Every night, I give the same bedtime speech to the boys in English and ASL—Saturday night, for the very first time, Joey tried to sign along. He is completely amazing. Kit has developed his own bedtime routine, which involves running for the hills and laughing like a maniac.
Mister Book is working overnight this week, so he stayed up all night Saturday night—I’m two hours behind him, so while I baked cornmeal lime cookies and almond and chocolate ganache sandwich cookies for my parents’ bible club, cleaned the kitchen, and drank a modest amount of Jack Daniels, he read to me over the phone. This is one of my favorite of our relationship traditions; I bake and he reads aloud to me from choose-your-own-adventure-style books. These days we’re working on his personal favorite series, six books about a ninja and his adventures. After we got off the phone, I learned that my almost three-year-old cell phone would no longer charger; it had died the true death.
My brother’s kidney transplant has finally been scheduled: April 29. It’s been two years since we learned that he was in end-stage kidney failure, and we’re all thrilled. He’s coming out to California for the transplant, as our mother will be the donor, and he’ll stay with us and convalesce for three months. I’m very much looking forward to seeing him again—he and I can be nerds together, and he loves his nephews quite a lot. My sister Kate is coming to visit, too, and her visit may overlap with his; it feels like I haven’t seen her in forever, and I just can’t wait.
My mental health is not amazing. But it could be worse, for sure. Summers are better than winters, and every day I get closer to seeing my sweetheart again.