8:30 a

awakened this morning at 7:45 by don dragging his feet into the bedroom to give me a goodbye kiss before going back up to the porch to put on his jacket, harness (for the seatbelt), braces, and shoes before going out to catch the bus.

then he missed it. fortunately, farmbeau was going to town and gave him a ride in.

i kiss my son goodbye each morning before he goes out the door. when i’d drop the boys off at school, i’d kiss them goodbye. farmbeau has been supervising don this month as he gets ready for school, and letting me sleep. but if i’m still in bed, don doesn’t go out of the house without coming down to give me that goodbye kiss or at least calling me to come and give him one.

“okay mom, you can come and give me a goodbye kiss now!”

i don’t know where he picked up this kissing-me-goodnight habit. at his bedtime i am often downstairs and, if so, he makes his way laboriously down there to give me a goodnight kiss. only me, no one else. i’ll often go meet him on the stairs so he doesn’t have to come all the way down. when i say what about farmbeau, aren’t you going to kiss him goodnight too? he’ll giggle and go give him a smooch.

i don’t recall ever teaching him to do this, and it’s surprising that he does because he’s never been one to whom showing affection comes naturally. he didn’t, like the rest of us, know how to hug without thinking about it or pick it up by observation. he still doesn’t hug normally and easily.

i’m a fairly optimistic person. i look on the bright side; i assume that the universe will take care of me and mine. not long ago, i said i thought i had a pretty easy life and someone asked “even with don the way he is?” and i said yes, he’s an unusual challenge of course, but he could be so much worse off, and many are, that i feel we have been lucky. she thought i was a real trooper when i said that, but it’s true — i’ve been to the glenrose, i’ve seen the kinds of lives some people have to live, and i know don is one of the lucky ones and, by extension, so am i.

but when i get sick, as i have been for several days, fear and doubt get their foot in the door of my consciousness. last night before falling asleep i remembered that i could die any time, unexpectedly, and i still haven’t got an insurance plan or a plan, period, for making sure don is taken care of financially throughout his life.

and i’m ashamed of myself. this is not something i can leave to destiny and faith to take care of. this is my job, my responsibility. i know if i died tomorrow, dave would take care of him and barney. they’d have suzanne and her husband looking out for them, they’d have mom and dad, jill, everybody doing what they could. farmbeau would try to be there for them, too, if dave would let him.

but i still feel that i absolutely must not let these children down by dying before they are grown up, and i have to come up with some sort of plan to support don in case he cannot support himself as an adult. i have to figure out a way to do it from my grave!

12:30p

Taking a breather here. Literally. My lungs are not up to snuff with this cold having moved downward, so even going up and down the stairs leaves me panting.

I looked around the kitchen this morning and almost threw my hands up in despair. Where to begin? There were two sinks and a counter full of dirty dishes, and Farmbeau had filled the draining rack with ripe tomatoes. There were frying pans with cooked-on eggs on top of the stove. There was no place to move anything to in order to start the cleanup job. I nearly gave up before even starting.

But ahead I went. Half the dishes are washed, dried, and put away. Barney offered to help; now he’s busy chopping up tomatoes. I’ve got a batch of wholewheat bread on the rise, and dirty dishes soaking in hot water while I rest for a few minutes before carrying on.

2:30 p

Been out for a walk, and roped myself into pickling cucumbers for Farmbeau’s mom and dad. Not sure I’ll get around to that today though, without wearing myself too far down. I’ve done well to get the kitchen cleaned and will have accomplished enough when that nine loaves of bread come out of the oven.

At 3 o’clock, I am going downstairs to watch Coronation Street, and nothing and no one is going to stop me. I will not even answer the phone during the half-hour that it’s on.