For H.

Tomorrow it is H's birthday. He will be older than me. He says he can't remember how old he is, which is tosh because the man never forgets a fact. N'ery a number leaves this brain, he is a computerised human being.
He forgets things, things like feeding children, being told what is happening and why, that bin day is thursday and people like cards on their birthdays. He doesn't forget facts. He can tell you what is on page 427 of the Childrens' encyclopedia ( probably. I haven't asked him that because I might be a bit freaked if he WAS able to tell me)
When he has read something that interests him, he remembers it. He floors me at times when he opens his mouth and tells me some fact that a) he remembers and b) he is excited by. Very often, my first thought when he shares these facts with me is WHY? What in heavens name made him remember that? My second thought is always WOW. He remembers THAT! I wish I could share with you even ONE of the facts H has shared with me but I can't because I don't have the brain he has. I remember being astounded at HIS remembering and that is as far as it goes.
I remember that people like Cake on birthdays and that actually 4 year olds really want to open stuff on their birthdays. they could care less what they open but presents are a must when you are 4 at bedtime and flippin heck FIVE when you wake up. That needs celebrating thankyou and shouting and singing and cheering and CAKE.
H doesn't like cards. I think they hurt him physically because he can almost not bear to open them. If he gets cards I MAKE him open them because, well because it's rude not to and I make him pretend that he is thrilled. I don't but him a card though because I love him. He loves cake. He REALLY loves cake and he pretty much weeps if the ice cream runs out. He is easy to please. Cake, ice-cream and some cushion grip scissors. His day will be complete, as long as he isn't asked how old he is, because he doesn't know.
He is making books for Seth and Isaac, he is writing the Book of Mormon stories in a way that is fun for his sons,so that on sundays at church they have something interesting to look at, the Book of Mormon is full of stories with blood and guts and action..little boys heaven. He is putting in pictures and laminating each page.



He is quite brilliant and I am very impressed with him. His patience and determination has made me love him a bit more. A big bit more. He has crappy scissors that hurt his hands, so I bought him some comfy grip ones, perfect. With no card. More perfect. See? He will know I love him.
He adores his little boys, his family is his joy. Lucky me. i sometimes feel that I am surplus to requirements but actually know that this feeling is just me, being me.




I don't know enough about H as a little boy, he was quirky like Seth, funny like Elijah and stubborn, like Isaac. He has, I am told, always done things well, Eagle Scout, thought the biggest buzz in life was to see how high he could score in Math and Science tests ( Hmmmm me thinks the baby apple called Seth didn't fall far from that particular daddy tree) He could be found finding treasure in skips at a very tender age ( still loves other peoples' trash, it is like treasure to him..and me)
He wasn't a typical teen, he was a good boy. He was an intern in the White house and has pictures with George Bush and Ronald Reagan.
He has the typical traits of a person with aspergers syndrom, factual and loyal, obsessive and finds emotion a puzzling thing. Poor H, I often wonder what is in his mind when I am ranting and raving in a hormonal tizzwaz. His face is regularly the thing that halts me mid rage, such bewilderment. He has such infinite patience where I explode but will unravel when I am unphased.
I think we were made for each other.
We are a jumbled up jigsaw that somehow will get put together and admired after years of rattling around in a box. I think that eventually, in many years time, we will see what a glorious picture we make, there are thousands of tiny pieces in our puzzle and I am sure that it will take much patience to get to the day when that last piece is slotted in, but I love jigsaws, we're building the edges and we have found the corner pieces. I'm pretty sure that H and I are the centre pieces and I am excited to see what else is in that picture, along with some little boys and some bigger children....there's a whole lot more to our puzzle.




Happy Birthday my H. I won't tell that you are 47 tomorrow. I'll make that chocolate fudge cake and try not to eat any. i'll make sure it gets put in the fridge so it's cold. If do that and I don't give you a card, will you know that I love you without me saying it? I might just throw caution to the wind and say it anyway. I love you. See? Doesn't hurt does it?
Much love my darlin', yours, whether you like it or not, Helen.
Oh...and the song? I know you hate it but the words...well they say it all! H......H???? you turned the volume down didn't you?!!

( video of Shania Twain, from this moment..removed because it drove Me insane by playing everytime I came here!!)