I’m not sure I’m the kind of person you’d label “normal.” Some of my friends would probably take issue with that statement, but I would just remind them that I have named all of my aloe plants. I started with one large aloe plant. He grew and grew, and I named him Herb. I’ve repotted him numerous times, and he has offspring. They are Vera, Al, and Fred. I have other indoor plants, but I haven’t given them names. It’s not normal.
I have a friend that claims when her kids grow up and move out, she’s going to become a crazy cat lady. She says their bedrooms will become rooms for the cat jungle gyms. Every stray animal for miles seems to find their way to her door, anyway. Her husband just shrugs like, “what can you do? At least the kids won’t be able to move back in.” They are hilarious. But it’s not exactly a normal retirement plan.
When I was pregnant with Noah, someone gave me a baby book. It had Noah’s Ark on the front, and all kinds of pages for pictures. It had places to write down the dates of all the firsts. First time they reach out to grab something, when they first sit up, the first time your baby crawls, first steps. All the normal milestones.
It probably sits in the bottom of a box somewhere in the attic. It’s full of empty lines. Milestones that never came. Because Noah is not normal. The neurologist says he’s not neurotypical. But it just means he’s not the same as other people. One look at Noah will tell you he’s not normal. Sometimes people stare.
But you know what? Normal is overrated. And Noah is awesome. What is normal, anyway? Sounds boring to me. Noah is better than normal. Maybe we should all strive to be better than normal.
Anyway, I’m going to go water Herb.
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