Typical? NOT.

Our day was typical, which is to say it was full of unusualness. The content of the unusualness ever-changes, but you can count on each day to have its share.

So today I thought I'd share a Typical (not) Day in the Life of a Roostery Family, tentatively subtitled Fun (not) with HFA in LaLa Land.

Today we arrived at school, dropped of Peaches in her classroom, and ran across the street for OT at the public school we hope the Rooster will be able to attend in the fall if Open Enrollment and the IEP work out right. Our new OT person seems wonderful; he provides an additional 30 minutes on top of the hour Rooster gets from Fabulous Miss O each week. He did a great job today in spite of the Rooster seeming off to me, and I am loathe to stereotype, judge or in anyway harsh on Mr. OT. I will say, though, that he is full of character, unusual unto himself, and worthy of his own future post. He fits in fine in this tale of the Usual Unusual in Hollyweird. Oooh, maybe that's a better title...

After crossing the street and returning the Rooster to his classroom, I paused for a moment to think of how a web site I read yesterday had described our school: Liberals with Limousines. Now, I'm prone to balk at that stereotype, but today I had to laugh. Today my school hosted a function for a group of our kids as well as kids from a public school substantially lacking resources. The person responsible for the day was... well, I shouldn't say. I will say this: she not only rocks, but she rocked heavily in the 80s, during my teen years, and in fact could be described as an 80s rock icon. She and her people had a project idea to bring together these kids to write a song, and to have each child write a letter to our president. My job? To help with the writing lesson, assist with the technology, and shoot some photos. Good stuff. Really, if you combine writing, technology, kids, hope, change, collaboration, and community building into one soup, I'd gorge myself on it if I could. It seemed to GO. It seemed to WORK. Plus, a writer I revere came out to cover the event, and I got so flustered I couldn't get my hands to stop shaking long enough to get the lens cap off my camera. Three hours into it, I had a lunch break, and I went to check my email.

The Rooster's teachers felt, too, that he was "off." He had been cycling through moods, acting out, crying, and misbehaving, and he needed to go home.

I picked up the boy, confabbed with teachers, had him checked over my our excellent school nurse, and called my husband for ideas. Taking Rooster home didn't seem an ideal option yet; Peaches still was at school, taking her nap, and it's a schlep. J doesn't work too far away, so he said we should come meet him for a late lunch to figure out our next move.

At lunch, the Rooster had some tummy issues. Aha, we figured. Mystery solved? A trip to the loo and some good healthy food later, he seemed better. Sorry if that's TMI.

I loaded the Rooster back in the car planning to drive him and let him sleep it off, then pick up Peaches after nap time. We kissed my husband, and he headed back to work, trying to make a deadline.

Ten minutes later my husband calls me. Deadline, schmedline. The skyscraper he works in needs everyone out -- as do the nearby buildings -- on orders of the Secret Service, because the president is on his way to the neighborhood. J sweetly offers to come get the Rooster to give me a few minutes to myself before I need to get Peaches. By now the Rooster is out cold, though, so I whisper our location to my husband, who comes and finds us, and we switch cars.

I head to Whole Paycheck...er, Whole Foods, and get one bag of gfcf bounty for something in the vicinity of a C note. Queasy at the price, I head back to school for the fourth time of the day to get Peaches. My friend/soul sister tells admits that the day with rock idol culminated with an amazing singing performance by the children and the rocker, and too bad I missed it all, but thankfully someone got it all on video.

This was not a bad day. In fact, I kind of liked this day, and my husband is home early, so the night doesn't stink either. I even get to blog BEFORE bed time. But I'm dizzy from it all, really.

And tomorrow is lather, rinse, repeat, but most likely minus rock stars and presidents.

Ah, well.