I am pretty sure today is Monday, so I'm not sure why it was so Freaky. Freaky Monday has no ring to it whatsoever.

First up on the list of Freaky involved a case of deja vu. You see, five years ago tomorrow, a little roostery boy emerged into the world full of attitude, and two days later he I left the hospital just as the SWAT team descended, weapons aimed directly at our car, helicopters hovering so low and loud I had to cover my ears. Today, as I sat in a meeting at work, just blocks from that same hospital, I struggled to focus on my boss' message as I heard those helicopters again. No, it wasn't PTSD. Almost exactly five years later, the same disturbing story: a gunman in the mall near the hospital, near the school. When the rooster was born, the man with the weapon disappeared without being caught, and no one was hurt. Today, I heard the word homicide. It sent a shiver through me. I couldn't help but recall how upsetting it felt to bring my new, beautiful, tiny little baby out in to the world only to face rifles and sidearms and scary men in flak jackets screaming at us to get out of the way. Even for LA, that's pretty freaky.

Freaky number two, no pun intended... When we started ABA a couple of months ago, the Rooster didn't want to set a foot into a bathroom. He threw epic tantrums, hitting and spitting to avoid the mere sight of the potty. Well, we are NOT out of the woods yet, but he's made substantial progress, and he's been successful many times. Today, however, my son wanted to earn a few gfcf chocolate chips. He really wanted them. And he also proved to me what I've long suspected: he gets confused about what his body tells him, and he has a hard time doing what we all take for granted. See, we've had lots of pee success, but not so much the other kind, the kind that he knows will earn him some chocolate chips. So for ABA tonight, I sat in the bathroom with Rooster hoping to achieve our mutual goals for nearly two hours. He was so determined, I couldn't get him to LEAVE the bathroom. Our ABA helper could barely get over the irony. We have a long way to go, but we've come a long way, too, and we're proud of him.

Freaky three isn't all that freaky, it just felt that way. I got an email from my mother-in-law (Hi, Mom!) saying she Googled GFCF and the name of her town and up popped my blog. I had told her and my FIL about it before, but this is the first time she'd read it. It felt a little freaky to think of my worlds colliding like that, but it felt good. She wrote me the nicest note:

"Mom here,
I was researching gfcf foods ... when I came upon roostercalls and checked it out. ... I love how your southern-ness comes through your writing and how your love for Rooster bursts through all the anguish over his diagnosis. I'm glad you have such terrific women who can give you support and comfort in the difficult times and encouragement for the future. Enjoy your time with pixiemama next week!
With love,
Mom"
Isn't that freaky good? I think so.

I could go on about the freaky day, but it wore me out. I'm tired. I'm going to curl up and think about how much my life has changed in the five years since my rooster came into it on May 19, 2004.

No matter how much I might wine and wallow, I never forget how lucky I am. I have a beautiful son, and tomorrow I plan to celebrate him.

Happy birthday to the best rooster ever.