The Angels

At the first roaring sounds of the Angels’ renewed presence in the vicinity, the crows, who had previously been casually doing their crow things in the comfortable, cheerfully sunny weather, hopped and flew to their respective tree homes with haste.  I liked watching them take cover in their preparation for the pending air show, a comforting sign to me of their adaptability to the schedule, as the Angels have already flown the past two days around this time.  

I enjoyed watching the crows then, too, as I witnessed them and at least two other bird species - a much smaller bird, and a seagull, specifically - make obvious attempts to mimic the sharp movements of the jet that had most recently passed overhead.  The little bird was trying to perform a loop, I think, and the seagull seemed to be attempting a form of barrel roll.  The crows appeared to admire the barreling speed of the planes, and I thought it looked like one or two were mimicking a jet’s sharp, aerodynamic shape with their bodies as they relentlessly dive-bombed their cohorts during quieter moments of the show.

I didn’t know the Blue Angels were going to be flying, but recognized them right away, once I was curious enough to brave the outdoor world.  It took me at least a few hours to enter it/exit here in order to investigate why the heck the planes that day seemed so much louder.  It was comforting and unsettling to once again have confirmation that I’m not insane.  They flew this week a similar or replicated schedule as the one followed during previous visits to Seattle.  Twice on Thursday, and a long one yesterday.  Today is Saturday.  

Haven and I watched the Angels mostly from inside on Thursday, where we had an excellent and fun vantage point, the jets surprising us by suddenly appearing low overhead from behind, giving us a detailed view of their belly as they sped in an unwavering beeline toward Lake Washington.  Haven stood in the large picture window facing the water and began yelling at the planes as they came into our line of sight.  We began calling any single, unaccompanied plane “Steve,” in accordance with a story I made up about why the jet was lone and not with the other Angels.  “Hi, Steve!”  “Bye, Steve!” “Steve, why are you so loud?!”

Haven and I decided to adventure to the short boat boarding pier across the street for the end of the Thursday show.  It was even more fun to watch from out there.  We sat on the wooden boards over the water, him in my lap.  He covered his ears with his hands, and I covered his hands with my hands, and sometimes with my upper body as much as possible, depending on the amount of strain put on my ears.  We didn’t have any problems, and I constantly checked in with him on how comfortable he felt outside, and let him know that we could return indoors at any point that he wanted, and that I wouldn’t be angry or anything, it would be okay whatever he wanted to do. 

Yesterday, Haven was asleep in his “little bed” when the air show began.  Max had gone “grocery shopping” the night before (Thursday night) and didn’t come back until 5:30am that morning.  He had one bag of food.  But that’s for a different story.  So, in addition to having a fitful sleep the night before, due to not having any milk or food while his dad was gone supposedly getting milk and food for him, in addition to the fact that his dad had gone to get him milk and food but hadn’t returned and hadn’t told us that he wouldn’t be returning, Haven had been awake since 5:30am, when his dad made a show of coming inside and not going into the bedroom, sitting in his gross chair and staring with bloodshot eyes straight ahead, not giving Haven any of the attention he was begging for unless I sharply pointed out Haven’s needs to him (even then, he only half-ass obliged about 50% of the time).  He kept using the excuse that he was too tired, a very commonly-utilized reason, no matter the time of day or what he had alleged to be doing that previous to Haven’s request.

Despite the roaring of the jets, it took Haven a surprising amount of time to wake, especially considering the fact that I had tried to wake him as well, gently but excitedly speaking to him about the jets flying again.  He had been looking forward to it, and had asked the day before if the planes would be back.  He woke unhappily, looking at me and crying, but not wanting to be comforted.  I had just washed my hair and face and knew I looked kinda terrifying, and I apologized, and attempted to take leave in order to be less frightful so that Haven would hopefully allow me to comfort him.  (He needs a lot of physical touch when waking up.  Words/sounds don’t seem nearly as important as having someone right next to him, calmly holding him or nearly holding him in some way.  Words actually seem to distress him at times.  He needs the physical comfort of knowing that someone is physically present with him, and that someone cares enough about him to hold him and protect him when he is vulnerable and waking.  He doesn’t want to be interrogated.

Sometimes he wakes and seems inconsolable.  He’ll resist physical touch, even though he needs it and wants it.  Lots of times that’s because he wasn’t comfortable in his sleep, often resulting in him being overheated.  If he’s wearing clothes, they’ll be wet with sweat, as will his bedding, and his face will be red, his hair wet with sweat as well.  When it’s like that, I open a window and get him near the new air allowed to flow in, which usually helps a lot.  I tell him what I’m doing, too, okay Haven I’m going to open a window now, okay?  That way you have nice fresh air to cool you down because you’re really hot, okay?  It’s going to help you feel better.  Sometimes Haven will say no!  Not often, but it he does, I tell him we’re going to try it despite his protests, and if he doesn’t like it, I’ll close the window.  He’s always liked it aside from the times Max has been present. 

Sometimes Max’s presence when he wakes up causes him to be inconsolable and he’ll scream for a long, long time, until Max comes around and tries to actually engage Haven.  This is difficult to achieve because Max usually yells at me for giving him the same information that Haven had been trying to give him.  He usually completely resists doing anything to help Haven feel better and makes me a target for his insecurities, trying to lay blame on me for something irrelevant or for why he is deficient as a parent.  Max also does this when Haven is sick, has been injured, or if there is another urgent matter involving Haven that requires our attention.