Girls' night out

It all started with two free tickets to Yo Gabba Gabba Live, given to us from Valerye.  Brian would be at work, so it would just be Olivia and me making the trip to Charlotte.  When I told Jacob, he said, "Just you and Olivia?  Good luck with that."  He's a smart kid, but I was hoping for a bit more optimism from my first born. 

Today was the day.  Show at 6:00 p.m.  Jacob turned on the TV this morning so Olivia could watch some Yo Gabba Gabba.  You know, to get in the YGG groove.  She banged her head over and over until we had to turn it off.  Jake and I just looked at each other.  Our expressions told the same tale... Dang. This isn't a good sign.

Brian told me this morning that he hoped I wouldn't be upset if we stayed five minutes and then had to leave.  I told him that, yes, I would be upset, but that I know it's a fairly strong possibility, so I'm prepared to expect it.  You just never know with our girl.

But, oh, how I prayed that she would be happy and love every minute of it...

We hit the road early today so that we would have enough time to get to Charlotte, eat, and get to the show early.  I wasn't sure what we were going to do with all the extra time... but, we ended up staying pretty busy...

Thirty minutes into the trip and traffic came to a standstill.  It took us an hour to go eight miles.  During that time, I cut my fingernails, sang with my girl, and researched restaurants on my GPS.  Outback sounded yummy.  I really wanted a salad.  Destination set on the GPS, traffic jam breaks up, and we're cruising on to dinner.  Got to Outback at 3:15.  Annnnd... they don't open until 4:00.  I knew this!  But, I obviously forgot...  New destination: Longhorn.  You know, cause they have a good salad.

It took 20 minutes to get there, but we had plenty of time.  We get out of the car and to our table.  And, Olivia was not having it.  She wanted to wheel away.  She squealed. Loudly.  So, I took her out of her wheelchair and held her.  And then, she flipped.  Head-butting, pinching, squealing.  One quick head-butt to my lip (right. on. top. of. my. fever. blister.) and the tears came.  (Those would be my tears, if you are confused.)  The waitress asked if everything was okay.  I told her that I overestimated how well dinner out by myself with my girl was going to go.  I begged for some bread, hoping that would calm Olivia down.  While we waited, I cried quietly and held her tight.  She was thrashing.  Mad.  Distraught.  Miserable.  Me, too.  I managed to order through my tears (I still had not given up just yet) and prayed that Olivia's meltdown would ease up once some french fries arrived.


I thought I was crying without an audience.  (Well, besides the lovely waitress, who got us some french fries so fast that I'm beginning to think she stole them off of someone's plate in the kitchen.)  But, there was a couple in an adjacent booth and the husband obviously clued in to the fact that I was having a tough time.

The fries did the trick for a while and Olivia managed to calmly eat in her wheelchair while I ate my salad.  Still drying my tears, I was trying to focus on staying positive.  The man from the neighboring booth went to the restroom and the woman came over to my booth.  She said that her husband had noticed that I was upset and she wanted to know if there was anything they could do for me.  Um... cue the tears.  Again.  I inadequately gave the short version of how unpredictable my girl can be and how we were trying to get to the YGG show and how I don't do well by myself when I'm out with her and she gets upset and how she's a mystery and how I love her so much.  Yep.  I was a rambling mess.

She was so kind and she said that she and her husband wanted to pay for our dinner. It would just be a little something to help make our evening a bit better.  (Cue tears.)  I wholeheartedly thanked her and told her that was not necessary.  We talked for another minute and then she went back to her booth.

Until she came back again a few minutes later.  We talked some more.  I rambled on and on- in incoherent and disjointed sentences- about this journey my family is on.  She shared that she had seen something about iPads helping autistic children communicate.  I rambled some more.  Then, she insisted that they pay for our dinner.  

As they were leaving, she gave me a small piece of paper with her name and phone number on it.  She said that anytime I'm in Charlotte and need anything, to give them a call.  I gave her my number and blog address.

I'm overwhelmed by the kindness of strangers.

We survived the rest of dinner, and then headed to the show.  We pull into the parking lot and the attendant asks for $6.00.  Guess who didn't think about parking fees?  Guess who didn't have any cash?  Guess what happened next?  Yep.  Cue the tears.  Poor guy.  I'm fairly certain I was the only one he dealt with tonight who came to see Yo Gabba Gabba and started crying in the parking lot.  He pointed me in the direction of an ATM, and I was back within ten minutes with some cash.  Then, as he sent me on my way, he assured me that everything was going to be okay.  Bless him.

We made it inside and I went to Will Call to pick up our tickets.  I called yesterday and asked if I could switch the tickets I had for a handicap accessible seat and companion seat for the wheelchair.  The manager was very kind and said my new tickets would be waiting for me.  I didn't ask where they would be, but I noticed as soon as I got them that we were on row A.  We were on the front row!!!

Olivia started singing the YGG theme song as soon as we entered the doors to the theater.  We settled in to our seats and she was already smiling from the YGG image on the stage screen.  She and I played around with the iPad for a while before the show began.  Then, at 6:00, the stage came alive.  And, so did Olivia.

I cannot adequately express the joy of the next hour and a half.  Olivia loved every single moment of the show.  She sang the songs she knew, and she bounced and danced the entire time.  I held her in my lap, and I tried to peek at her face as often as she would let me so I could soak in that look of pure joy.  She was mesmerized.  She was in heaven.  She was bathing in the lights and sounds.  She was giggling.  She was clapping.  It was all I hoped and prayed it would be for her.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one who noticed that Olivia was loving the show.  I was approached by one of the cast members who asked if Olivia could come up on stage for one of the songs where they include audience members.  Of course!  Then he asked if Olivia could say her name.  I told him no and that I completely understood if he wanted to find other children who would be able to say their names.  A minute later he came back and said, "It doesn't matter if she can't say her name.  I want her up there!"

At intermission, I contemplated changing Olivia's diaper.  She hadn't leaked yet, but it was pretty wet.  I finally asked the ladies behind me if they would be offended if I changed her diaper in the floor.  They said no, and the next thing I knew, they were right beside me ready to help.  One held up the towel I brought so we had some privacy while the other was tucking Olivia's coat under her head.  Good gracious, I'm in awe of the kindness of strangers tonight...


Olivia did get upset one time while we were in the auditorium.  Near the end of intermission, I let her wheel herself around in front of our seats.  She wheeled herself over to the side of the stage and got pretty ticked off that a) her wheelchair would not go up the steps (trust me, she tried) and b) that I would not help her get up those steps.  She threw her head back (it's tough to bang your head while in the wheelchair, but she tries) and she pinched me a bunch.  But, it was pretty dang sweet.  Chickadee wanted up. on. that. stage.  I tried to explain to her that we would be going up there soon.  I don't think she was listening.


A couple of songs later, our cast member found us again and we went up on stage.  There were 15-20 kids up there with the five cast members.  Biz Markie came out and did some beatboxing with a few of the kids before singing a mashup of a few songs.  Olivia was overwhelmed.  She couldn't stop smiling.  She looked at the audience, she turned and looked at the screen, she laughed, she danced and clapped, and she sang her own little tunes before the music even started.  She loved the bright stage lights and the loud music. It was sensory heaven for her.  It was simply heaven for me.

I did get a little too close to Olivia one time while she was sitting on my lap.  She wasn't upset, but she wanted down (I'm sure to climb up on stage) and she threw her head back when she tried to get down.  Her head found my lip... again.  Same spot, but with more force this time.  Wow.  I saw stars.  It's still throbbing, four hours later.  She has good (bad?) aim...

I wish they allowed photography and video recording in the theater.  I want to share this experience with Brian and Jacob and friends and family (and kind strangers).  I want you to see her face when the snow confetti rained down on us.  I want you to watch her bounce up and down and flap her arms, dancing in the way her body is able, but knowing that she would have been twirling and jumping if her legs would have let her.  I wish you could have helped me bottle up the radiance.  The freedom.  The joy.  Because I want to drink it in every day. 


I wonder how much she'll remember about this night.  I know it's an experience I'll never forget.  It was a night of ups and downs, of doubt and faith, of struggles and joy.  Oh, the joy.


I came home with a fat lip.
And a full heart.