Biking

Bicycles.  They are the ultimate reflection of an American childhood.  The joy, the pain.  The struggle, the freedom.  When I was a kid we all had similar bikes.  We started with the banana seat bike with one gear, and rode that thing until it almost fell apart.  We would swap bikes, crash bikes, forget our bikes, and occasionally have them run over by the station wagon.  I grew up in a flat city, so the whole place was open to me from the beginning.  I am pretty sure I rode my bike to first grade, and beyond.  Summer was the ultimate bike time.  We would meet in gangs and ride around for hours.  To the park, to the pool, and to the store for nickle candy.  When I got big enough I got to ride my mom's three speed.  Wow!  My dad had a FIVE speed, but I was never tall enough with that darn top bar in the way.  As a teen I begged and begged, and finally got a new-fangled 10 speed.  Life was good. 

Unconsciously, when I had my own kid, I was expecting bicycles.  Sure, times had changed and banana seat bikes not longer ruled the driveways, but kids still ruled on bicycles.  I saw it with my friends kids, and around the neighborhood. I had my expectations, and then life happened.

Easy bike riding was not in the cards.  Alex got his tricycle at about the same time as other kids, except he would not go near it.  Flat refusal.  Other kids were laughing, riding, zooming.  This did not sway him.  For months and seasons we tried everything.  No go.  Or, shall I say, slow go.  Eventually  he came round.  Eventually he totally loved his tricycle.  He rode that thing long past the time other kids had graduated to bikes.  And he had a bike.  A cute one just his size with training wheels and all.  Plus he had rode since near birth behind his dad's bike in trailers of all kinds.  Yet he had no desire to bike on his own.  He rode his tricycle, or nothing.  His bike sat, and he outgrew it.  He got another one.  He ignored this too.  We got him a tag-along when he outgrew the trailers, and he could ride behind his dad.  Quite the strong legs too, and he loved the down hills.  But he refused to ride on his own.  We would bribe him.  Take him to a nice parking lot, with cones to aim at, and cookies to earn.  He would ride for a minute, or two.  Then be done.  He outgrew his tricycle.  But the bicycle with training wheels was just too much.  Too much balance.  Too much to add steering, and braking, and coordinating what to do when the speed ran out and you had to put your feet down.

You see, a bicycle is mindbogglingly complex.  A lot like life.  And he was not on the time-table of "all the other kids".  In my rational mind I knew that not ALL the other kids had mastered the bicycle years before.  But in my heart it felt like it.  When he was eight, and most of the other kids were old pros at the bike, it left me sad.  Isolated.  And defeated.  It was not fair.  How come all the other kids got it.  Or, more importantly, how come my kid didn't.  Of course it was me who was off track.  Asking the wrong question.  It wasn't about the other kids.  It wasn't about Alex.  It wasn't even about me.  It was about life.  One of the many ups and downs of life that take us along for the ride.  My husband and I took a new tack with the bicycle thing.  We got Alex a balance bike.

We decided the key issue in biking was balance that he could control.  On a tricycle, or a tag along, or even a bike with training wheels, you never really had to balance.  And balance was what Alex lacked.  If he was ever to ride a "real" bike, we had to help him develop that balance.  They make balance bikes for 18 month olds, as a first step towards super early biking.  Well, we had missed that window, but we followed the idea and used regular bicycles stripped of pedals and gearing.  And it worked.  He thought it was fun.  You keep the seat real low and move the bike by running it, then lift your feet when it's going good.  He got it.  He didn't exactly love it, or go and do it on his own, but he would be game any time we required him to do it.  Somewhere in there we bought a scooter too, but that was even less interesting for him.  So we used it as a choice, "We are heading to the bike path, you can use the scooter or your balance bike....".  I guess it had a use as the worse alternative.

And that is where we stood for the last two summers.  Balance biking around.  Even heading out to the trails from time to time.  Last fall Kevin hit on the perfect bike to move up to.  BMX.  One gear, to alleviate complication.  One hand brake, for the same reason.  And a solid construction that can go anywhere.  He searched around and found a used bike.  Then he worked on getting the right components.  By the time it was mostly perfected, the snow had come.

Now it is spring.  Yesterday was the day to see where we were at.  With nervous stomachs and hopeful hearts we took Alex down to a huge flat parking lot near Lake Superior.  He did not argue.  There were no tears.  He was resigned, and willing.  Kevin got him going, holding the back of the bike like millions upon millions of parent before him.  Running along, holding him up, until he was not holding up anymore, and then he was not even holding him.  Alex was off, faster than Kevin could run, going for the far side of the lot.  Turning on his own, controlling his speed, staying away from the few parked cars.  Balancing.  Balancing and pedaling.  Looking and planning, coming around to us, and going out again.  It was a beautiful thing. 

Keep your eye out for us.  We will be biking.  Getting that balance locked in.  Working on starts and stops.  Trying out different terrain.  Learning about falling, and hopefully getting up again.  Moving at our own speed, and doing our best to enjoy the ride along the way.

Biking, I think we finally gotcha. 

Peace out-  Beth

California Dreamin'

We are back!  From Minnesota, to California, and back again.  We have been assessed, examined, tested, and taught.  We have just returned from the world renowned Koegel Autism Center at UCSB, and life is good.  It is not easy.  It is not straight forward.  It is not complete.  But it is good.  Very, very good.  

We went for four days of assessment and training.  For Alex, and for Kevin and I too.  The Koegel Center believes in teaching the parents along with the kiddos, so that treatment can be delivered round the clock at home, and everyone is on the same page.  A novel idea in a world of specialization where your kid with challenges is usually whisked away to private therapy, and parents are often seen as a bother.   PRT is the title of their method, Pivotal Response Treatment.  Developed by the Koegels, this treatment is both research based and highly effective.  In September I attended their international PRT conference as both a parent and potential practitioner, and found the Koegel's to be the real deal.  Myself, Alex's para-professional, and 300 others from the US and abroad learned in depth about the modality, and the latest research findings.  In November our families number was finally up, and after waiting for two years to get into the Center we were able to plan a week long treatment visit.  On the eve of February Winter Break we left on our journey.

What was it like?  Well, the preparation process and the first day of testing and examination were like being ground up into hamburger.  We went over every deficit our son has.  He was a wreck, and so were his mom and dad.  But we all got through it.  The Center itself was calming.  On the edge of the University of California, Santa Barbara campus, a sun washed quiet building surrounded by giant Eucalyptus trees.  The staff were kind and prepared, expert and confident. The lead clinician and assessment director, Dr Ty Vernon, was adept at getting the best out of Alex.  The panel of tests they chose covered every area of intellect, development, and cognition.  Alex was given ample breaks, and quality cheer-leading.  Kevin was in for every moment of the tests.  I was in another room, reviewing every step of Alex's history, as well as all of his current functioning.  While perfectly handled, the process was still exhausting, and we left the first day in a numb state.  USCB is on it's own peninsula, completely self contained about 5 miles from Santa Barbara proper.  We drove into town, and had a lovely meal at the original Sambo's restaurant.  Then we went for a walk along the beach.  Alex was already recovering and got his toes right in the ocean.  He smiled and smiled, and we knew it would all be worth while.  Our beach adventure finally ended when a small wave got our boy, he sat in the surf wet to the chest, and we all laughed and laughed.

The next morning Alex did not want to go back.  He told me he did not like the tests because they were too hard.  It had also been very hard on Kevin, watching Alex flounder in conceptual and spatial areas.  Seeing exactly where deficits lie.  It seems our boy is good at skating by what he cannot do, and redirecting into other areas.  We may have been assuming too much, and not seeing the forest for the tree in front of us.  Just what we needed to know, but hard to see so blatantly.  Hard, but good.  Day 2 actually went better than the previous day, less exhaustion as the testing wrapped up and excitement as we looked forward to getting to the training part.  I had some break time to go out into campus, which was fun, and then came a big thrill for me.  In the halls of the Center I ran into Dr. Lynn Koegel.  The co-founder and clinical director of the Center.  Dr of Educational Psychology and Speech Language Pathologist.  Autism researcher for 20 years.  Author of countless articles, manuals, and books.  Also seen on Super Nanny.  National and International expert in autism.  I met her, and she is amazing.  Kind, focused, intense, and interesting.  We had a wide ranging conversation that covered Alex, autism, our family, education, PRT, and my own masters pursuits.  During this time she met Alex as he went by with Kevin, and she conversed with him as well.  You could see her awareness and focus hone in on him like a laser.  An intelligent, experienced, and curious laser that relayed information to a highly specialized brain.  Her eyes lit up, and as he traveled on with Kevin she commented to me that we had done very well with him.

We went to the beach at the end of Day 2.  A beach near the university.  We all breathed a huge sigh of relief.  The testing was over, and we had survived.  Two more days were to come, all tailored training for our whole family.  Ty told us many things at the end of the day, but I had to file them away for that moment.  I was too stunned at the conversation, comments, and assessment of Dr Koegel.  "We had done very well with him."  Like an arrow to my heart, it was what I had hoped to hear, and feared I would not.  All the work and study, time and effort were paying off.  My perceptions were not off.  Our hopes had good basis.  This from one of the leading lights in the field.

As we played on the beach I mulled it all over while Alex chased sea gulls and waves, and Kevin took pictures.  The message I distilled from that day was that our sweet boy was doing fine, and we would find a way.  A way to follow our dreams.  Our parental dreams that our son will be able to have, make, and follow dreams of his own.  The assessment was over, and the bright future lay ahead.

Camp

 The Miracle continues.  Alex had a fantastic time at camp.  His first overnight camp has been accomplished and it was marvelous.  It has all come together so neatly.  I was supposed to work while he was dropped off by his dad, but I was able to get out early and join them on the way to camp.  We got there early, because his dad was in charge, and he was the first kid from his cabin to arrive.  His best friend arrived shortly thereafter, and they were able to pick top bunks next to one another.  What joy!  Lucas had the bunk in the corner on the left, Alex was to his right.  I could imagine from the start these little boys chatting with each other from bunk to bunk, trying to get to sleep at night, waking up in the morning light.  Such adventure.  They could not wait for their families to leave. 

Notice Yoda in on the bunk too.  Lucas forgot any stuffed friends, but said, "I'll be all right."

 

Birch Cabin.  Bunks and a fireplace.  And boys, boys, boys.

So leave we did.  It was hard.  Kevin had to just about drag me away.  I wanted to stay, and spy, and be part of camp too.  But I left.  Took a deep breath, and left.  You are supposed to let them fly, right? 

And fly they did.  Alex must have, by the smile on his face when we returned three days later.  And dare I say, he stood a bit taller too.  I don't know how easy or hard it was for him.  But from the report from his counselor he did great, and Lucas did too.  I may have to scan Alex's letter from his counselor in some day, it had so much good stuff in it.  He participated in camp.  He did all the activities and loved them all.  He even rode a horse this time, and went on a trail ride through the woods.  At day camp that was the one thing he refused.  He finally did it, for 150 bravery points.  He got up early every day to play field games, cleaned up in the dining room, sang all the songs, and even ate a hot dog.  Somehow he kept track of all his stuff, never even lost his retainer, and got from place to place with out an aide.   He even bought a Camp Miller sweatshirt with his birthday money at the camp store, all on his own.  Let's not forget the swimming too, and kayaking as well.  And most of his time paling around with his best friend.  Activities all day, and big campfires at night with songs and s'mores.  There is so much I don't know, but am taking it on faith that the staff was not just blowing sunshine, and he really did great.  They both did.   Alex did not hit the archery target yet, unlike Lucas, but he did not seem disheartened.  The weather was beautiful.  The bugs were minimal.  He climbed the tower, and won a game of Ga-ga.  And then the "week" was over.  We came to pick him up, and have a closing picnic.  He was whole, and healthy, and not traumatized a bit.  Lucas was smiling, they remain fast friends.

 It was a mini-camp, three nights and days, so the numbers were small and the campers were all young.  The perfect size start.  Lots of counselors in blue, and their T-shirts read "Professional Role Model" across the back.  There was a camp fire to close with, of course, because that is what we do in Camp in America.  Time for skits, songs, and awards.

Preparing for the stage.

Birch Cabin got to do their skit "Pebbles".

Counselors singing a goofy song.

The crowd singing it back.

The Dynamic Duo with their First Year Camper ribbons.

Our happy Camper.

Respect.  Honesty.  Responsibility.  Caring.  Those are the four core values at Camp, and he did well with all of them.  He was sad one night, his first I think. Sad and homesick.  Sad enough to bring in his day camp counselor from another cabin.  I can imagine it.  She was called in for rescue.  She took him outside, and they walked, talked, sat down.  He must have been exhausted, ready to run for home.  But he didn't.  She calmed him, and sent him to bed.  And that was it.  Our one bump in the road, and then back to camp as usual with his best friend.  No special staffing.  No extra support.  One great friend, to whom I will be eternally grateful, and one great program.  Half a week away from home.  Under the big pines.  On the water.  Learning how to adventure, and learn, and laugh on his own.  Having a good friend, being a good friend, and learning to slot in with a whole group of awesome people.  If he can do this, what else might the future hold?

Once Upon a Time, on the Way to the Circus...

Once upon a time, I would have loved to go to the circus.  (That was when I was a child.)  Once upon a time, I would have scoffed at the idea of going to the circus.  (That was when I was too enlightened to go to a circus.)  Once upon a time, I was shut out from the circus.  (That was when I could not go if I wanted to because my son could NOT handle it.)  Once upon a time, I went to the circus.  (And here is what happened...)

My son looked up as we were driving down the freeway and said, "I want to go to the circus."  I looked back quickly and said, "What?!"  He repeated himself, and I believed my ears as I scanned the area and saw the billboard.  "Okay!",  I yelled.  Even if I had known the circus was coming to town, I doubt I would have asked Alex to go.  I had gotten so habituated to his turning down flat every offer of anything most kids would die for, that I had all but given up.  He is eight, and had never been to an arena event.  Had no interest when Barney came to town, or Thomas the Train.  No Walk With the Dinosaurs, or Wiggles concert.  Not even a concert of the Lollypop variety.  We did get through a few Movies in the Park, but that has been about it for kid events.  Not that I have been that sad.  All these things are usually too consumer oriented, too expensive, too crowded, too long of a wait, too loud, or all of the above.  I thought I was okay about missing all that.  I would hear about other families going to those events and figure I hadn't really missed much.  Not really.  Probably sucked anyways.  Would have been a nightmare if we had gone.  No worries.  I'm cool.

All those "too's"  fell by the wayside when my fabulous boy spied that sign on his own, read it on his own, and made his own decision.  I was pumped.  But also cautious.  A rather loud voice in my head piped up with, "You are going to have to leave early.  He might not even make it through the door.  He has run from every clown he ever met.  You must be nuts."  I tried very hard to ignore that voice, but I was torn, so I dragged my feet.  Weeks went by.   By circus weekend Friday the tickets were still not bought.  Kevin had to go on an adventure to secure them, and bless him, he did.  We were both prepared that if we had to bail, we would just consider the $35 buck a donation to the Shriners.  Alex was a bit of a mess Circus morning.  He was trying to back out, and we were not letting him.  I thought of Temple Grandin's advice that you must stretch your kiddo with autism, and I thought about the PRT strategy of offering choices.  So, I told him he had to go, but he could choose if we stayed for half of it, or if we stayed for more.  There were tears.  There was fuss.  The refrain, "I told you so." rolled through my head.  We went to the circus anyways.

It was great.  Not too crowded.  Not too loud.  No long waits.  No sales pitches we couldn't dodge.  The tears hadn't even left the house with us.  Kevin and I were much more nervous than our boy.  He looked around.  He checked things out.  He even had some spontaneous questions.  He pointed things out and kept his eyes on the action.  Never once asked to leave, or showed any distress.  Except when a surprise firecracker went off when a balloon was shot with an arrow.  We whipped out his earmuffs, and he threw them on and didn't miss a beat.  We did also stack the deck a bit by sitting pretty far back from the action, but I don't think he suffered by that.

The performances were fun.  There were white tigers, prancing horses, mighty elephants, and pretty girls.  He really seemed to like the kid his age who was flipped around by his dad, jumped off a swinging platform into a net, and got to juggle fire.  He was spell bound by the motorcycles that drove upside down in a steel ball, and the  high flying gals on circle trapeze, silk ropes, and rings.  The pace was good, but not too crazy.  The sound was just right.

He didn't ask to go on the floor before the show to ride the elephants or ponies or go down the big slide.  He didn't want his picture at half time with the performers, the clowns, the tiger, or a snake.  He didn't ask for junk food (we got him some anyways) or beg for the plastic light up junk.  So I guess we are a bit off the pace for normal, but really not too bad.  I am hoping there will be discussion and questions ongoing.  We bought the program and coloring book to help that happen.  Maybe I will look up circus books at the library.  Yeah, I guess I will.   I have to admit, I already snuck in an "I told you so" or two.  I couldn't help myself, and he does seem rather proud of himself now.

The circus!  The circus?  The circus.  Once upon a time we went to the circus, and I never knew we would.  It feels like we are turning the corner.  Heading in a good direction.  Doing great.  The skeptic in me feels nervous, but the rest of me feels fine.  Maybe even more than fine.  Only time will tell, of course.  Tell if this is a blip, or this is the future.   Tell if this is a starting point, or just a high point.   I have felt fine before, and then gotten creamed, so I wont be taking any bets.  But I have a hopeful feeling, and I look forward to seeing what is around the next corner.  I guess I will just keep walking on towards the future, whatever it may hold.  Elephants, pretty girls, tigers, and all.

Interesting Developments

Overall, it would be really helpful to have a typical child first, and then have a child with autism.  If you got to choose, that would be the ticket.  As it is, I am never quite sure where we stand at my house as far as development goes.  I know we used to be way behind in many things, especially social and emotional development, but then over the last few years I have often felt like we are catching up. Once upon at time, we worried that our child would never speak.  Now we worry that he never shuts up.  Once upon a time, we worried that he would never engage in pretend play.  Now we have a hard time stopping him from pretending.  Once upon a time we bemoaned the fact that all toys were ignored in favor of light switches and sliding glass doors.  Now our house looks like a toy bomb went off in it.  And once upon a time we worried that he would never engage in play with peers.  Today, I am currently exhausted from two days of non-stop play between Alex and his great second grade friend Lily (which happens to be his current grade too.)  It must be noted that she is a very tolerant play mate, but the fact can't be ignored that they played for hours in a cabin out in the woods.  They played pirates on the bunk beds.  They talked back and forth on walkie-talkies.  They made a cave in a closet. They built things with the cushions and furniture.  They played hide-and-seek, and ghosts in the grave yard,  and let's push snow into a creek, and now we'll stir muck up with sticks in the pond.  They PLAYED, and I barely had to prompt or intervene.  I am happy, and tired, and loopy, and giddy.  But I still don't know exactly where we are.  Because then the other mom said, "I don't know how you do it, you are so good at working with him."

Oh, how I hate statements like that.  Not because they are not genuine, or even because they are not true.  More because they are true.  My son takes a lot of work, and he takes more work than other kids his age, but I tend to forget that fact.  In our day to day world of hard work and accomplishments I celebrate the forward movement, and file the rest in the circular file.  And I truly forget, at times, that we are on a very different path.  But reality always comes back, and actually it is not that bad.  It is just that right now, my son talks incessantly, more like a four year old than an eight year old.  He is constantly asking questions, which is wearing and thrilling at the same time.  Because he didn't do that back when he was four.  We had other things going on then, so now we get that barrage while other parents are enjoying the quiet of constant readers or game players or i-pod listeners.  And really, it is all good.  Every real question he initiates moves him towards a bright future, keeps me smiling, and makes all the work worthy.  And although part of me hates reminders that we are not typical, there is another part that does not care, and even has a growing pride in our accomplishments and his hard battled development.  Every new stage is a victory to be celebrated, and I need to remember that most of all.
   
Which leads me to my current amusements, and the reason I started writing in my near exhaustion state.  Alex has started initiating more and more novel things over the last year, trying things rather than staying in his safety zone.  Branching out in new and interesting ways, often when I least expect it.  So, what now?  Well, after getting home from our long days of adventure I figured he would mostly be ready for bed once he was back to his routine.  Imagine my surprise, when after his bath he says, "I'm going to do secret things.  Stay here.".  Outside he goes, in boots and pajamas.  I see him scouting around the yard.  A few minutes later Kevin comes in and says, "He's digging."  "Really, where?"  "In your garden."  So, I go to peek out the window, and there he is, digging in the empty garden.  Then he stops, goes and picks up a tin pot, chucks the contents on the ground, and takes it to the hole.  He then turns it upside down and covers the hole.  That, for me was amusing and amazing enough.  Far from his typical safety zone, and well into territory I had always hoped and dreamed he would gravitate to.  He was building a secret entrance to a spy lair, and in spy fashion, he said nothing about it when he came back in.  But the best was yet to come.   When I took the garbage out later, there was a potted plant on top of the pot.  He had gone into the kitchen at some point, and picked out a plant that would make the entrance look less conspicuous.  I am just worried that he and his dad might really build a secret room down there, and half hoping they will.

So, life on the autism spectrum is anything but dull.  I never know what to expect, but as long as I can see good progress and get good laughs along the way, I know we are doing fine.

Seventeen Below

It was seventeen degrees below zero this morning when I got Alex on the bus.  Cold enough to try to make some snow, but alas, not quite cold enough.  To do so you take a boiling hot cup of water and throw it in the air, if it is cold enough it comes down as snow.  Too warm, and it only splits into steam and water.   It was too warm.  So warm that it made it up to five degrees above zero by 10am.  Bummer for making snow, but the perfect temp and time for an adventure.

Jack and I went out to hike a river.  There is a beautiful little one not far from my house called the Lester.  It was so bright and sunny that it almost hurt my eyes.  Dazzling as we crunched down the banks and into the main river, all sparkly with zillions of refracted snowflake diamonds.  The sky was blue, the rocks a mix of brown and red, and may an evergreen all around.  Very beautiful.  And exciting too.  To be out on a river, walking over the water, and hearing it trickle and run below your feet.  The sound of running water under snow and ice is hard to describe, unique and electric.  I have fallen through the ice in the past a few times, which is also unique and electric.  Jack had a riot.

He ran and ran.  Bounced and explored.  Up the river banks, and down again.  Through the woods, and following the game trails.  Then back to the river bed to run ahead.  He is beautiful to watch as he runs, and glides, and occasionally prances.  He likes the snow.  And not a single snow ball in his paws today.

It was good to get out.

In His Own Time

I have worried about Alex and his swimming for many years now.  Not a big worry, but a little one that sits in the back of my brain and whispers sweet paranoia to me.  "He's not progressing.",  "He doesn't swim like the other kids.", "Look, he wont even put his head under water.", "Ha, he hates it when you try to teach him to swim... he will never learn.".  Now, I have not put a lot of stock in these whisperings, but I can't deny that they have been there.  Alex went to swim lessons a summer ago and was truly lack luster.  His biggest accomplishment was doing the monkey cling along the deep end, and occasionally getting his chin wet on purpose.  One of his best friends was going all the way under water when she was two, and by now has practically swum the English Channel.  Alex is generally a cling-on, not letting go of me for much of anything.  Yes, that is the summary of his swimming at age 2, and 3, and 4, and 5.  This summer things got a little better, "swimming" in his life jacket, actually enjoying the water, and venturing a bit beyond my shadow from time to time.  He played a shark game at his Aunty Snootz' pool that had him swimming all over in his life jacket, and then last month in Wausau he went under water on purpose and for real for the first hundred times.  He was inspired by his Uncle Craig, Aunt Kathy, and cousins Will and Abby.  Yes, it takes a village to get my kid swimming.  But yesterday we were in Amity Creek, and I couldn't get him to go five inches from me or swim a stroke on his own.  

And then came this evening.  This evening was jackpot time.  First, Lake Superior was warm.  Not tolerable, not just-less-than-freeze-your-butt-off, but actually bath water warm.  Last week it was frigid.  I didn't really want to go tonight but figured it would be a nice quick trip.  Oh, how wrong I was, and happy to say so.  It was warm, warm, warm.  We swam out to the rock, climbed the rock, and Alex jumped from ankle deep into a deep spot (with life jacket on) after announcing, "To infinity and beyond!".  He also watched the high school boys swim deep and bring up big rocks.  It made an impression because when I made him come into the shallows he started trying to pick up rocks.  After working hard at swimming with his face in the water.  I could barely believe what I was seeing.  I was happy.  I was ready to head home for dinner.  I took his life jacket off so he could pick up a few rocks and we could go.  To my great surprise and delight he dunked under water, and stayed under, and SWAM under water, popping up with ease and starting all over again.  And again, and again.  He did not go over his head, but he did not have to.  He swam, and swam, and swam.  He cruised the shore line at about 3 feet deep, checking out rocks, staying parallel, turning back if he went to far or turned a little towards the deeps.  He did not do it because a teacher asked him to.  He did not do it because I begged, or threatened, or bribed.  He did it because he wanted to.  Because it delighted him.  Because it was fun.  He swam, and twirled,  floated, and snuck up and grabbed my foot under water.  He even swam between my legs when I was talking with a friend who showed up.  That made us both laugh really hard so he did it another five times.   He swam and swam, we were late for dinner, and he assured me that he very much wants to do it again tomorrow. 

The Days of Pooh

I have loved my son since the day he was born.  Loved him so deeply and fiercely that sometimes it takes my breath away.  Every day in so many ways, it continues to amaze me.  He is always changing.  I remember when he was just a tiny baby at two months old.  That was him.  I could not conceptualize that he would ever change, and when a savvy co-worker gave me 12months and 2T outfits for a shower I panicked.  Those clothes were so big and foreign.  Would he still be adorable?  Would he be a stranger?  How could he ever change so much?  How would I ever know enough to handle such a giant?  Granted I was sleep deprived at the time and rather fragile, but the concerns were real even if the fears were over the top.  

Drop in six odd years later and I have come to terms with a few things.  My son will grow, and change, and still be magic in my eyes.  Some time frames will be good, some time frames will be bad, and we will get through it all with love and life in tact.  That said I am feeling a bit of that old panic tonight.

Tonight was golden.  The evening of Father's Day.  I worked all day and the boys had some marvelous adventures.  When I got home I took our son off Daddy's hands, and took him for a river swim.  We met up with boating friends who all managed to spawn at the same time.  All of different ages, situations, and locales, four families ended up with kiddos traveling the same grade, and we meet up every season or more for various adventures.  Tonight it was taking the kids "swimming" at a bend in the Knife River, a quiet Northwoods spot, not well traveled or much disturbed.  It was the perfect spot for a kindergarten adventure.  They do not need to go far to find adventure.  Being out of sight of the car, and away from the trail is a thrill.  Crossing calf deep water running mildly down rapids was enough for each of them to cling and squeal.  Once we got to the pool with some currant at the far side I took to ferrying the little tykes across a six foot section of chest deep water (for them) so each could scramble up near the cliff wall.  They would stand dripping and proud, looking about with big eyes, deciding if they wanted to jump back into my arms or just take a hand and try to flounder across.  It was exciting and heart pounding, for kids and adults.  I found myself counting them over and over as we all spread out a bit, making sure the ducklings were safe.  They are still small enough to need that, and they stay close enough for it to be possible.  Not a one strong enough or confident enough to really swim or duck dive in the four feet deep moving water.  Moving lazily in the pool, but still moving, and absolutely impossible to see through.  All my old lifeguard skills perked up.  And I was busy with fun too.

There was much ferrying, but also spins through the water, assisted jumps straight out of the water, traverses below mini-rapids, and piggybacks across the stones.  The little ones are still so tactile.  There was Alex, his best buddy from school Lily, Carver a little blondie, and Elaina the peanut.  Too excited to talk, mostly they would just flounder over and point or gesture where, or what.  They are not quite up to my chest, so my height was a big advantage for their swimming experience.  Plus I was one of the first parents in so I didn't mind getting soaked in the play.  We caught the last of the afternoon sun as we got in the first river swim of the year.  Alex loved it, and I see lots of potential for river or creek swims yet this summer.  Tomorrow is the solstice, and we are just getting started.

And then there is Pooh.  Alex likes to say, "Oh, bother.", when something does not go right, and he often talks about Pooh, and Piglet, and Eeyore.   He wants to know what will happen if he gets blown by the wind when holding onto a string, or if there are Woozles or Heffalumps under the bed.  Sometimes he even says, "Tiddley pom", or "Tut tut, looks like rain.".   Often he says, "Mama, I am rumbly in my tumbly."  And his little friends are right there too.  They are in the age of discovery, wondering at the Hundred Acre Woods.  Innocent as Pooh, scared as Piglet, brave as Tigger.  I saw it in their faces on the river.  Their joy at being there, their dawning realization of the wider world.  Excitement at the splash of water and miracle of swimming skills.  And their exhaustion at the end of the short adventure.  The help needed with wet suits and tired emotions.  The little hands seeking out mom or dad, needing steadiness and strength, wanting warmth and security.  The adventure wrapped up with kids bouncing about in their orbits, and parents making plans.  Then we all parted ways and it was me and my Alex.  My wonderful, innocent, Pooh loving Alex.  And this is where the panic comes in.  I love this age so much I fear the future, where he will not have Pooh as his hero.  When he leaves behind Piglet and takes up with Mario, or a Power Ranger, or something worse.  I wonder if I am destined to be always missing the Age of Pooh.  I wonder if he will change into something totally different as he grows.  I wonder if the real world will tarnish him in a way the Hundred Acre Woods never could.  I wonder if I will be able to keep him safe once he's too big to need to hold my hand.  That is exactly when the world gets it's most dangerous.

But for now he is still in my safe keeping.  I keep a weather eye on him, as do all the other good big people in his life.  I am loving all our adventures, and really do look forward to him growing up so we can go further, and faster, with just as much fun.  Maybe I will get lucky.  Maybe he will always have a soft spot for the silly old bear.  Maybe the world will keep him as safe as I want him to be.  Maybe he will have more good judgment than I ever had.  Maybe the older me will discover like the younger one did, this panic too shall pass.

It Really Happened

I still can't quite believe that Kevin and I went to Jamaica.  An amazing late winter trip, just us, while our son stayed home in Minnesota and went to school.  One of the perks of being an adult I suppose.  It was a truly incredible trip, from the frozen North to a tropical paradise.  We stayed at a resort just for couples that was "all inclusive".  No need for money while there, not for the activities or the abundant and delicious food and drinks, or even the top notch service.  I felt like a princess.  And it was like a time machine back to dating.  All exterior pressures were on hold for one glorious week.  We missed our son like crazy, and I don't know that we can ever leave him behind like that again, but it was a nice bit of heaven.  Here are a few pics to start the story, I will post more as I get them processed and ordered.

It turned out to be windy for the entire time we were there, so we took advantage of the waves and learned to boogie board.  It was fun, and exhilarating, exhausting, and a pure riot.  We got out once or twice almost every day.

We were on the western tip of Jamaica, along a beautiful beach, at a resort called Couples Negril.  I have never stayed at such a place.  More of a Low Budget kind of traveler, this was a style that was not difficult to get used to.  The Jamaican staff were lovely and perfect, the food to die for, and the resort itself was built into the site like a residence in  the Garden of Eden.  Every need was anticipated, from food to drink, to entertainment, to down time.  We feasted and experimented.  I ate curried goat and smoked marlin.... both delicious.  Sorry PETA, I have really surrendered my card now.

Oh yeah, and there was this guy I used to know.  I think I married him awhile back, but with the pressures of child raising, Autism, business, house holding, day jobs, infertility, and a generally wild schedule our marriage had been on the back burner for quite awhile.  This trip was the Honeymoon we never had, and the 10 wedding anniversary trip we didn't take.  We have been married over 11 years now, and this retreat together was fully appreciated and celebrated.  

And like a fairy tale.  A resort to tend to all of our needs, built like a palace, filled with interesting people.  I was not sure what the guests would be like, and they were super.  Many other appreciative folks, taking a break from their busy schedules and enjoying a bit of paradise.  The staff were great too, and having worked in the tourism and guest services industries, including house keeping, I did not feel too bad taking advantage of their hard work and expert attention.  I was a bit like non-stop theater, with the staff as the actors and the guests as the interactive audience.  It was a well directed and well  preformed, Broadway quality for sure.  

More to come....

You Can't Win for Losing

On the way to pre-school we stopped at the bank. When we came out the boarder collie was sitting in the back seat eating Alex's peanut butter sandwich. Jack had unzipped the backpack, opened the lunch sack, taken the bag of chips and put it on the seat, fished out the sandwich, unwrapped it, ate the first half, and was starting on the second. He looked both ashamed and proud when busted. It was too far to go home and we were going to be late, so we stopped at the nearest store to get a loaf of bread and new peanut butter. I took the backpack with us. At pre-school the story was told, a new sandwich made, and chuckles all around. They eat outside in summer, so Jack came to visit, kept on a leash from all the little lunches. Jack and I then went to the next stop, the grocery store for real. I now had a dilema, as there was no secure place in the Subaru for a loaf of bread and a new jar of peanut butter. I could have tied Jack to his seat, but I didn't want to do that. Taking the items into the store would have been too much to explain. So I stuck them on the roof. Went in and did a pretty good shopping trip. When I came out I noticed my goofy loaf of bread on top of my car, and Jacks face in the window. As I got closer I saw that the bag was opened, from the top. I looked at Jack, knowing he is smart and talented, but not that smart and talented. I looked around again, and then realized the local culprit who would rip open a bag from above. Yes, Duluth has seagulls. I laughed all the way home.

My Favorite Part

Rowan all geared up.

On my wonderful Wausau trip I had many excellent experiences. Many. But my absolute favorite was getting my dear friend Shereen's boys into boats. Rowan, her oldest, was very interested and because of that we made it happen. During lunch on the second racing day I got him all geared up and we went down to the flat water to try it out. We even got his little brother to try after a bit. Rowan had very good instincts and was not afraid. He had good paddle strokes and a nice sense of boat handling. Look out Shereen, getting in a race boat on flat water at Wausau is exactly how I got hooked!

Two new addicts?!

Room to Breathe

Wow, time is flying. I feel like I just got home from my trip to Wausau, and it has actually been a week. Every moment has been scheduled and this is my first chance to get to my blog. Yowzers. Where to start? Wausau.

Back to my home town. It is always very strange to go back to Wausau. Part of me feels like I never left, but then I run across new stuff all the time. The wonderful, open, grassy square downtown throws me (it used to be a rundown Kresgees). My high school is condos. And there is a new giant building towering over the lagoon where I first sat in a slalom kayak and got totally hooked. My old house looks the same, but the trees are 25 feet taller and much bushier. It is all rather trippy. But also nice and comfortable. I stayed out at the camp I went to as a little kid, that was really cool. And I also stayed with in-laws (my sisters) and friends(my dear friend Jennifer's parents), and that was even better. I met a whole bunch of new paddling folks, and hooked up with many old paddling friends. I was paddling, checking out a slalom clinic, and racing too, and I got lots of on water time. Since I am not as young as I used to be (and not as dumb as I used to be) I stretched every day and did very decent warm ups almost every time I got wet. Not a single injury (knock on wood) and only one power sinus douching. The weather was fine, and the coaching even finer. My biggest problem was my own head, and a fair amount of rusty-ness. I was not very happy with myself for the first four days, but by Sunday I was pulling off some satisfying runs. I was one off in my hoped for finishing places on both days (third not second...out of four), but when it came to the sprint for cash I finally got what I wanted. Second place and $25. What could be finer? I also made it on to the local news (hee-hee).

The whitewater was everything I remembered, and more. They have rearranged the Wausau course over the last few years and there are four new holes. Those were surprising, at first. Then there were the moves the coaches were making us do. Tough, technical, and frustrating. Or I should say, FRUSTRATING. I eventually got every single move that was killing me, at least once, but never quite all together. Oh well, next time. And besides, it was still fun. Or maybe more fun because of that.

And then there were family and friends. I started and ended well. On my first day I got to see my mom, my sister, my niece and nephew, and my sisters in-laws (who are great). In the middle I met up with my old dear friends Shereen and met her boys and her husband. We had an excellent supper and next day I got to get the boys in boats and show them the ropes. They did great! And for the grand finale I stayed with Mom and Dad Davis and my final stop in town was at their new condo (absolutely gorgeous) for a shower, a wonderful bite to eat, and to try and catch the news. No luck, but showed off my medal, hugs all around, and hit the road again. It was quite a week.

I missed my boys terribly while I was gone, and must bring them the next time. It was very odd being out on my own, like I used to do all the time. Especially weird to be at the camp with new people and footloose paddlers my own age. It has probably been a good 10 years since I have done something like that, maybe my last week long instructor clinics. Good to know I can still jump in cold with a group of new people and find my place pretty quickly.

And now, home again home again jiggety jig. I got in last Sunday at midnight and up and out by 8:00am the next morning. We have a chock-a-block activity schedule now so it was all go, all week. And work at night. I kept hoping for no-pay-days but alas, no luck. I did get one...but it was revoked 10 minutes later. Needless to say, I was less than pleased. But I muddled through. Alex is doing really great, his language and concepts are blossoming. We are in at the Scottish Language Clinic for the summer, and moving forward on eating issues with an 8 week feeding clinic. Otherwise know as "Play with your Food!". He even ate a rice crispy bar this week...now that's my boy. And my other "boy" is doing well too. Tired, after sending me to play, but seems quite happy. Looks like our Adaptive work is not so dead, and may simply be in a deep sleep. Will keep you posted.

And now I have a week off. Not a full week, due to some switching, but a good start. Planning on getting a little rest, and a little breathing space. Going camping next weekend, and have our local slalom the next weekend, so still busy, but once I get some downloads in order you can see the grin on my face. Happy summer...

Going to Wausau

It is Spring (at least for another week) and my thoughts have turned to KAYAKING. I held off on the early season paddling this year because I did not trust my shoulder. Early season is high water, remote locations, cold temps, and the need to be spot on. No way I could get my head around that. So no "Steep Creeking" for me, instead I am all Slalom. It is way more controlled and for some strange reason I just love it. LOVE IT. I was out tuning up the flat water race site last week and finally got in my boat yesterday. It felt good. Kevin and Alex went out hiking with Lucky while I indulged my passion. We have our races here in July, but before that I get an extra adventure. I am off to Wausau to help with a race clinic and race myself, at the end of June. I am so excited I am bouncing!