Jack’s feet are bigger than mine. No more guessing when he’ll pass me up, no more can I slip on his shoes to quickly run the trash out… well I can, but when I tried that on Tuesday night they slipped in the back as I walked. They are new shoes that we bought last week, and they are another half size bigger than his last pair. It means that his feet are bigger than mine. That’s it.
It’s exciting to see Jack growing tall and strong, his face thinning out, and his arms and legs becoming more muscular. His feet will no doubt be as big as his Daddy’s some day. While his Dad did a lot of growing later, in high school, college (even after we were married!) Jack seems more on my trajectory, though at his age I was about half an inch taller than he is now. There’s nothing tiny about our family. There’s height for multiple generations on both sides, and according to some of those estimates Jack may be about 6’7”, and his little sister should end up a little taller than I am at 6 feet.
I’ve known this, that my kids would grow up, because that’s what children do, all children. But I admit I am a little more surprised when I look at my son and realize he is really beginning his teen years.
It is made more difficult when testing comes back and puts some of his skills “at the level of a 2 year-old.” I realize now more than ever, that to be his best advocate, I need to be mindful to downplay the difference between his abilities and his chronological age, and set that example for others. While some of his fine motor skills haven’t caught up, and frankly, might never be more than they are now, I can make sure we are changing out the toddler items with things that are more age appropriate, for example, we are looking for good straw cups that don’t leak, and don’t have little cars and trucks printed on them.
A plane flight with kids is generally on the list of challenging parenting situations. Of course we have flown all together before, several times, but it just seems like the kids were so much smaller last time, more manageable and moveable. Jack has turned into a tween, and those long arms and legs have more strength than they did just a few years ago. I cannot carry him down the aisle of a plane, or manage a heavy bag while holding his hand; if we want him to go somewhere, or sit someplace, he has to want to do it too, or it won’t happen.
That’s why I told Jack about our surprise trip to Southern California to visit family, and that famous mouse. While we left it a secret to his sister, I wanted to make sure that he saw the benefit of getting up while it was still dark. I was hoping that by going through all of the things that would happen he would be more prepared, and more likely to happily participate.
I think it worked because TSA pat downs, and the over-crowded amusement park didn’t seem to faze him. He ate his way through a white table cloth dinner at a fancy steakhouse, and seemed to enjoy zipping about the entire state of California, a different part of our family in each place. Our holidays really could not have gone any smoother.
Jack has grown up a lot over the year. He’s matured. He’s more tolerant, and calmer when he’s in distress. He’s doing a better job of letting us know what he needs, and we are doing a better job at listening. And I’m less anxious, in general, like maybe I do have some of this parenting stuff down now. Specifically, when it comes to travel and airport security, I know we’ve done our best to be organized, follow all of the rules, and leave plenty of time. We try not to “hold up the line” but not if it makes our kids feel rushed. I know that some things will go smoothly, and some things won’t, but chances are we will all make it through relatively unscathed.
And we did. Better than unscathed, we came out happy, with some great memories. Of course there’s still one more drive ahead of us… let’s hope it is as easy as our other travels have been.
Cheers to a great 2012, and the prospect of an exciting 2013.
Well, that's it, this is the last year that Jack is going to fit into one of those one-piece costumes. They have made life so much easier for us, and because they are recognizable characters, it's made it easy for others to figure out what Jack is dressed up as on Halloween because he certainly won’t wear a mask or makeup. His little sister has thankfully switched costumes from Zombie Homecoming Queen (which I did not approve), to a very precious Sock Monkey get-up. I will be dressed as a mom who spent too much money on costumes, and is regretful that she didn't sew anything for her children.
Jack has always had great costumes. He began the tradition as a 1 month old in a Chili Pepper snap up cozy. Then he was a Fireman, a Doctor, Incredible Hulk, and Mr. Incredible. He's also been Spider Man, Bat Man, a Pirate, last year, a Cowboy and this year a character from Star Wars. Something Storm Trooper-ish. I love the fake muscles that are stuffed around his strong thin arms. It was sillier when he was a five-year-old in the Incredible Hulk suit. Now there's less contrast. He’s still wiry from being young, but soon enough his own muscles will be that big.
The dress-up box has become crowded with all of those costumes, and now our second child is getting too big for those smaller play-things. It’s hard to believe that he ever wore that little zip-up fireman outfit. He wore a hat that year, but I realize now that he probably never wanted to wear it, but his little arms couldn’t go above his head to take it off. After years of no hats, he wore another one last year as a cowboy- I was so proud. No masks, no hats, no makeup, simple this year for him and for us.
Halloween is not my favorite celebration. It all seems like so much effort for such a small reward and the evening fraught danger. But our friends have made the entire thing a lot more palatable for me. We will go out tonight with a group of people who love us just as we are, warts and all. Understanding, helpful people who want to include our family. Jack is already being silly as the excitement of the evening draws near. We won’t last long I suppose, but just getting there is most of our battle, any candy we get after that is, well, icing on the cake.
I get a note each night from my son’s teacher. She tells me what he did that day, any struggles he had, and provides information about what’s happening in the classroom and around the school. It's a great way for me to catch up on what he's doing in school, and a great way for each side of the equation to have context for conversation with Jack. When we go out to dinner at his favorite restaurant, I write Jack’s teacher, then she and the aides can ask him questions about what he did the night before. It's also great that the email goes to both my husband and me. So many times in the past I would read Jack’s little journal, or have talked to the teacher when I picked Jack up from school, and that information would never make it all the way back to my husband. It is fantastic for my two favorite guys to have something to ‘talk’ about.
There is the usual update about OT and PT, and how well he walked on their social outing. I love hearing about his art projects, because art isn’t something he likes to do at home. And while I know that they have a yoga class every week, I know that they adapt a lot of the moves for him because he doesn’t really like to sit still, and doesn’t like his body being manipulated in any way. But I’ve seen him stretch out across the lawn, so I know that some of those moves are probably familiar to his body. I have seen him participate in an art class, and watched his hypermobile limbs bend and bend.
But the thing I can’t get over, is that lately I’ve been reading that he “did chores at the end if the day.” Chores? Yes, chores. At school he clears his plate after snack. He wipes down the table. He pushes in his chair. Of course he's doing all of this with help, physical prompts, vocal prompts, and more commonly hand-over-hand. But he is still doing chores. He never does any of that at our house.
This chores thing has come up a few times at our house recently, with my daughter noticing that she is held to a different standard when it comes to cleaning up her messes, and participating in the daily maintenance routines of our house. She hasn’t exactly complained, but she knows that Jack doesn’t have any chores at home. On my best day of parenting, I would create one standard, then adapt that to help Jack meet that standard too.
So now I’m thinking, well why doesn’t he do chores? Shouldn’t he be doing the same things at school and home, so we can reinforce learning? It’s not the first time that he has been capable of a skill in one location but not another. For consistency, I believe he should have standards that are similar to those that are set for him at school, and as he learns in one environment we should see the behavior both at school and at home. This transfer of skills can take time, and I’m aware that Jack is on his own schedule of development. But couldn't there be another thing at play here? I have tried a few times to help him carry his plate to the sink after dinner at home, but with no success.
Maybe this isn’t entirely about skills. Perhaps he just doesn’t want to do chores at all, because what 12 year old really wants to clean up anything? ever?
We knew this day was coming.
It’s not like we hadn’t been warned.
We had been warned and had experienced it a couple times before, thanks to Emma and Brady.
Though sometimes I did wonder if this day would ever come.
That day is here…..
The day that nothing on the couch or other areas within standing/reaching distance is safe from the grabbing hands of a little Miss Carly!
She pulls herself up on the couch and reaches, grabs, and tugs at anything her hands make contact with. Most of the time it’s some type of magazine or perhaps a page or two of Brady’s school work.
Though one time it was MJ’s breakfast bowl and a spoon as well, apparently Miss Carly did not want to wait for her own breakfast, which was warming up in the kitchen.
The poor TV remote has been victimized multiple times as Miss Carly loves to grab it and then toss it behind her back.
Not only can she pull herself to grab items, she now has the ability to “walk” down the length of the couch and hunt down any and all other items she can find.
As Depeche Mode once sang “The grabbing hands grab all they can”
So while the couch is no longer a Carly free zone, you will not find a single member of the family who is disappointed by it.
This is the busiest time of year when it comes to parenting my son Jack. Once we’ve gone through the usual back to school, adjusting to schedules after the glories of summer we enter the month of October, when every agency checks in with our family. As we have gone through these 12 years we have managed to collect several social workers, a state doctor, occupational therapists, physical therapists, a behavioral psychologist, a program director, teachers, aides, and of course his pediatrician and dentist.
Just scheduling the appointments can be hard enough, but sitting through them has not always been easy. Part of the conversation always includes Jack’s deficits. Always. Obviously that’s why we are meeting, because we need resources for my son that people with more typical children don’t need. Obviously. And you would think that after all these years it would be easier for me to either have a canned story, or just steel myself for the conversation, but I hate it every time.
In spite of the fact that we have very kind, diligent state employees attached to our records, my stomach tightens with the approach of each appointment. I do my best to create some balance, sharing the positive growth that Jack has had over the year, but it almost always must settle on the needs he still has.
I don’t take it personally now. I know that the criteria is there for a reason, and that it has nothing to do with my particular child, but I am also much more conscientious about what is said in front of my son, and what I tell him if we do speak in front of him. If he must be in the room then I explain what we are going to talk about, that it might be sort of personal, and that we are talking about it so he can get the right accommodations. He knows he has struggles, that he needs help, so I’m sure he’s pleased when he hears that his aide will still be funded, and that he will get a more structured seat for dining at home, but he doesn’t need to hear anyone going through a checklist of all of those needs.
If he laughs at our jokes, chances are he’s understanding all of the other stuff that is said around him too.
Miss Carly has braces, for her shoes, which will help learn how to walk. She has been walking, with assistance, around the house and at school. She is slowly getting the hang of it but still has problems staying upright as she wants to fall right down on her tushy.
Everything looks good as she takes each step. Her left leg initially turned in a lot, however; she is making progress and the turn is not as noticeable.
She is also using her braces to pull herself upright on the edge of the couch and she is able to move side to side down the length of the couch.
Before you know it, she will be walking around and chasing the cat around the house!
Looking forward to having her walk the Buddy Walk, next year, rather than cruise the course in her stroller.
“Can you hear me?”
“Can you hear me?” I whisper behind Carly’s left shoulder.
“Can you hear me?” This time I say it a little louder and a bit further away.
She swivels her head and gives me a big smile.
Not bad hearing for a little girl who is supposedly has no hearing in her left ear, at least that’s what the doctor says.
It is hard, as a parent, to not get caught up in what the medical world says about what your child can or cannot do.
I know that Carly has major hearing loss in her left ear and it may or may not be corrected by placing a tube into her left ear canal. She had them in both ears but somehow the left one decided to come out without us knowing.
I also believe that she will hear every word I say.
I wonder if this is me and my positive view on life or I am being naïve about the fact that my daughter may not hear me at all.
Do I start to learn more and more sign language so that I can communicate with her if she does have hearing loss?
Or do I continue to be positive and use my voice and words to communicate with her?
The more I think about it, the more I realize that the best way is both ways. I need to learn more sign so that I am not limiting the ability for Carly and I to talk. And I most continue to use my words and voice so that she can understand how much her Daddy loves her.
Birthday. Birthday. Birthday. It used to be hard to plan Jack’s birthday. When he was one, two, three, no problem, we just threw house parties to thank all the people in our lives who had supported Jack and our family through sleepless nights and therapies. Then there was a good six years there when everyone else was having jump house parties and happy gym crawl around things, and acrobatics hoopla that just didn’t work for us. And they really didn’t work for Jack. I was just at a loss as to how to celebrate Jack’s day of birth in a way that actually honored him instead of just meeting some kind of social norm.
We figured out how to do school … I take unfrosted cupcakes and jars of frosting with dull knives and let the teacher do a fine motor skill project that just happens to be Jack’s birthday. It is fun and easy and fun, Messy and fun.
But what to do about the traditional celebrations? The expected celebration where we invite family and friends and classmates? And then, I realized that if we really wanted it to be about Jack, then we should do what Jack likes to do. We’ve been scooting away from doing what is typical or expected, and focusing as a family on what really works for us for awhile. We are much less concerned about what others think and much more focused on what our family needs.
What works for us, what works for Jack, is enjoying a meal with good friends. So that’s what we did tonight. Actually we did the exact same thing we did last year, and we did it in the same place, at a local hoffbrau. We reserved a small party room, asked friends and family to join us, and brought cakes and cupcakes and candles. Everyone got to eat what they wanted off the extensive menu and have some space for their kids. When our kids got a little noisy we were able to close the door without the worry of bothering other diners, and we got to enjoy being who we are.
Jack held court in one of the center booths with friends and family switching out while he ate dinner. Then he had some ice cream, then some chocolate cake, then some more ice cream, then a little cheesecake, and when that was done he laid his head on the table and watched the little kids run around, and listened to the grownups chat.
No jumpy house. No balloons. No giant mouse and clanging game machines. No laser tag. Just Jack, and family, and our friends who have become our extended family. A happy boy, a happy birthday.
We went to a great event tonight at the Children’s Discovery Museum of San twlqje called Play Your Way, an evening designed for autistic children and their families. The museum has some strong appeal during regular hours, but I’ll admit I do not go out of my way to take the kids there because sometimes the acoustics are just too much for Jack, and with two stories of play area it is easy to have my children want to go in two different directions. When Jack gets tired out he likes to be in his wheelchair so it can be hard to take even the minor detour to wait for the elevator because stairs go directly to where Katie wants to go.
This evening is different. It is an almost obstacle-free evening set up for Jack, and for his friends. The number of people invited to the museum was limited, which makes the space much easier to navigate with a wheelchair, and there is a lesser chance that Jack will drag his hands across another person when we are walking. The museum staff created quiet spaces for kids who needed some down time, and there were icons near each of the areas so parents could create a social story if that is their kid’s thing. The staff was expecting us, and our particular group of whoops and stims. Friendly, inviting, it was exactly how a kid’s museum should be.
Jack had a great time. I let him lead, which he doesn’t get to do very often because of safety concerns. He wasn’t just let loose while we were there, but I wasn’t worried when he made a run for it and circled the entire archaeology/paleontology exhibit. It was a safe environment to practice. Yes, there were a few parents that looked at us as we raced past, but it was more of a look of “Hmm, I wonder how their family handles this situation?”
I also noticed how much fun my daughter was having. Yeah, I know she can adapt easily to almost any environment, but the one thing that seems to follow her wherever she goes is her family. And you know what? Shawn and I are more relaxed when we are in environments that meet Jack’s needs. Our home, my sister’s house, the Lake House, a few friends’ homes. There aren’t that many places where we can let our guard down. Not many places where I do not feel judging eyes. As the years go by I’m less affected by strangers’ stares, but it is just so much easier when they aren’t there to begin with.
I’m so glad we went this evening. My children were both happy, the exhibits were interesting to us as parents, and gave us something to explore with the kids. What’s even better is that this event wasn’t expensive, it didn’t take hours to get to, and we didn’t need any special equipment to enjoy ourselves.
I don’t expect the entire world to change for my son, but one night, for a few hours, it’s lovely to have a public place become easier for him to access.