1st day of school

Yesterday was the first day of Mr. Cynic's Junior year and Captain Comic in seventh grade.

Mr. Cynic has been riding the bus to high school for the past couple of years, though we live .4 mile from the school. That's closer than I lived to my high school, to which I walked - up hill both ways in the snow. Seriously, I did. It was hilly where I lived growing up in Connecticut. Not here though, and only the occasional appearance of snow.

But back to yesterday, Mr. Cynic and the first day of school. He had the same bus driver for his first two years of high school. She could probably drive her route with her eyes closed. She retired and there was a new bus driver, who drove rather like a lab mouse introduced to a new maze. She had no idea where she was going in the morning. And again in the afternoon. At every intersection she turned the wrong way, according to Mr. Cynic. When his bus was significantly late on the way home, I received a text message: going to be late. bus driver doesn't know what she's doing.


When he finally arrived home, he declared he was never taking the bus again. I smiled. The boy who eschews exercise will be getting some. Every day.

Captain Comic's bus involved less drama but more nerves on my part. He has been riding the SPED bus since we moved here five years ago. He stands at the end of the driveway in full sight of his peers at the corner bus stop to get on a different bus. Last Halloween, I found out that they all knew him, but he didn't really know them. As we walked around the neighborhood, the common cry was "I see him at the bus stop." Last spring, his IEP team and I decided it was time he ride with his neurotypical peers. And when I had an IEP team meeting last week, they all told me, "Mom, you cannot walk him to the bus stop. You cannot ask his friends if it's okay for him to sit with them. He needs to do this himself. He's thirteen."

And while my instincts know this is true for any other kid, I still want to protect him, manage his interactions. So I stood at the window with the camera and watched him. He did alright.

Which one is Captain Comic? Look at the socks.

I checked in via email with his case manager and he had a great first day, even with a homeroom teacher change. 

Mr. Cynic is excited to have friends in most of his classes, and is excited to be taking Music Theory with most of his band mates. Keep in mind, they have not rehearsed all together once as of yet, so band mates is still a relatively loose term.

In the meantime, Grandma took Toots with her to her morning pool exercises, and after three weeks without even cracking the manuscript with all the mayhem here, I had an excellent edit session at the local library. I dove into the creative river, doused myself and completely rewrote two chapters really well! The session exceeded my expectations, especially since I felt so lost as I opened the document.

Honey, post-surgery, went back to work yesterday, even though I felt it was too early, but I can't keep him from work. It's his thing. It's hard to see that he loves it sometimes, but deep down, I think this is his creative drive, even when used for others' purposes and under crushing deadlines. 

So we have returned to the usual mayhem, and having a routine for it that's a little stiffer than summertime benefits us all, especially after this area has been hit by Mother Nature with smoke from the great Dismal Swamp fires for weeks now, and an earthquake and hurricane last week. The ten to fifteen inches of rain that came with Irene did not douse the swamp fires. Yesterday afternoon, we had a good bit of buckets full rain while Captain Comic was walking Lucy, and with them came Tornado Warnings. And still there is smoke in the air. But we go on, relatively unscathed, unlike many of my friends and family all over the East Coast and inland. Some are still waiting for power after the Hurricane while others in Texas droughts and fire fields, are now without well water. 

I feel very blessed that we are back to our normal. Almost - Toots starts preschool next week.

he's a teen

It's hard to believe sometimes that 12:31am thirteen years ago and today are part of the same lifetime.

But it is, and constitutes the whole life so far of one of the most interesting, funniest and challenging people I have ever known.

At 1, 2.5, and with his brother at 1.5 years old.

Mom: Smile.

Capt. Comic: I don't want to smile. At least I've got a thumbsup.

Mom: Don't you dare laugh.

Capt. Comic: Pbbpbpb!

Capt. Comic: C'mon, Mom, I don't want to smile. I can do what I want now that I'm a teen.

Mom: Pikachu!

Seriously, Mom. Just take the picture.

Mom: Then give me an old movie star smile, like Clark Gable.

I love this kid.

I usually post a birthday blog in which I list a number of things about the kid whose birthday it is equal to their age. This time, it took three days to get Captain Comic to come up with a list himself, and in the end he drew it in about 10 minutes. Click to zoom, they're fun drawings.

Just in case you can't tell what he is representing:

1. Making movies.
2. Godzilla.
3. Drawing.
4. Making people laugh.
5. If you don't know, you're lucky. (oops, mom's commentary) Pokemon.
6. Other people singing hurts my ears, "it's like my Kryptonite."
7. Videogames.
8. Star Wars
9. Need I say more? (mom again)
10. Pugs are my latest obsession.
11. The Hill (really a berm at the back of our neighborhood baseball field)
12. Jaws
13. I like fights in movies, like Jackie Chan.

Captain Comic is becoming a teen.

I wonder if that's why Mother Nature is bringing this epic Hurricane Irene?

He's a great kid. He's big, he's loud, he's talented, he's an original and the next handful of years of my life will be epic indeed. I love him.

Happy Birthday, Kiddo.

first this

I am still playing catch up on the vacation blogs....really I am, and we had an earthquake today - in Virginia. But first, this:

Please watch and understand that this man is talking about my family. Asperger's Syndrome is a form of Autism that makes me feel like one of the lucky ones in the club Parents of Autism. It took a lot of work to get Captain Comic where he is now. I did it, do it, because I love him and will always have his back, even when it can be really hard. And everyday there is a little of that.


Thank you, 
Cathy

time out

I have a lot to do.

I have a lot on my mind.

So this morning, Toots and I took a breather, and just played in the sunshine. I think it helped me to not obsess quite so much, sort things out a bit.

It's also our last day of Toots only. Tomorrow, we retrieve Mr. Cynic and Captain Comic. Mayhem will return to its usual full capacity.

"Don't take my picture, Mommy!"

"I said, stop taking my picture."

So for now, some quiet girl time.

quiet & things

Back from camping, this week was mostly much needed downtime. 


My writing group had a lunch meeting after a hiatus period due to travels of each, and surgery of one. We had a logistics meeting discussing where we all were at the moment in writing, how we want the group to function, and dare we invite some new blood in after loosing two members to moves somewhat cross-country in the past year. We all agreed on new blood, some of us moaned about the current transitory state of publishing world, the other members all recently submitted works and are in that sea of rejections and non-responses. I ended up being the cheerleader to keep them all from quitting writing, and thankfully it worked. They are all too good to not be read out. 


One had to remind herself of why she writes besides trying to publish. I not so eloquently put it, "If I'm not writing, I am miserable to be around. Might as well shoot me it the head." And the rest, thankfully, recognized that in themselves.


Speaking of writing and rejections, I saw a bit of an interview last night in which the author of The Help claimed to have received 60 rejections over the course of three years. Now she's a best selling author with a highly anticipated film on its way to release. 


So there's always hope.


I had one good writing session this week. Polished up another chapter. I am hoping to get more in this week, especially while the boys are out of state with their father. I really want to knock this revision out and get it in the same state as my writing group compatriots. Although, if I feel as hopeless as they did before my cheer session, maybe not. Who am I kidding? I want to get the book out of my hands and into the public. And I have other starts and ideas to work on.


It's quiet. Too quiet. I find it disorienting, though it is what I loved most about my pre-motherhood. I really loved just curling up with a book because I felt like it and no one interrupted me for anything darn thing. Or just going outside for a walk to clear my head. Not that it needed much clearing then. And writing for endless hours because my head had empty rooms to wander around in.


Now I want to be interrupted. Curses.


I miss the boys. I miss my grown up talks with my really perceptive teen. I miss Captain Comic yelling and stomping through the house because I am ruining his life or crushing his dreams because I won't buy him a real movie camera. Hm, just Googled, looks like that would run me about $67K, used. I would sooner replace Big Bertha, my rusty year 2000 minivan, and the fence. Or maybe try to put in that second master suite to the house.  Or sock it away toward the kids' college educations, half of one of them anyway. I miss how he always makes me laugh.


Other than that, I have been battling weeds and squash bugs, a Normandy style invasion of which destroyed my beautiful squash plants, again. And Toots and I have been having fun with each other and with friends. 


So this Saturday is an extra quiet one, and I almost - note almost - feel a smidge ho-hum. 

Warning: not so mild language.

It's that time - short family vacation, camping, after we drop the boys off to their father. See outside the walnut grained vinyl veneer station wagon? That's our camping reservations forecast for  the duration. Lucy is not a fan of thunderstorms when in the house. I wonder how she'll fair in a tent?

We should be back in four days. Glub glub.

And then we'll do it again with the boys when we get them back in August.

new paint

Toots and I had a wonderful time with some new paint I picked up on Friday, 

while birds twittered in the trees

I think I like the palette cleaning tissue the best.

balance points

This week, between the kids' first week home from school and a gazillion doctor appointments - no worries, just getting updates on old stuff - I have not written or edited, seen only a couple of friends for thirty minutes, and the continuing hovering forecast of rain and wearing a boot have prevented trips to the neighborhood pool. We're all a bit stir crazy, one week into summer. And Grandma caught a bad cold and has been off of her usual exercise routine, too.

I think this week was an exercise in finding a routine amidst overall changes.

I have not watered the garden consistently, because it seems the rain will really pour, then not much happens. Then I think the rain will come overnight, and it really doesn't. And it's tougher to drag the hose around the yard with this dang boot.

Captain Comic wants to learn poker, badly, and I want to teach him. Poker was a big influence in my family life when I was a kid, I love playing cards, especially with my dad.We sure had some good Gin tournaments, mano a daughtero. But I know I need a good visual aid for Captain Comic to see all the levels of win, etc. Somehow I need the time and focus to teach him the multi-step processes of poker, when he is compromised in multi-step processing. It will take more than one session, that is for certain. Much frustration will have to be abated, on both parts.

Honey and I had a late night date at a combo pub cinema place last night for our fifth anniversary. We arrived a bit early for the showing of Bridesmaids, and sat at the bar. While we waited, I learned the difference between us and how that difference is a good thing. We were quiet for a moment, so I asked, "What would you like to see in the next five years?

Honey: What do you mean? I can't see into the future.
Me: What would you like to see. What do you want in life?
Honey: I don't know, I'm pretty good. A hot meal, a warm bed, a chance to relaxed a little more.
Me: Really? That's kind of nice.

See, I am always looking around the bend, aiming for something, having big dreams, wanting something, looking for the next adventure. In his way, Honey is content to just be.

At times, this can be a source of frustration for both of us, but I think, at other times, it works to both of our advantages that we come at the world and each other from different angles. I get him off of his butt for an adventure. While it may take a little initial effort, he always seems to appreciate it after the first push. Conversely, he gets me to stay in the moment and just chill and realize that not everything needs to be done right now, not everything needs to be planned or in constant motion. A little stillness is a good thing.

So we find our balance.

I need to find a way to fit writing into the week while the boys are home. I think I will manage that a little better next week, when I don't have so many appointments. Also, Grandma seems to be feeling a little better today and will likely get back to her morning exercises routine, away from the mayhem of home. I know how important her exercise routine is for her. She's better about keeping one than I am.

I have written a summer daily schedule and hung it up for Captain Comic to have a reference as to what this hour of the day is for. Poor guy kept floating around not knowing what to do with himself, leaving a wake of difficult relationships, snack scraps and random detritus until I did.

Toots needs a little more interaction than I've been giving her this week, while I've focused on my medical stuff and whatnot. There's been a bit too much PBS and Netflix children's program selections going on.  I think if the forecast perks up to the sunny side, we'll get to the pool more next week. This will be good for the Capt., too.

Mr. Cynic has been a big help this week, and found ways to hang with his friends and girlfriend. He's getting more and more independent, even if he is still hesitant on the learning to drive sessions.

And, even after all these years, Honey and I continue to learn each other, and how to negotiate what it is that simultaneously drew us to each other, and what drives us most crazy on a daily basis.

Ain't love grand?

It's summer. I think by now, all schools across the country are out for the season, the days are long on light and open hours. Don't forget to enjoy them for what they are, a chance to relax a little more...and maybe have a good adventure,or two.

stuff

I did it again. I overloaded a weekend and its lead up, and paid the price physically. And then I woke up with a cold this morning. I did more yard work last week than one somewhat broken down (back, shoulder, ankle) middle-aged person should ever attempt on one's own. I think I amassed fourteen hours on Wednesday and Thursday alone, of serious manual labor. 

But Captain Comic slept in for the first time in his life well past six o'clock this morning. He made a premeditated decision to do so, and it worked. This makes me extraordinarily happy.  Ask me another day if he kept up his plan to sleep in this summer for more that one morning. It's been a long childhood of pre-dawn waking. 

Friday night we had a big cookout with a bunch of families with young kids. Mr. Cynic invited Goldilocks. I totally forgot to break out a camera. Must have been having too much fun. It rained briefly and Honey saw a rainbow while he was grilling.  The kids were all over the trampoline, swings, house, dog...and poppers and snaps: 

I think most of the adult males had more fun with these than their kids. 

Father's Day, the boys thanked Honey for providing and Toots woke up a very sleepy Daddy with hugs and kisses and a card. And then we left him the house to himself for several hours. I had a very busy Sunday at our fellowship. Poor kids had to stick around for a choir rehearsal and two services. There was a cookout scheduled, too, but I had church burnout. Captain Comic had it much worse than I did, so we came home to spend the afternoon with our resident Dad. Honey grilled again and Toots was excited about "Wayermelyen!" 

Or did I take this shot on Saturday evening? I can't remember anymore. 

At some point this weekend, I looked out our front window and discovered I had grown a sea horse in my driveway:

I am sort of collapsing this week, and have a gazillion doctor appointments lined up. No new worries, just back on the specialists wheel I hopped off of about a year ago re: old stuff.  It is exhausting and expensive, even with insurance going to one after another only to have them tell me to go see yet another. But hopefully I will start to get some real answers. However, I just found out a new bellydancing class is starting tonight and I really want to join it. I need to do something about my belly, and why not have fun getting it into shape?

The weather is kicking into high gear as I type this up. I hope it doesn't get too bad, coming in from the Midwest....but we sure can use the rain.

new fave thing & convo with the captain

Captain Comic: How'd they DO that?
Mom: I don't know, but it's really creative and innovative, don't you think?
Capt. Comic: But how did they do it? Did they like draw it with a stick burning into the toast?
Mom: The images are so consistent from one piece of toast to the other, I wonder if they have some kind of a stamp thing they add lines of something to, and heat up to burn into the toast...
Captain Comic: That wastes a huge amount of toast!
Mom (falls over laughing)

first real beach day

At the beach, the world is bright, the waves lull, even when there is a strong riptide, and everything that has gotten under my skin for the past year rolls off of me in the breeze off of mother ocean.

And Captain Comic stops talking when he hits the water, for hours at a stretch, or when he's buried in the sand. His synapses reset from the sensory input he gets from being wholly contained over most of the surface of his skin, whether sand or water. Sensory ReIntegration. I think he and I are alike in that manner, he's just more so, to the nth degree. Other than when he sleeps, the beach is the one environment in which he does not talk endlessly.

I loved the beach for a lifetime before he was born, but for him, I love it even more. At one point, he and I took a walk on the pier to see the fishermen's catch. Toward the end of the pier, one young man had caught a skate! That was really cool for us to see. As we talked with him, he said in the past week, a couple of sharks had been caught at this pier. You should have seen Capt. Comic's eyes bug out when I said, "Right where you were swimming in the same waters!"

It is a struggle to get him to put on sunscreen before he hits the surf. In front of the woman in the white top from right to left is Captain Comic, Mr. Cynic and Mr. Cynic's new gf. She's cute and very nice, also very blonde, hence she is now known as Goldilocks. They had to move away from the pier zone by 200 feet, partly due to riptide, partly the fisherman's lost hooks. We kept the encampment by the pier, so it was a little walk to the swim zone. Toots decided she didn't like the ocean after it hit her in the face when she was with Honey. But I got her there a couple times later to rinse a ton of sand off and to cool down. We got hit with a good sized wave, too, But when I laughed about it, she laughed about it, too. She still would rather go to Water Country.

Here is the gang of youngins all helping out to bury Capt. Comic in the sand. Goldilocks was a good sport in entertaining him, and Toots, who is completely enamored with her.

He emerges to rinse off:

 Honey, soaking up the sun. looking up the pier. It's nice to see him relax. It's not nice to see how easily he sunburns, even with 45SPF.

Toots, when we first arrived planted herself in the sand and proceeded to swim in it and douse herself with it.

After a couple of hours, and Captain Comic and my walk on the pier, we discovered a playground near the parking lot.

Toots kept up with the teens, fearlessly. I swear she is a girl after my own heart. There was a time I rock climbed, before I totally wrecked my back, shoulder, etc. Captain Comic, after some initial Parkur moves in preparation for making his ninja movie, decided the puddle between the bathroom and play space was the most attractive place to be. Yuck.

 Play is very serious business for a three year old.

All in all, it was a perfect beach day. Life is good. Wear sunscreen.

drastic measures

There comes a time in every mother's life when she has gone beyond anger and desperation.

There comes a time when reason alone must rule.

I went into the boys' room this morning in order to collect a bit of inevitable laundry. It turned into an exercise of futility with significant use of my old rock climbing skills.

I blew several fuses, veins, etc. And then reason took over. I wrote this to post on their door.

Boys,

You are not to go anywhere or do anything that you enjoy until you work together to get this room CLEAN and KEEP IT THAT WAY. What is going on in here regarding clutter goes beyond health code violations.

You are to put your mattress pads and sheets on your beds properly and you are to keep them that way, pillowcases, included.

You are to have nothing on your floor.

You are to vacuum and dust. Clothes go properly in their drawers and closet.

You are NOT to castigate, insult, or blame each other for any of it, because you are both responsible for the horrendousness from one end of the room to the other. If I hear yelling or arguing, you will both lose something of value to you. I know where you live in your likes and dislikes and will use this knowledge accordingly.

Papers you want to save go in a drawer of the file cabinet. Choose a drawer and put a sticker with your name on it, try to keep the papers standing up, like in folders.

Your bed shelves are to be cleaned out, and trash thrown out outside.

You are to keep this note on your door until such time as you can show me you can each and together keep your room orderly and clean.

If you rip it off, you will lose screen time for a week. And I will print another and post it again.

I love you and am not going to yell about this. It is a fact of life that you are responsible for your personal hygiene.

So be it.

Mom

There is something much more scary to them when I don't yell. I am not even going to say a word. That should chill them to their very bones.

When they come home from school and take care of walking the dog and mowing the lawn, they are not to be seen or heard, but for the shuffling sounds of cleaning, until such a time as I can see the floor, made beds and clothes and crap all put away. The end. 

in preparation

I spoke with Captain Comic this morning about the fact that his sixth grade Family Life class is coming up next week. I just wanted to give him a heads up.

Mom: Hey, kiddo, C'mere a minute.

Capt. Comic: What?

Mom:  Do you know your Family Life class is coming up this week?

Captain Comic: Yea. Wait, what's that?

Mom: They're going to talk to you about sex.

Capt. Comic(face screws up in creepy disgust): Ew. You mean they're going to tell us how to have S-E-X?

Mom: Not like that...

Capt. Comic: Wait, don't you have to be... (puts hand over mouth, screws up face more, barely whispers): naked?! Like the woman goes on...

Mom: Stop right there! (because can see he's trying to picture it) They're going to talk about the science of your body going through puberty, and a girl's body...

Capt. Comic: EW!!! (runs away) I'm adopting all my people!

saturday morning convo

Grandma, Honey and I volunteer for the Virginia Arts Festival. Last night in Williamsburg, we ushered for a concert of Chick Corea and Gary Burton. Absolutely outstanding show, I was mesmerized. So was Honey. These are giants of jazz, for those who don't know. Honey and I had to educate a few of the other volunteers a little bit about who these musicians were. I forget sometimes that while there are some people who are absolutely fanatical about jazz - like one guy I saw keeping set lists, there are many more who have never dipped their toes in that syncopated water. Honey and I fall somewhere between those extremes, a little closer to the fanatics.

So while all three adults of the house were in Williamsburg, Mr. Cynic babysat. Babysitting largely comprised of viewings of Kung Fu Panda, expected, and apparently Captain Comic added Jimmy Neutron, Boy Genius.  


This morning, after our late night arrival home, Toots wanted to wake us - twice. The second time, she climbed into our bed with the Jimmy Neutron DVD case in hand.

Toots (points to the picture on the cover): Das Jimmy Neutron.
Mom: M-hm.
Toots: And das Carl.
Mom: M-hm.
Toots: And das Jimmy Neutron's dog, Tonnor.
Mom: I don't think Jimmy Neutron's dog's name is Connor. Daddy, isn't it something like Einstein?
Honey (slowly rouses from sleep): ................................................Goddard.
Mom: Oh yea, the dog is named after a famous scientist, Goddard.
Toots: We sing dat in pweschool.
Mom:  What?
Toots: Goddard.
Mom: What?
Toots: We sing Goddard in pweschool, before we eat.
Mom (light slowly dawns): OH!
Toots (sings): Goddard fadder, Goddard fadder, we thank you, we thank you.....
Mom (chuckles): That's God our Father, not Goddard, silly!
Toots: Oh.

milestones

Preschool is serious business.

Not really, in fact it's built on play. But they sure take the end of the year to extremes.

It's the last week of Toots's preschool. She went two days a week all year. Tuesday was a party in her class. Thursday there was a performance and awards ceremony. Here's a peek. The whole thing was utterly cute. So cute it could kill an ordinary man.

That's Toots in purple in the front row, with her class of Busy Bees. Behind them are the Froggies, 2 classes of the next age group up. 

We mother and educator types were slayed, weeped and wailed - not really, but we were a very teary lot. The Director for fourteen years also retired. It was said that her first students were entering college, entering the military and entering the workforce. She was incapable of reading her own speech. Toots's teacher presented the Director with a bouquet, etc, having worked with her for five years, and had her kids under her care for four years before that. She could barely get through her presentation, utterly weepy.

And then today was the Picnic Festival. Toots started off shyly, which is odd, because shy is the last word to describe her. But once she settled in, she had fun, fished for candy and toys, got tattoos, blew bubbles with her friends. But no matter how many times she built the courage up to go into the blown up caterpillar, she could not do it once the air blasted her in the face from within.

I don't have the slightest clue what has happened to this school year. A couple of weeks remain to the public school system for Mr. Cynic and Captain Comic. Mr. Cynic has his fourth girlfriend since September and will be a Junior next year. A Junior. I still can't get him to drive though he has his permit. He doesn't have a job. He is my baby, but he is taller than me (finally) and his voice is three octaves below mine.

Mr. Cynic smiling after his jazz choir concert. 

Captain Comic struggled his way into sixth grade and middle school, until the new school finally figured out how to comply with his IEP. Now, he is - for an aspergian - a social butterfly, eating lunch in the cafeteria with friends rather than his case manager's empty classroom. He has joined the homework club, and stays after school to complete his assignments, again with friends, rather than having knock down drag out screaming matches at home with me over them. He finally is getting the hang of riding a bike.

This was taken on the sly of him at the doctor's office 

when we went in for an acne issue a couple of weeks ago. 

He's reading a pamphlet on childhood diseases, and thoroughly enjoying it. 

I don't know about this growing business and how it affects the kids at the moment. But right now, this mother can barely take it any longer. How do I make it stop? 

 Just for a moment, though, because it sure would nice to one day not have quite so much laundry to do.

oh yea, writing

Yesterday, Tuesday, is my usual writing day. Toots goes to preschool, I go to my writing group twice per month or the library on other Tuesdays. Grandma picks Toots up from preschool, so that I can go into the afternoon to have a good run of editing before the boys start coming home from school.  I thought I could edit at home yesterday, between a bunch of phone calls and sundry things. Of course, I couldn't focus on the manuscript to even take my edit copies out of their bag, let alone open the document. 

I decided earlier in the week that I would write on Wednesday, but yet again, I can't get out of the house to do so as Toots is home, and Grandma will be in and out because of appointments. Usually I can grab a Wednesday morning of child care from her, because Wednesdays are the day she typically stays home. 

I had a great breakthrough in the edits last week, and writing became fun again. It hasn't been fun for this whole 'final draft' process. I still love my story and characters and everything, but I am very ready to jump back into my imagination and start something new, so I am not very pleased about going over the material I've been working on for eons yet again. But last week, my muse blessed me, and I loved it. 

I am hoping I will manage to at least do some more typing into the new document between laundry loads  (I've been bad this week re: laundry, and the boys have been begging for socks, underwear and jeans for a few nights now, even though there are three clean, unfolded baskets in my room from the past couple of weeks) while Toots is watching various selections from Netflix streaming. "Mommy, I want Yeyyow Kipper!" "Mommy I want Yeyyow Byues Cues!"

But even as I am typing this somewhat of a get it out of my system post, I have miss squirmy worm wiggling on my lap trying desperately, and cutely, to get my attention, and I am thinking that I need to switch laundry loads, and I still need to fold those three old baskets upstairs, and the rain just stopped and I should go at least start some seedlings in a pot until I can can have Honey's help to move that raised bed to the sunny side of the yard, and this is why I leave the house to write. 

Ugh. But I am determined to take those critiqued copies out of my bag. After all, I cleaned off my desk yesterday, and now they'll fit. :)

captain comic rides again

Yes he did ride his bike some more, and made progress on his own, for which I'm very proud. 

However:

Last night, I got a call from the the local Sheriff's Department. Captain Comic did not admit to it at the time, but I got out of him this morning that he did, in fact, call 911, but hung up when he realized that was a bad idea. 

When we received the call to be sure everyone was alright, I was like "Um, Grandma, the three year old and I are watching TV, the teen and Dad are on the computers right here next to us and the twelve year old is in the shower upstairs?" I walked upstairs to check on the greatest likelihood, and Captain Comic peered through a cracked bedroom door to deny making the call. I wasn't entirely certain he was being honest, but I put the cracked door down to the fact of him being half-dressed after his shower.

Then a deputy came by and he lied again to me and to the deputy who said, "It's okay, you're not in trouble, just tell the truth."

Late last night, I discovered the phone in my room was missing from its phone bed. I was not surprised, regardless of the number of opportunities I gave him over the course of the evening to come clean. This morning I confronted him with the evidence and another threat of no screens, whereupon he was very contrite.

I called the Sheriff's Dispatch this morning and discussed with them what happened, and apologized about how this is something normally a four to six year old does. So they're sending another deputy over tonight  to speak with him so that he can understand the importance of what 911 is used for.  The woman who answered chuckled and said, "It's okay, my son did that, too, when I did not respond quickly enough when he stubbed his toe."

Here's the kicker:

He told me this morning that he wanted to ask them a question. 

Mom: What did you want to ask them?

Capt. Comic: If there really are criminals running around the streets.

asperger's syndrome and bikes

Asperger's Syndrome presents some unusual challenges as a parent that most parents never have to deal with. Certain things most parents accept as a given can never be assumed to operate in the same seamless and joyful sense.

Bike riding is one of these things. It involves both fine and gross motor skills, quick and accurate reaction time, muscle memory, and a wide variety of other things most people take for granted. Most neurotypical kids learn to ride a bike by the time they are six years old. Usually it involves one parent secretly letting go from behind and tricking the kid into the ride alone.

In my conversations with many parents of Aspies, I have found typically, if ever, they put together the pieces of learning to ride a bike when they are about twelve to thirteen years old. Captain Comic is that now. Some parents have found alternative bikes, like the leaning back three wheeler, a better way to go for their kids. Some never learn to ride, some learn to ride via an attachment to their parents' bikes, but Captain Comic had gotten too big for that. 

He has recently made friends with a couple of boys in our neighborhood who tool around on their bikes and scooters quite a bit. Yesterday they came knocking, and asked him to join them. 

I was arriving home from the second trip to the dump with loads of branches that I, Mighty She-ra of Yardwork had trimmed from the big weeping birch on our corner. 

This post is not about me, it's about Captain Comic, but I had to share that I singlehandedly trimmed the entire tree's bottom rungs of branches that reach to the ground all by myself by hand, old school with clippers and handsaw. My friends on Facebook know this already. I was quite braggadocious about my muscley feat over there. I made Mr. Cynic hang from a particularly large branch over my head that I was sawing, so that he might pull it down quicker - all ninety-five pounds of my sixteen year old son. The pipsqueak, I love him.

But enough about me.

So as Honey and I arrived home from the dump, Captain Comic was bursting through the front door, with a bike more suited to Toots's size than a kid who is practically my size, with training wheels and flat tires.

Later when I asked him what his friends thought of that first bike, and his riding along with them on the tiny, flat tired, training wheeled thing, he replied, "They were cool with it. They didn't care." 

This makes me very happy: as nutty and oddball as he is, there are peers right here in our neighborhood who accept him just the way he is. sniff

But back to the topic. After inflating the tires on another dusty old thing in the garage, I didn't give up on him, even when he gave up on himself and the process. I threatened and cajoled, as nicely as possible for him to just keep trying. I whipped out Nelson Mandela's tale when Captain Comic declared he was, "Hopeless, I tell you! HOPE-LESS!" And he fought and yelled and fell and threw the bike and ran away, and I threatened no screens (tv, computer, videogames) unless he tried into a side cul-de-sac and back to the house.  

And then the magic happened. He stopped fighting me. He stopped fighting himself. He stopped fighting the bike. He listen (sort of) when I talked about feeling his core muscles tell him how to correct the balance. He told me to stop talking and he kept trying, past our house, across the busy intersection and into the other cul-de-sac, and then back home again. 

He is this close (fingertips together) to taking off in freedom and speed around the neighborhood.

Witness:

If you turn the volume up you can hear him tell me to stop speaking, and what happens when I say okay, then sorry.  He's so funny. I love this kid.

Nothing is hopeless. Not even a child with a form of autism learning to ride a bike. All you have to do is keep trying.