Bike Vistas

With last weekends snow and ice, my biking season has come to a close.  I don't risk it.  Jon has very nicely set my bike up on his trainer in the basement, so that I can continue to use biking as a workout without trudging off to the Y.  And it has been nice and convenient.  But about 20 minutes into my morning ride today I looked up and was struck by my vista.  Or lack of one.  My head's up in the rafters, surrounded by rusty pipes and dusty cobwebs, two feet in front of me hangs yesterday's laundry I have been meaning to collect, and my ipod rests precariously on a shelf full of stuff that really needs to go to goodwill.  Not soul expanding surroundings, to be sure.  Luckily this is just for the shoulder season, when the roads are icy and the wind is chill, but there's not enough snow to get out into the woods on skies.  I can't wait to be released from the basement and out into the woods where the vistas, even if only of the local golf course, help my workout refresh my soul as well as my body.

Bike musings

Our Minnesota fall was an excellent one for bike commuting.  The weather was perfect- the only problem was the darkness that encrouched on both ends of my ride by mid-October.  Luckily my trusty old Dutch commuter bike comes with a generator, so I always have a headlight- no worries about leaving anything on and batteries dying during the day.  The problem with the generator is that it makes peddaling even harder.  And it comes with a soundtrack of this busy buzzing noise.  If I'm on the flats or going downhill, the buzzing is highpitched, fast and furious.  It makes me feel like I am really whizzing through the night.  But any uphill segment of my commute comes with a corresponding slowing of the buzz and a dimming of the light.  At one point in my trudge up Pelham I come to near silence, as well as only the dimmest shadow of a light.  It is quite discouraging.  It is an all too honest indicator of my effort level.  I've found myself amused to think about how we would react if our entire lives had such a buzzing in the background.  Anytime things are going well, are easy, we had this whizzing sound in the back of our heads.  But as things slowed down, got bogged, were difficult, the whizzing got lower and slower, a visceral signal of our increased effort.  I don't know if it would change how we lived our lives.  I do know, however, that about 3/4 of the way up the Pelham hill, when my generator is nearly strangling, hardly making a peep or giving off a flicker of light, I do regroup and double my efforts.  It usually means standing up on my pedals and really kicking it into gear.  But by the time I reach the top, the buzz is geared right up and my way is once again brightly illuminated. 

I owe the therapy jar some loose change

This past weekend I kept walking around piles of the boys cast-off toys and books.  Everytime I had to make my way around one of the piles I would urge the kids to pick them up.  After about my forty-first detour around the small toys on the living room floor I snapped.  I gave the boys (who were happily reading by the new fireplace) one more chance to get up and pick them up.  Getting no response, I created one of my own.  In dramatic glory, I scooped up all the toys I could fit into my arms, declared loudly that they were headed for the trash, and then stomped up the stairs.  I admit that I couldn't bring myself to throw them into the gross trash can under the sink that has all manner of foodscraps in it, and instead went to Eli's nearly empty bin in his room.  But throw them I did.  The boys, finally roused from their reading stupor by my glorious tantrum, rushed up behind me and stood in the doorway, aghast at my actions.  I informed them that they could, should they desire, rescue anything they wanted from the trashcan, but from this point forward any toys left unclaimed on floors or tables or radiators could be found filed away in the trash. 

The whole time I was having this tantrum, a part of me was detached and watching from above.  This mini-me was amazed, impressed, and only a little embarassed.   I watched myself dust off my hands, and prance off to the privacy of my own room.  I will let you know that I took great pleasure from the sounds of the boys hastily shoving toys into drawers as I hid in my room, waiting for my cool to return. Jon then sidled by and sweetly asked me to cough up some loose change for the therapy jar. He may have a point.

Game-changer

After 9 years of talking, we have pulled the trigger and inserted a gas fireplace into our mantle.  And after one week the jury is in.  We love it.  Love it.  Theo has become a serial reader for the first time in his life.  This past weekend he woke up at 7:30, and without coming into our room for a snuggle we heard him head downstairs, flick on the fire, and settle in for a read.  Five hours later we had to beg him to stop so he could eat something.  Five hours later!  Theo's past record for a reading session is about 30 minutes.  He's never been romanced by it like Eli and I, who can spend whole weekends inside a book (or five, in Eli's case- that kid plows through books quickly). 

The fireplace has transformed our use of our living room.  The room we used to use as just a sort of glorified hallway between the dining room/kitchen and upstairs as become our hangout.  It's so comfy that we couldn't bring ourselves to go downstairs to the unheated, unfinished basement to watch movies anymore.  So, for the first time in over 18 years, Jon and I have moved our TV up and into our main living space.  Yes, we now have a TV in the living room.  And we love it.  We still use it for mostly movie watching, but despite being the only family in North America without cable, we've fallen in love with a weekly sitcom- Modern Family.  We all greatly anticipate Wednesday evening post supper when we flick on the fire, settle in for a bit of a read, and then get the old TV set warmed up in time to watch a half hour of commercial TV. 

All in all, I think the biggest bonus of the new fireplace is that my hands and toes won't be freezing all winter.  But add to that an avidly reading Theo and some good cheap family entertainment, we are kicking ourselves for not having inserted this wonderful piece of technology earlier in our lives! 

Theo finds his life's calling

A few years back we brought old Theo to the OT for an evaluation.  We had self-diagnosed some sensory-seeking behavior and thought that for the sake of any future partner of Theo, we should find some ways for him to self-medicate.  Either that or he is going to figuratively, and possible literally, suffocate someone.  He likes to be in contact with others.  Those others can be rabbits, or parents, or a relunctant brother, or the ground, or a hammock, or a leaf pile.  What would send me into the outer orbits of sensory overload seems to not faze Theo in the least.

His brother seems to have staked out ground at the other end of this particular spectrum.  This becomes most clear when you take the two of them to a beach.  Eli emerges from the car fully encased in shoes and socks.  He tiptoes down to the water's edge then tries to balance on a towel, or a magazine, or any other availbable piece of non-sand real estate as he carefully removes his footware and then leaps into the water, thus neatly avoiding any unwanted sand contact.  Then there is Theo.  He rolls out of the car barefoot and strides across the beach until gravity gets the best of him and he can take the temptation no more. He lays down, rolls, gets sand into every crevice, rubs it on his arms, and smiles wide.  If he goes in the water, it's only to get wet and then restart the rolling game, this time with sand that will stick.

Anyway- after 7 or so years of observing Theo and his sensory-seeking ways, we got him evaluated.  He came out just about where we suspected, but apparently not far enough down the conintuum to warrant therapy with a professional.  We were sent on our way with a regime of home-care technigues.  Which we faithfully undertook, For at least two weeks. Then Theo seemed a bit better and our lives got real busy.  Nothing else was said about the matter until last spring.  School started to produce some serious anxiety in the kid.  His handwriting was getting to the point where even he could not read it.  And he felt out of sorts.  He started asking for a return to the OT.  And Jon and I agreed that it was a good idea.  Only our follow through was lacking.  It is a difficult system to negotiate, what with referrals and networks and waitlists.  But Theo was persistent and just after the start of the school year we returned to a different office for a fresh eval. 

This time, the sensory stuff was even closer to normal, but other interesting things turned up.  The OT identified a pretty severe lack of balance, a weak core, limited cross-body coordination.  Add to this some kind of vision issue that involves an inability to focus over a center line, and my spirit gets bogged right down.  All of these things seem to be related to his history of 20 ear infections in the first 20 years of his life.  Not sure if it's about the scarred, damaged, inner ear, or the steady diet of antibiotics throughout his infancy.  In any case, the OT was amazed at Theo's coping techniques.  Seems as if he has created a whole system to deal with his deficiencies- so much so that he functions very well.  Only it comes at great effort to the kid.  It broke my heart when the OT suggested that Theo's energy output needed to carry out functions such as handwriting was about 180% that of another kid.  And to think of all the times we've told him to try harder.  Now that the OT has pointed it out, if you watch the guy while he's at some task, the effort is wholly obvious in the mouth movements, the tongue, the twisting body, tapping feet, near whole body contortions.  And this is just the effort he puts into something such as using a fork.  This evaluator recommended an immedaite diet of one hour of OT a week, and Theo whole heartedly agreed to give it his best effort.  On the way home from that first appointment Theo buckled himself into the backseat with a happy sigh.  He said, "Thanks Mom for taking me.  It feels really good to be getting some help with this."  His relief was palpable. And the changes that have come with only 4 sessions at the OT are fairly outrageous. 

I always bring a book to the sessions, thinking I will read.  Instead I watch in awe as the OT puts Theo through his paces, always anticipating his reaction to a certain task and then helping him readjust.  One hour wears the kid out, but the therapist says she's not only working his muscles, but rewiring his brain, and it is an exhausting process.  I think it seems a bit like voodoo, but as long as it keeps working, we will keep taking this medicine. 

Theo is thriving.  And after the last session I got this in the car on the way home: "You know Mom, I think I have FINALLY figured out what I want to do with my life.  I'm going to be an OT".  I like that at 9 he has finally figured out his life's path.  To think of all that time wasted in elementary school, flirting with different professions.  It's about high time he settles down and gets serious about his future!

Coffee break

Eli participates in a book group at school with a retired man who loves to challenge the kids.  In fifth grade they did things like read Macbeth, carry on a debate about controversial topics such as uses of welfare money, and literary analyses complete with cited sources.  When a big project is due, David, the leader, brings in treats, and coffee.  Last year Eli took a taste or two and called it good.  This year things changed and earlier this year he downed two full cups, one of them black.  This on almost an empty stomach due to his inability to consume any of his lunch during the mad dash that is their lunch break.  When I stopped by to help out in his math class the kid was positively alight and buzzing with energy.  He was clicking the mouse on his computer to make a calculator appear/disappear/appear/disappear and looking at me with wild eyes as he explained about his coffee consumption. 

That evening he seemed ok, but going to sleep proved to be a problem.  He came down to the couch at 10 saying he couldn't sleep.  At 11 he found me in bed to report the same problem.  He allowed me to doze from 11 to 1, but stopped in frequently to report on his sleeplessness.  I thought that it might not be the best time to have a discussion about logical consequences- but I was getting frustrated that I was paying the consequences along with the caffienated child.  We finally both managed to get a few hours rest, but in the morning, as I rather vindicatively shook him awake before the sun rose I asked, "Well, did you learn anything from that?"  He looked a little sheepish but didn't have much to say.

Later that day, as I battled fatigue due to Eli's hyper night, I decided to send of an email to his teacher, letting her know about the coffee incident.  I told her I didn't think that it had to stop, necessarily, but I begged her to ask David to have a talk to the kids about reasonable limits and setting some for themselves.  She replied that she would talk to David at the first opportunity.  I urged her to help David find a way to continue the fun tradition, but with limits.  I felt like I was talking behind Eli's back, so I let him in on the email convo, trying to shine a pre-emptive light on how reasonable I had been in my request.

Well.  Last night on the way home from fencing, Theo ZB mentioned that his group had met with David to turn in their papers and that there was no coffee!  No treats!  Theo and the rest of the group were devastated.  Eli got real quiet.  Then mentioned something about me and my meddling ways.  Then the conversation went on to different things and Eli was a very loving pre-teen last night.  Gave me hugs, told me he loved me, asked for a snuggle.

He woke up a teenager.  It started with asking for advice about if he should take a shower or not. And then loudly decrying the inadequacies of my advice giving.  At breakfast he was surly and quiet.  When I inquired into the issue at hand I was told that I had 'ruined everything' by getting involved in the coffee thing.  Now all the kids will be mad and it's all my fault.  I tried to defend myself, pointing out that I had not called for an all out ban, just limits, and that it was quite possible that other parents had mentioned something as well.  I might as well have been talking to an iceberg.  That would have at least shown a sign or two of melting, given the global warming situation.  Eli remained frigid.  Angry.  Sad.  Tore me apart, actually.  I admit I meddled.  But I also want to point out that the book club leader was not showing good judgement, letting kids who weigh less than 80 pounds consume bottomless cups of coffee.  That doesn't soften old Eli however.

I emailed Jon to give him an overview of the situation on the homefront.  He pointed out that Eli had been so extra sweet and loving last night, there had to be some readjustment.  Wise man.  Hopefully the pendulum has swung back closer to the middle of the road by the time he gets home from school here.  I have learned a lesson.  Next time I meddle, I will not tell Eli that I did so.

Marketing voodoo

First of all, on this, the day after Halloween, I want to put it on the record that I am on to the shrinking of the 'fun size' candy bar.  And it ain't funny.

Also.  Today I bought one of those yoga balls for Theo to use at school (long story).  I decided to get one that advertised 'weighted stabilizing technology'.  I thought this might prevent it from rolling around his classroom.  And I do think it was the right purchase.  But that 'weighted stabilizing technology' I paid extra for?  Sand.  Sand.  It did make me chuckle.  Eli, in his pneumonia-induced weakened state could not even crack a smile at this hijacking of language to make a sale.  Makes me realize the kid is still sick.

Eli just read this and said, "Let's break it down Mom.  Weighted.  Does sand have mass?  Yes!  Therefore it is weighted.  Stabilizing.  Does the sand stabilize it?  Yes!  Technology.  Technology is something that solves a problem.  Is the ball rolling around the classroom a problem?  Yes!  Does the sand solve it? Yes!  Is the sand therefore technology?  Yes!  I don't see what your problem is Mom."  Me neither.  Me neither.

Orcas ahead!

 This fall has been beyond spectacular.  It's Novemeber 1 and my bike commute to work has not been uncomfortable even once.  We've had a string of 60's and sunny with leaves hanging on to the trees in brilliant shades of red and yellow.  It seems that November usually comes in dark, with bare trees, cold winds and dreary rain.  I know that scenario is not too far down the road, so it's time to get a few last memories from summer out of the brain and into this blog before I start to seriously hibernate.

In July, Jon and I sent our boys to summer camp and then headed to Seattle for a child-free vacation with our friends from San Diego.  We dropped the kids off on a Sunday that was so muggy and still I began sweating before even getting out of bed, and by the time we had lugged the boys' bags from house to car and from car to cabin, we were drenched and grumpy.  We drove home with the air on, showered and then carefully made our way to the airport trying to stay as sweat-free as possible.  Once we landed in Seattle, it was glorious sweatshirt weather.  The whole trip was a hootenany, exploring the San Juan Islands, Victoria, Mount Baker, and Vancouver.  A highlight (beyond the hearty chuckles with Kerri and Jeff) was our kayak trip with the Orcas.  We signed up with an outfitter and were immediately informed that there was NO GUARANTEE of Orca sitings.  They would do what they could, but the Orcas did not show on demand.  Our guide was a gruff outdoorsman who thought he has me sized up within 10 minutes of his introduction.  I admit, I got ahead of him on the demo and proved myself to be both brash and incompetent, which caused him to mutter, "Teachers, they are the hardest students", a sentiment with which I heartily agree.  But once we got out on the water, old Jonners warmed him up with lots of questions and before long we had him in our pocket, laughing along with us, not at us.  Ok me.  Not at me. 

And the Orcas!  I think we were on the water for about 5 minutes before we heard the sound of whales exhaling through their blowholes.  Exhaling through their blowholes, and we were hearing it, close by!  The guide gathered us into a kelp bed near shore and we were delighted to see a whole pod of 20-30 Orcas slip by the bows of our kayaks.  It was unnerving and beautiful and majestic.  The sounds of the slaps of tail fins and heavy exhalations coupled with the graceful curving backs sliding in and out of the water kept us spellbound for 30 minutes.  Once the pod swam off into the distance we started paddling again, but it was only minutes before a second group came by.  We retreated to another kelp bed for our second parade.  Once it passed, we paddled further down shore.  Soon we heard another hearty exhale and our guide muttering, "You have GOT to be kidding!"  He was getting frustrated by too many Orca sitings!  He had places to take us, but protocol called for us to huddle up in some kelp whenver whales happened by, and they just kept happening.  We assured him that we were fine sitting and watching.  Really.  Eventually he got us to a lighthouse, and in near shore to spot starfish and other sea creatures.  At one point a seal popped up just feet from the kayaks and stared us all down with an incredible set of eyes.  I took one look into those brown windows to the soul and knew something I had always suspected.  There is life out there as smart as we dumb old humans.  And they know it, too.

We made it back to shore with only one more kelp detour to wait out a fourth Orca pod.  All of us, including our once skeptical guide, declared the outing a raging success.  I would totally go back for more, with my boys- I think they would love it.

The rest of the trip was just as delightful as our Orca paddle.  We did much walking around cute little towns, stopping into bars for refreshments and Tour Du France viewings.  Jon and Jeff got in a few epic bike rides (in their words) while Kerri and I laughed our way through 20 years of memories.  It is great to have such great travel partner-friends.  The only problem we seem to have is choosing our next adventure.  Biking in Italy?  Back to Costa Rica?  What about touring around Ireland?  Whatever the decision, I know I can look forward to mellow days of laughter and games, coupled with a few exciting adventures off the beaten track- a great combination, especially when shared with excellent friends.