Summer at the cabin

Summertime means weekends at our cabin near La Conner, Washington. It's usually a 1.5-hour trip from Seattle, and once we arrive, everyone--even Gary the dog-- is a little calmer and happier. Here's a little tour of what we've been up to.

No, that's not an Instagram filter. The water really was that green. Guess who was first in?

Blackberries ripening!

We still need to work on technique at the track.

Waiting for dinner. Can't beat this view!

Brats for the boys.

I must have taken a similar shot hundreds of times. Sunset at the cabin never gets old.

New play equipment means work for Daddy, fun for Soren.

Quiet morning with (barely visible) cranes in the water.

Here's hoping that you had a beautiful weekend in your corner, too!

Swimming vacation

We're in re-entry mode here as we come back after a lovely mini-vacation in Chelan with Erik's family. We rented a house with a (heated) pool, and I bet you can guess where we were most of the time.

Soren and his cousins (five boys five and under!) were little fish the whole time. It's great seeing Soren in the water--it's really a great equalizer for kids. He's pretty much fearless in the water now; he can float, put his face in, open his eyes under the water, kick, and jump (er, belly flop). Now we just need to teach him some actual swimming moves like paddling so we can take off his life preserver.

Fish-eye view

Soren lounging with cousin Matt

Aunt Jenny with cousins Jerry and Will

Happy!

As a special gift to his parents, Soren slept through the night each night there. I think it's a combination of lots of sunshine and lots of swimming (as in, hours and hours every day). Poor kid is probably pretty disappointed in our Seattle home this week.

Celebrating a birthday, funky style

Soren's fifth birthday is coming up, and I'm about to send out save-the-date emails to family members. This year, I'm hoping to craft a day that is meaningful to both Soren and us, even though that will look different from the typical fifth birthday celebration. For example, I'm asking for no gifts. Really and firmly. They just don't make sense for Soren, and it makes for awkwardness for the parents and giftgivers. Instead, I'll be asking for cards or donations to our local Autism Center.

Soren and Uncle Jason at his second birthday. Love those chubby little piggies!

Fourth birthday with pizza (crust first, naturally).

The prep work has me thinking about what I'd like others to know about how to "do" birthdays for a special child. Here are some tips:

• Ask about gifts ahead of time. Toys are tricky--some kids like ours don't really play with toys or play obsessively with only a few kinds of them, and the developmental level of toys enjoyed may be lower or higher than you'd expect. But some parents may need specific items for therapy, like puzzles or stickers, or clothes.
• Come to a party or gathering with no expectations. Join us on our zen autism journey of just letting things unfold. Don't expect participation in blowing out candles, posing for pictures, or any opening of gifts. If our boy spends his birthday mostly watching the Cars movie or climbing trees, or if we end things early, let that be okay, because it certainly is okay with the birthday boy and us. 
• Remember that our kids may not understand the whole concept and importance of birthdays. 
• Birthday gatherings are sensory experiences: lots of people, lots of activity, probably new and different food, like birthday cake, and lots of attention. This can be really overwhelming for some kids like ours, and they may need to take a break in a separate room or by watching a movie on the iPad. This isn't rude; it's what we have to do to help our kids regulate.
• Even though we do the birthday thing differently, the parents of special needs kids still love it that you adore and celebrate our child. We'd love it if you could ask us what's special to our kid and how he can best feel love on his special day. For Soren, for example, it's wrestling, chasing, and tickling. It's unorthodox, but that's how you can relate to him, way more than with a cool new Lego set.
• Birthdays are emotional and bittersweet for the parents of special needs kids. They remind us how our kids are different, and how advancing age means a greater gulf between our kids and your typical kids. Help us by celebrating how much you appreciate our child's strengths, not what he can or can't do. Don't ask us how speech is progressing (it isn't) or how well toilet training is going (it's not even on our radar); ask us how Soren likes swimming with Daddy or what he loves to do these days. Reminisce with us about the day he was born. 

Now, on to the celebration!

Run!

I don't know why I didn't think of taking Soren to the high school track before. It's the perfect location for our little sprinting boy: fenced, huge open space, few other people. La Conner High School, near our little cabin, has the added benefit of an adjacent elementary school with play equipment. (And you can't beat this view.) Soren loves us to chase him, and he'll frequently peek behind him to make sure you're still playing the game. It's a great interaction.

I spend a lot of time chasing Soren around parking lots and stores and sidewalks, worrying about his safety and trying to juggle doing everything with one hand while I try to corral him with the other. And there have been a few scary times that Soren has "escaped" and just ran (away) like it's something he needed viscerally. I'm trying to remember to just harness that energy in a safe place rather than trying to extinguish that sprinting behavior. We'll be seeing that high school track more in our future.

Poem It Out

This month I've been lucky enough to take a wonderful online class, Poem It Out, led by Liz Lamoreux. It's a stress-free introduction (or re-introduction) to reading and writing poetry. I don't know how I missed connecting with poetry during high school and college (liberal arts FAIL?), but I'm making up for lost time. (Oh dear, you should see the new Moleskines and fancypancy pens that I now have the excuse to buy.)

I'm loving how poetry can hold the non-linear, illogical parts of life. It's been a way for me to process the big events and emotions of the past year. And of course I love to play with words. I feel a little like I'm revisiting my junior-high angst-y self when I'm writing my own poems, but I figure I need to pass through that developmental stage that I missed.

I'll share a less serious little ditty I wrote on the theme of "eavesdropping."

I don't think the toddler could open
his bird-mouth any wider
He calls upon
every
single 
finger 
to stuff in the bran muffin.
"Hold the milk down here, so it
doesn't spill," warns the mama.
And I think,
lady,
your two-year-old is eating a whole
bran muffin;
I think
spilled milk
will be the least of your
worries.

I'm really loving the poets Tony Hoagland, Christian Wiman, and Naomi Shihab Nye. You can find a bunch of their examples on the Poetry Foundation and Writer's Almanac websites. Here's one of my favorites from Naomi Shihab Nye:

Kindness

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing. 
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you every where
like a shadow or a friend.

I'd love to hear what poets and poems you love.

A lesson in waiting

Soren and I ventured to Arena Sport's new bouncy house area-- part of a huge old Magnuson hangar filled with bouncy house structures. I had this idea that Soren might like it, since he generally loves bouncing (especially on our bed). And he did love it--but in his unique way.

The hangar is a cavernous open building, filled with a health club, a kids' soccer club, an eating area, and this bouncy area, among other things. Talk about sensory overload: it was loud and echoing, filled with people, and with these giant structures that Soren hadn't seen before. So we took time for Soren to get used to it--I'm talking at least half an hour. First just sitting in a corner, biting nails, then rolling on the carpet in a patch of sunlight, then running back and forth among the bouncy houses, and finally, entering one of the structures on his own and gleefully discovering that, hey, you can bounce in this thing!

It was such a good reminder for me that Soren may need more time to process his surroundings. If I hadn't waited so long with him as he adjusted, he never would have had that sheer joy of jumping. I'll admit that many times I've seen him in distress or even uncertainty and just bagged an activity, perhaps out of my own embarrassment or impatience. (Oh, so you don't like sledding after 30 seconds? Bam, let's go back inside.) Thank you, little guy, for nudging me out of my expectations and letting me enjoy the moment with you.