Marveling at what used to seem like an impossibility

Yesterday I clicked on my facebook memories and scrolled through posts I'd written and pictures I'd posted, going as far back as nine years. I read that nine years ago, the feeding therapist Isaac had at the time, told me he probably would never be able to chew food and would have to drink all of his meals. Nine years later and she wasn't completely wrong. He can't chew food--though we did give our best effort for about a year, but he doesn't necessarily drink all of his meals--though they are all pureed, he does eat them with a spoon, so I won't count that as drinking. 

Isaac's preferred food is Silk Almond milk yogurt and 8 ounces of Kate Farms formula. He would have that exact meal five times each day if I would let him. We let him have this meal two times each day and he has to have 'soup' for the rest of his meals. We started calling every meal except yogurt, 'soup', only because that's what the inpatient feeding clinic called it. Unfortunately, these 'soups' don't magically appear. I blend food (using my trusty blendtec blender) for him every day--sometimes multiple times each day if I haven't blended large enough quantities to last more than one meal. 

It has only been during the last few years that Isaac has been feeding himself independently. Prior to this accomplishment of self feeding, I had to spend painful thirty minute increments trying to get Isaac to eat all of his soup. It was a situation where he could launch an Angry Bird (maybe two), and then he had to let me feed him a bite of soup. It was quite unpleasant. Then, after the meal, he was rewarded with time on his iPad. It was a horrible cycle and it has taken years and many baby steps to wean from that whole situation. I won't divulge all of those baby steps today because it would probably be horribly boring. I'm thankful that 99% of all meals these days are accomplished with little fanfare and he feeds himself with such a rapid speed in order to finish the meal as quickly as possible. Oh, and he doesn't get screen time after every meal anymore (only breakfast). 

Have you ever met anyone who didn't like to eat? Who, even if you offered them the most decadent dessert they would refuse it? Me either. Until Isaac. It's hard to understand. 

One of Isaac's preferred soups is what I call peanut-butter-sandwich-soup. It's exactly as it sounds: two slices of bread, a banana, two tablespoons of peanut butter, sometimes some carrots or whatever other random items I throw in the blender, and some oat milk. I made this soup for him this evening and stuck it in the fridge telling him that whenever he was hungry, his next soup would be ready for him. Usually I have to keep him on track for each meal because he eats approximately every three hours, but since this was the last meal of the day he had some leeway to choose when he wanted to eat. I sat down in the living room to read my book and about twenty minutes later I heard him come upstairs from the basement and get his soup out of the fridge. He put his soup in the microwave, turned it on, and then I heard him take it out of the microwave and blow on it, hard, many times (even though I know it wasn't hot--we heat all soups for only 30-45 seconds which is barely room temperature because he doesn't like anything too hot or too cold), and then he brought his soup into the dining room and sat down and continued blowing on it to cool it down. Meanwhile, I sat unnoticed in the living room, watching him quietly. He sat for a moment and then grabbed the towel that he uses to wipe his face (leftover habit from the feeding clinic--it must be a washcloth type of towel, not a paper napkin or paper towel), and proceeded to rapidly spoon soup into his mouth. 

I observed all of this unnoticed, and I kept it that way because I wanted to take a moment to marvel at how much progress he's made in nearly eleven years (his eleventh birthday is next week). The fact that he noted his hunger, stopped playing video games, got his own soup from the fridge and heated it up on his own without asking for any help, may not seem like much, but it's absolutely amazing for him. I'm so thankful for this brief, seemingly ordinary moment. 

Nostalgia

Nostalgia: a wistful desire to return in thought or in fact to a former time in one’s life; a sentimental yearning for the happiness of a former place or time. (Dictionary.com)

Last week I heard a discussion on NPR about nostalgia and since then I’ve been thinking about the memories that cause me to experience nostalgia. These are a few:

1. My dad is an avid cyclist. Actually he’s avid for all things fitness and I can only hope to be as in shape as he is when I’m 63. He got my sister and me involved in biking pretty early and that soon led to bike trips. This is essentially where people pay money to ride hundreds of miles with hundreds of other people and then sleep in tents every night. As an adult, I’ve been confused by my friends who pay money to run long distances in races, but I recently joined that trend and even though I still think it’s a little crazy, I’m planning to keep at it.

I believe we took our first bike trip when my sister was twelve and I was fourteen. An important aspect of the bike trip was training, because on average we would need to bike fifty miles each day, for six days. So my dad set out to get us in shape. Just so readers have a point of reference, my mom refuses to let my dad even attempt to “get her in shape”. He’s intense about training and exercise; he’s been logging his workouts and exercise goals since he was a child, so it literally makes me laugh as I’m writing this to think about my dad setting out to prepare us for a bike trip and the thoughts that were probably running through his mind. His regimen meant long rides on the weekends and some training on the stationary bike. He would load up the Honda Civic hatchback with our bikes and we’d head out somewhere in the country to bike a planned route. My dad had these little maps that he attached to the top of his bike bag and I wouldn’t have known if we ever got lost or not. We just knew we were going to bike until we got back to the car.

Getting back to the car was the fun part. Once the bikes were back on the bike rack, we’d drive to a gas station and my dad would buy Gatorade and a medium bag of spicy Doritos. And my sister and I would sit in the back seat chugging Gatorade and eating all of the Doritos. It was the best. I’m not sure why, since as an adult I never ever drink Gatorade and I rarely eat Doritos, but this is the memory I always come back to when I think about those bike trips and those training rides.

(There are many other memories regarding those bike trips that I’ll share in another post)

2. My dad has always worked late. He has a demanding job as a psychologist and after seeing patients well into the evening he would go to the gym, so this meant my sister and I spent lots of evenings alone with my mom. We’d often just stay home and do homework, play outside, or watch Rescue 911 or Home Improvement--which is really funny to me now because my husband grew up without a television and he’s recently been watching reruns of Home Improvement since we don’t have cable. Sometimes though, my mom took us to Beachwood Place Mall. Not for shopping, just to walk around--something to do in the winter I guess.

I tried to find a little history about the mall and its renovations, but couldn’t find much. The mall is very different today than it was in the 90s. For us, the mall was very exciting because where they now have an open area with escalators, they used to have a fountain with a glass elevator that would lower near the water. Near the fountain was the food court, whereas today, the food court is on the second floor. We almost never ate at the food court because it was too expensive, or my mom didn’t want us to eat unhealthy food and just told us it was too expensive, so instead, she would pack sandwiches in brown lunch bags for each of us and we’d sit on the steps to the fountain. My sister and I thought this was great fun--especially watching the glass elevator going up and down. Whenever I go to Beachwood Mall and pass through that area I remember sitting there, in a spot that no longer exists the way I remember it, with my mom and my sister eating our packed sandwiches just outside of the food court.

3. When I see mothers nursing babies I feel a pang of longing for the many hours I spent nursing Isabella. Isabella’s infancy to toddlerhood was simply the best time in my life. I felt a sense of belonging for the first time in my life and I was proud of my body for the first time in my life. Breastfeeding and La Leche League led me to establishing my most valued friendships with women I wouldn’t have met otherwise. Eleven years later each of those women, even though a few I haven’t seen in over a year, hold a very special place in my heart.

I used to sit in a very uncomfortable glider I bought at a second hand store, nursing Isabella to sleep and singing Amazing Grace and Grace Flows Down over and over again. Isabella would fall into that drunken baby stupor, milk dribbling down her cheek while I soaked in the weight of her, and felt as if I couldn’t bear to part with her, ever.

I think nostalgia shows up when you least expect it. It’s so interesting how very small, seemingly inconsequential details, will immediately jog a memory. Last week, we were having dinner and Walter asked how my grandma was doing, and before I responded he said, “‘bout half?’” because this is what my grandpa always said when we called and asked, “how are you, grandpa?” In the moment, I had to blink away tears and still do as I’m writing this.

Maybe after reading this, you can take a moment to remember the “happiness of a former place or time”.

Why do people have kids?

Last week Isabella and I were in the car together, and she was in the back seat because I don’t let her sit in the front. I don’t think I’m ready to have a front seat companion and even though she's eleven, she's probably not even big enough. My general rule has always been, no talking in the car. It’s my sanctuary or something. The rule started when Isabella was a toddler. She was basically born talking and since I’m a fairly quiet person who is extremely sensitive to noise, it just made sense that everyone should cease talking for at least ten minutes on the drive to the library, or the grocery store. So, it’s worked all of these years. My kids look at books or we listen to an audiobook, sit in silence, or very rarely, listen to music. But then over the last year I’ve realized I should probably allow talking because that’s supposed to be a good time for parents to bond with their kids or something like that.

With the ban on talking lifted, it meant on this particular day that I got to hear about Meth and how it destroys your body and could very easily blow up your house if you try to make the drug. Noted. So far sixth grade has been most beneficial for learning all about drugs and alcohol in health class. I don’t think she’s learned anything else. And as I was listening to the riveting facts regarding Meth, I thought, why do people have kids? I mean, really, what is the reason? This also gives you a window into the weird thoughts in my brain.

When you sign up to have kids, you also sign up to be in a perpetual state of exhaustion, give them all of your money, put stress on your marriage, have stretch marks in places you didn’t even know you could have stretch marks, and thanks to birth, lose your ability to hold your pee. So why on earth do millions of people sign up for this? And why do the people with kids get confused when other people don’t want kids?

I actually don’t have an answer. I googled: “why do people have kids” and it led me down the rabbit hole that is the internet, citing reasons like, “to give and receive unconditional love” and “fix the mistakes of their parents”. First of all, Isaac doesn’t even tell me he loves me back. When I drop him off at school I say, “have a fun day! I love you!” and he says, “bye, Charley!” and runs to the building. He also doesn’t hug me, so the whole love things is definitely not a good reason to have a kid. Secondly, you might fix the mistakes of your own parents but you are surely going to make a million of your own mistakes, so that’s a horribly selfish reason to bring a human into the world.

I got pregnant with Isabella when I was in my last year of college (which was actually my fifth year of college). Before that I had a surprise pregnancy and before that, I wasn’t planning to ever have kids. I know, crazy turn of events. Doesn't make sense to me either, but something weird happens to the brain when you read those two lines on a positive pregnancy test. For me, after the panic dissipated, I thought what power my body had to hold and grow a life. And then I immediately fell in love. I am completely aware that it may not be this way for everyone, but with our first pregnancy that came and went so quickly, I fell in love, plain and simple. And though my miscarriage was extremely early, apparently these days it’s called a “chemical pregnancy” which seems so cruel, I felt like a mom, instantly. Because what does a mom do: protect, grow, love, nourish...whether you’re newly pregnant or the mother of three...and as I had a miscarriage, I felt I’d failed at all of those things.

From that point it seemed only natural to me that I would want to get pregnant again. I desperately wanted that life inside of me again. So I did, and I graduated from college about a month before Isabella was born. Two years later I still wasn't interested in having a second baby. I loved Isabella so deeply (and still do, obviously) that I couldn’t imagine having another child and thought we were perfect with just Isabella. But after some convincing, I told Walter he had two months and if I didn’t get pregnant one of those two months we were done. I got pregnant the first month. And of course, I fell in love.

But all of this still doesn’t the answer the question: why do people have kids. I mean, I didn’t have any good reasons to have children or get pregnant while I was still in college and planning to follow the path to become and English Professor.

So I thought about it some more and I came up with a few reasons:

1. Once they’re old enough, they can get stuff for you so you don’t have to get up and do it yourself. This is assuming they can actually find what you ask for, so this isn’t always beneficial since kids are born blind and I'm not entirely sure that the male species ever recovers their sight. Literally, my kids can’t find something that’s right in front of them.
2. They provide an excellent source of entertainment. Kids are basically a built in entertainment system. From the first sound they make you’re just in awe that they could do anything so wonderful as that little coo.
3. They say ridiculously adorable things. Like last week when we were at a store and Isaac said, “hey Isabella, when we get outside, do you want to play that game where we try not to step on the cracks?” Obviously Isabella rolled her eyes and said, “no, I don’t want to play that game” in a disgusted voice, but she’s 11 and has been kidnapped temporarily by monsters that I assume will return her loving self when she’s about twenty.
4. Hypothetically, they’ll take care of you when you’re old. This is assuming you don’t screw up their childhood.
5. Even though I tell the people in my house if they say, “mom” one more time I’m going to change my name or explode, I still love it.
6. Now that they’re older we can actually do fun things like play games that I actually enjoy and have real conversations...about meth.

This list is not conclusive and I don't pretend that it comes close to answering the main question.

I never had a strong pull to be a mother. In my mind it’s hard to believe we actually signed up for this job. Kids manage to drain you physically and mentally, every single day. They are literally the neediest creatures on the planet and always need food. But we get up every morning (and for many of you, multiple times each night) and do it all over again, pray we get it right, and love them as deeply as one can possibly love another.

Emotional Growth

The first day of school is next week and suddenly I felt like I needed to start preparing Isaac. Last night I got into bed with him and started on my spiel about how we handle situations that make us mad and what to do if someone says something that isn’t nice. Isaac doesn't like when people bump into him, or even accidentally brush up against him--this makes carpet time and standing in line particularly challenging. He seemed to understand that yelling isn't the right path, though we’ll see how it goes when all of this is put into practice. Out of nowhere he started talking about a girl he liked at school and all about how he asked her to be his friend and that his heart thumped out of his chest when he saw her go down the slide—to show me this he joined his hands over his heart and pulled them away from his body and back in. And it dawned on me that I always pray for Isaac to have friends, or even just one buddy, because we’ve never known if he would be able to understand love and relationship the way we do. But I’m finding that as he develops he is starting to understand emotions and is expressing compassion in ways he never did before. Sometimes he even volunteers a hug which is always a special moment for me.

About a month ago, I rested my head on my arms against the kitchen counter and Isaac said, “you have a headache?” I was shocked. He’s never asked or seemed to empathize with another’s feelings or emotions. This was an incredible first. Since then he has asked me if I felt sad, and another time, if I was angry. This is really exciting progress as it shows me that his realm of understanding emotions is broadening. Perhaps this will even help him express his own feelings since to this day, when he is upset, language is the first skill to go.

As Isaac talked about the little girl who made his heart swell, I knew that I needed to start praying for his future life partner and for Isaac's sweet innocence. I think my son will be able to understand love and heartache, and passion and pleasure. It makes me happy to think that he may some day have a meaningful relationship with someone outside of our family. Since the day Isaac was diagnosed, I was saddened by what might be a lack of friendship and quality relationships in his life. But we have seen glimpses of possibility, and because relationship is central to being human, this makes me so happy. 

Maine Vacation Day 3

Today we made our way to Port Clyde and went back to the little beach at Owl's Head since we loved it so much. I'd wanted to go back to Rockland to see if the local art shop was open, but Isaac was done for the day and insisted we head back to the house. He's been super flexible on this trip, so we ended the day's adventure and came home to relax which was needed anyway.


Drift-in Beach--the tide was in so we only stopped for a few minutes.

 

COFFEE!!! We enjoyed a break and a cappuccino in Port Clyde:

 Back at Owl's Head Beach

I try not to get a tan. As you can see, my legs reflect the sun. Only cool people are proud of this.

I have to take pictures of myself so it looks like I was on this vacation, too.

Marshall Point Lighthouse

Maine Vacation Days 1 and 2

All I keep thinking on this trip, is that Isaac has come so far and this allows us to do some things that we used to avoid. Yesterday we were able to go kayaking as a family and I talked to Isaac beforehand about how brave he would have to be since the kayak would rock a little bit. He said, "okay, I try" and handled the whole experience beautifully. Isabella, our born explorer and adventurer, took charge of her own kayak. She had one moment of panic after discovering a spider in her kayak, but was able to work through that issue. As for me, water in general makes me anxious and I was trying not to worry about the kids drowning for most of our kayak trip, but everything went well--no one tipped over, and we all made it back to shore unscathed--except for that spider.

As you'll see in the photos, Charley is with us on this vacation. It's one of our first vacations including a dog and I couldn't be happier. Stella is at home in Ohio enjoying having the run of our house while my mother-in-law takes care of her. Charley did well on the fourteen hour drive. We tried to block him in the back of the van, but he seems to think his head should be between the driver and passenger seat and creates his own third seat (just for his head). The kids did very well and for the most part we were able to maintain Isaac's meal schedule. It's so hard to stick to that schedule when we are away from home and unfortunately, the change in his routine is causing some very frustrating meal-time issues, but that was to be expected.

We've rented a house for the week in Friendship, Maine. We share the property with the owners who are very nice and have allowed us the use of their kayaks. The following pictures are from our first morning walk to the edge of the property:

In the evening went found a little beach area where because the tide was out, we could walk out to the little island to the left.

More mud on the dog...

Isaac stayed in pretty much the same spot the whole time, but he's becoming more interested in exploring.

Random spot where we stopped to check the map on our way to Owl's Head Lighthouse.

Walk to Owl's Head Lighthouse:

Beach area where we spent a while looking for shells and sea glass. I loved this beach area. The rock formations are so interesting and I like looking at how the shadows fall along the crevices. I'll have lots of material for my next watercolor class.

Attempts for a family photo:

In Rockland. By this point Charley is tired of wandering around a small town and decided to lie down in a flower bed--oops! I went to Over the Rainbow Yarn Shop and can't wait to start some new projects with Maine-made yarn!

Outside the Andrew Wyeth Museum. I'd like to go back. We didn't have enough time to actually go in the museum.

Hike to Mt. Battie. Everyone was exhausted and sweaty since it was a very steep climb. I was worried about Isaac but he was a trooper. By this point we were all getting a little slap-happy and then a little angry. Unfortunately, even with the steep climb, we didn't make it to the top since we lost the trail. Walter went back for the car and we then drove the .5 miles left to the summit.

By this point I'm angry at Mt. Battie, and reluctantly took these photos. Isaac sat in the car and refused to get out--ha!

Everyone earned some ice cream, so we stopped in Rockport at River Ducks Ice Cream.

Ironically enough, I think Isaac is the only sleeping well on this trip. He's been snoring so loudly that Isabella has been sleeping on the couch in the living-room.