Nothing more needs to be said.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Summer's here and the time is right for......doing family things?
OK ... so maybe that isn't the way the Stones wrote the song, but Mick and Keith are both grandparents now, so they would understand. Of course, their summer escapades include visits to exotic beaches on faraway islands while ours are to the local park pool. C'est le difference!
The "park pool" today is not like the one I grew up going to, an Olympic-size pool surrounded by concrete and a wire fence. Our local "Aquatic Center" has three different pools, a fountain garden, slides and lots of grass and shade. (Surrounded by a chain link fence ... some things just can't be improved upon.) Elijah loves going there and has graduated from the zero-depth entry to, as he calls it, "the big pool." With his life vest on, he fearlessly paddles out to where Dad has to bounce on his toes to keep his head above water (and no, that's not in four feet of water!).
The "park pool" today is not like the one I grew up going to, an Olympic-size pool surrounded by concrete and a wire fence. Our local "Aquatic Center" has three different pools, a fountain garden, slides and lots of grass and shade. (Surrounded by a chain link fence ... some things just can't be improved upon.) Elijah loves going there and has graduated from the zero-depth entry to, as he calls it, "the big pool." With his life vest on, he fearlessly paddles out to where Dad has to bounce on his toes to keep his head above water (and no, that's not in four feet of water!).
Here in the Midwest, Memorial Day is the opening of summer, and Elijah and I were at the pool the first weekend. With the temperature just barely reaching the high 70's, the water was a bit cold. How cold? As I waded in, this was my first thought:
But wade I did as the little guy, with his life vest on, took off for uncharted waters. His laughter and joy helped warm the water (but not that much!).Memorial Day weekend included not only a dip in the pool, but also a family outing to a free symphony concert and fireworks show at a local landmark. Elijah staked out his seat early for the show, but as you can see it was right in the middle of the walkway.
With some (ahem) coaxing, and the promise of shared frozen custard with Dad, he relented and moved onto the lawn with
everyone else.
everyone else.The next weekend we all went to a street festival in a historic district near us. As with other carnivals and fairs, Mom volunteered for Ferris wheel duty while Dad gladly took pictures from the ground. Elijah loved the rides, especially the variety of moonwalks available. All in all, a happy day for the family.
Which brings us up to last weekend. On Friday, the yearly Jazz Fest (which is held in a woo
ded area that houses a corporate park) was our destination. Although music filled the air, all Elijah wanted to do was go on the variety of moonwalks that were there....over and over and over again. After that it was time to cool off in the fountains, where the music finally caused him to have a case of "happy feet."
ded area that houses a corporate park) was our destination. Although music filled the air, all Elijah wanted to do was go on the variety of moonwalks that were there....over and over and over again. After that it was time to cool off in the fountains, where the music finally caused him to have a case of "happy feet."
All of this was just a prelude for Elijah's birthday party (the first of two, his camp is giving him one this week at Chuck-E-Cheese's, limo ride included) which was a huge success. Sarah agonized over what kind of party to have and decided to let our health club sponsor it (it's a great facility with a great kids program). Neighbors and friends from school (well, they want to be his friend, even though Elijah ignores them most of the time) ate cake and ice cream and then went swimming in the large INDOOR pool. Yes, even though we had scheduled the party to be at the outdoor pool facility, the staff thought it woul
d be too cold and moved it indoors. Since I was one of the parents in the pool, I was not entirely opposed to the decision (see earlier mention of pool temperature in this post).
d be too cold and moved it indoors. Since I was one of the parents in the pool, I was not entirely opposed to the decision (see earlier mention of pool temperature in this post). 
Elijah loved being lifted up from the water and the air was filled with lots of kids screaming in delight. In fact, bouncing with Elijah in the pool and all of the kids in the water having a great time, it felt as if summer had really arrived.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
An (almost) acquired taste
So here we are, midway through week two of Elijah's eight-week summer adventure at Camp Kidz Rock, a day camp for kids on the autism spectrum.
And what a summer it is shaping up to be! I was determined to find him a place that would be what summer camp is supposed to be: Active, outdoorsy, engaging and adventuresome. A place that understood autism and its limitations but was not encumbered by those limitations. A place that would mix him in with "typical" kids, without expecting him to BE a typical kid. A place that would never use the words "computer" and "camp" in the same sentence. (Really, that ought to be against the law.)
It appears that we have hit the jackpot. Already, Elijah has played kickball, T-ball, tag and Red Rover. He's had a skinned elbow, a sweaty forehead and grass-stained knees. He's learned new songs, tried out several musical instruments and gone on multiple field trips. He's learned about teamwork and sportsmanship. He'll be going to a minor-league baseball game this week. And he always has a smile on his face when I pick him up in the afternoons.
Most notable, though, is the fact that the camp therapists have actually coaxed him to eat foods that are outside his list.
If you've ever been a parent, or have even spent much time in the vicinity of small children, you know what I mean by the "list." It's that limited number of foods that most small children will eat -- pizza, chicken nuggets, that sort of thing. I remember being a fanatically picky eater as a child (and frankly, I still am), and I don't know a mother anywhere who hasn't pulled her hair out over the refusal of her little darlings to eat anything "normal." Many young children will eat only beige food, or go days or even weeks eating ONE food only (mac and cheese -- which of course is beige! -- seems to be the most common obsession of these one-dish diners).
Elijah's list, on the other hand, is fairly broad. He'll eat several types of protein (hamburgers, hot dogs, chicken nuggets, milk, cheese and eggs) as well as two vegetables (carrots and broccoli) and a smattering of other things, mostly sugar-filled. Granola bars are one of his favorite foods, and if you think this is a good thing, you obviously haven't read the nutrition and ingredient labels on granola bars lately.
But his list has not changed one iota in nearly four years. And when you are not yet six years old, that's quite a while.
Of course, the parenting "experts" of the world have all sorts of theories about why kids like Elijah (along with about 80 percent of his age cohort) are such picky eaters. They write entire books about it, and from what I can tell by reading the dust jackets and book reviews (which is as far as I will go), they cast blame squarely on the demise of the "family dinner hour."
The what?
I don't know about you, but the family dinner hour has never been much a part of my life, or the lives of most people I know. I did an informal poll at work, involving everyone who happened to be within earshot on a recent evening, and we are all frankly stumped about this "family dinner hour." One co-worker theorized that it was something that occurred back in the immediate post-World War II era, just before the invention of TV dinners. Another was convinced it was a complete fiction invented by previous generations to be used as a tool to heap guilt on working mothers who couldn't possibly get home in time to fix dinner and sports-obsessed fathers who kept their kids in organized youth activities well into the evening all year long.
In any case, even those co-workers who are well into their 60s suspect that this family dinner hour thing is a myth, because they have no memory of it, either as children or during their child-rearing years.
Perhaps it should be noted that this poll was underway at approximately 7:30 p.m., which would be ..... the family dinner hour? Beats us.
But Elijah is now learning all about family-style dining. That's because his camp takes place at a campus shared by a Montessori school, where family dining is the rule. The "campus" is actually a group of adjacent cottages on a quiet residential street with a very cozy, homey feeling. The campers eat with the Montessori kids, out on big picnic tables underneath gigantic oak trees on the school's playground.
The point, I've surmised, is to teach table manners. As in, pass the potatoes, please. May I have some more roast beef? Would you like some green beans? Thank you for the apple slices!
You'll notice I didn't put quotes around those words, because I myself have never heard them spoken by our little camper. Yes, we have the "please" and "thank you" thing down (we are not total cretins, after all), but .... roast beef? Green beans? Apple slices? These are nowhere near Elijah's list, and neither are most of the other things on the menu (things like "lemony pasta salad," for instance).
But through extensive coaxing and bribing, the camp staff have persuaded Elijah to eat two bites of a turkey sandwich, two bites of corn, three bites of cheese quesadillas and FOUR entire bites of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich -- a miracle I personally witnessed on a "family day" field trip to a botanical garden (Which also featured a lovely performance by professional harpists at a beautifully landscaped clearing in the woods. Elijah is absolutely captivated by stringed instruments.)
So far there has not been any consumption of fruit -- a food group that apparently affects Elijah the same way seafood and organ meats affect me. As in -- forget it.
Every day since he was born, he has seen me eat fruit -- I LOVE fruit -- and we are now approaching his sixth birthday without any interest on his part in the myriad varieties of fruit I put on his plate. (True quote from his pediatrician: "Sometimes, it takes up to 20 tries before a child is willing to put a new food in his mouth." Yeah, right. At this point, we have reached well over 1,000 tries. Thanks, doc.)
The camp staff have gotten as far as having Elijah put a bit of strawberry in his mouth, which he spits out as soon as he is allowed to. But still, this represents progress. And progress is a very exciting thing.
Next up: Elijah's birthday! The camp will be celebrating it, as it falls within the "parties and celebrations"-themed session, which begins next week. And of course, we have our own party planned for him, with about 10 or 12 young guests and their parents, poolside at our health club. In addition to an hour of pool time, there'll be plenty of pizza, cake and ice cream.
And, since it's HIS day -- not a bit of fruit in sight.
And what a summer it is shaping up to be! I was determined to find him a place that would be what summer camp is supposed to be: Active, outdoorsy, engaging and adventuresome. A place that understood autism and its limitations but was not encumbered by those limitations. A place that would mix him in with "typical" kids, without expecting him to BE a typical kid. A place that would never use the words "computer" and "camp" in the same sentence. (Really, that ought to be against the law.)
It appears that we have hit the jackpot. Already, Elijah has played kickball, T-ball, tag and Red Rover. He's had a skinned elbow, a sweaty forehead and grass-stained knees. He's learned new songs, tried out several musical instruments and gone on multiple field trips. He's learned about teamwork and sportsmanship. He'll be going to a minor-league baseball game this week. And he always has a smile on his face when I pick him up in the afternoons.
Most notable, though, is the fact that the camp therapists have actually coaxed him to eat foods that are outside his list.
If you've ever been a parent, or have even spent much time in the vicinity of small children, you know what I mean by the "list." It's that limited number of foods that most small children will eat -- pizza, chicken nuggets, that sort of thing. I remember being a fanatically picky eater as a child (and frankly, I still am), and I don't know a mother anywhere who hasn't pulled her hair out over the refusal of her little darlings to eat anything "normal." Many young children will eat only beige food, or go days or even weeks eating ONE food only (mac and cheese -- which of course is beige! -- seems to be the most common obsession of these one-dish diners).
Elijah's list, on the other hand, is fairly broad. He'll eat several types of protein (hamburgers, hot dogs, chicken nuggets, milk, cheese and eggs) as well as two vegetables (carrots and broccoli) and a smattering of other things, mostly sugar-filled. Granola bars are one of his favorite foods, and if you think this is a good thing, you obviously haven't read the nutrition and ingredient labels on granola bars lately.
But his list has not changed one iota in nearly four years. And when you are not yet six years old, that's quite a while.
Of course, the parenting "experts" of the world have all sorts of theories about why kids like Elijah (along with about 80 percent of his age cohort) are such picky eaters. They write entire books about it, and from what I can tell by reading the dust jackets and book reviews (which is as far as I will go), they cast blame squarely on the demise of the "family dinner hour."
The what?
I don't know about you, but the family dinner hour has never been much a part of my life, or the lives of most people I know. I did an informal poll at work, involving everyone who happened to be within earshot on a recent evening, and we are all frankly stumped about this "family dinner hour." One co-worker theorized that it was something that occurred back in the immediate post-World War II era, just before the invention of TV dinners. Another was convinced it was a complete fiction invented by previous generations to be used as a tool to heap guilt on working mothers who couldn't possibly get home in time to fix dinner and sports-obsessed fathers who kept their kids in organized youth activities well into the evening all year long.
In any case, even those co-workers who are well into their 60s suspect that this family dinner hour thing is a myth, because they have no memory of it, either as children or during their child-rearing years.
Perhaps it should be noted that this poll was underway at approximately 7:30 p.m., which would be ..... the family dinner hour? Beats us.
But Elijah is now learning all about family-style dining. That's because his camp takes place at a campus shared by a Montessori school, where family dining is the rule. The "campus" is actually a group of adjacent cottages on a quiet residential street with a very cozy, homey feeling. The campers eat with the Montessori kids, out on big picnic tables underneath gigantic oak trees on the school's playground.
The point, I've surmised, is to teach table manners. As in, pass the potatoes, please. May I have some more roast beef? Would you like some green beans? Thank you for the apple slices!
You'll notice I didn't put quotes around those words, because I myself have never heard them spoken by our little camper. Yes, we have the "please" and "thank you" thing down (we are not total cretins, after all), but .... roast beef? Green beans? Apple slices? These are nowhere near Elijah's list, and neither are most of the other things on the menu (things like "lemony pasta salad," for instance).
But through extensive coaxing and bribing, the camp staff have persuaded Elijah to eat two bites of a turkey sandwich, two bites of corn, three bites of cheese quesadillas and FOUR entire bites of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich -- a miracle I personally witnessed on a "family day" field trip to a botanical garden (Which also featured a lovely performance by professional harpists at a beautifully landscaped clearing in the woods. Elijah is absolutely captivated by stringed instruments.)
So far there has not been any consumption of fruit -- a food group that apparently affects Elijah the same way seafood and organ meats affect me. As in -- forget it.
Every day since he was born, he has seen me eat fruit -- I LOVE fruit -- and we are now approaching his sixth birthday without any interest on his part in the myriad varieties of fruit I put on his plate. (True quote from his pediatrician: "Sometimes, it takes up to 20 tries before a child is willing to put a new food in his mouth." Yeah, right. At this point, we have reached well over 1,000 tries. Thanks, doc.)
The camp staff have gotten as far as having Elijah put a bit of strawberry in his mouth, which he spits out as soon as he is allowed to. But still, this represents progress. And progress is a very exciting thing.
Next up: Elijah's birthday! The camp will be celebrating it, as it falls within the "parties and celebrations"-themed session, which begins next week. And of course, we have our own party planned for him, with about 10 or 12 young guests and their parents, poolside at our health club. In addition to an hour of pool time, there'll be plenty of pizza, cake and ice cream.
And, since it's HIS day -- not a bit of fruit in sight.
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