Daddy's Days and Elijah's Escapades

No Tricks...Only Treats

2011-10-25T19:48:00.008-05:00

As Halloween approaches and the school year is ending its first quarter, both Sarah and I can say we are happy with Elijah's progress. His social-skills therapy (which took place at, as he called it, "the playhouse") has ended for the time being, and it has, without question, moved him forward in his limited interpersonal relationships. A wave and "hello" at a first meeting are much easier for him, and his goodbyes at school are always punctuated with a hug a proper farewell. There are still mistakes and some awkwardness, but there is no doubt progress as well.

Another example of how far Elijah has come occurred at a local park, where he shared the see-saw with another child (after first asking if he could play with him) and had a very sweet interaction with a baby girl. She had grabbed a tennis ball Elijah was playing with, and when her mother took it from her to return it to Elijah, she started crying hysterically. Elijah, sensing how upset she was, walked over and gave the ball back to her, which put a smile on both of their faces.

As wonderful as that scene was, something even more special happened later that night when we went to our favorite restaurant for dinner. While we were waiting for a table, Elijah walked up to another little girl who had been playing at the park that day and said hello and asked her if she had been at the park. Although her "yes" was delivered with a look that will serve her well 20 years from now when she tells a guy at a bar to get lost, the fact that Elijah recognized her and initiated a conversation without prompting was a major step forward.

Because of the incredible weather, we have been making trips to a park (as well as taking endless walks through various housing developments in our area to view the cul-de-sacs and the basketball goals that populate them) as part of our weekend routine. Last week, a visit to another park (this one by my office) yielded both an attempt at kite flying (unsuccessful) and some down time with Mom. And of course, some time on the swings as well.

During all of these activities, Elijah has been more engaged and aware of both situations and people around him. Even though there is much whining about a variety of subjects, he is quite clear as to what

he likes (listening to "Smooth" by Santana in the car at least twice in a row) and what he doesn't appreciate (the fact that he cannot eat "unhealthy food" for every meal.) These give- and-takes may not seem like much, but compared with our interactions with him even a year ago, they show the incremental steps forward that give us great hope for the future.

Then there are those moments when things don't go as we hope. Last weekend, our health club held its annual Halloween party. We thought it would be a great idea to ask Elijah's friend Janey to join us, and Elijah loved the idea.

Dressed in costumes, the two of them seemed to be

having fun. Elijah got to rock-climb, and he and

Janey played in the bouncy house for quite a while. But then Elijah, being Elijah, insisted they watch a movie and then go play a computer game (a variation on his latest obsession, "Angry Birds") at the child center. Janey, being more patient than any child should be, agreed to this, and when it was time to leave was happy to come back to the house for some lunch and more playtime. Elijah would have none of that! He insisted she go home immediately, and when this demand was denied, he went crying up to his room.

Realizing (as he always does) that this behavior was not going to change anything, he came

downstairs and proceeded to draw with Janey as they watched "Alice in Wonderland."

We later found out part of the reason for Elijah's bad behavior was that he was hoping that another little girl from his school would come over, and I guess he was fearful that the two would meet. That playdate was finalized today, and the two will hopefully have a fun time tomorrow (the little guy has been smiling all day since he got the news!). The fact that he really wants his playmates to come over (after some unnecessary drama) and that these little girls are so sweet and understanding about his quirks, is something very special and couldn't make us happier.

Walking Man

2011-09-27T20:21:00.018-05:00

There's been lots of walking around here the past few weeks as Elijah has started a social skills group twice a week that allows Sarah to burn off some calories as she walks around the neighborhood that the "playhouse" (as Elijah calls the therapist's home) is located. That is in addition to the nightly walks Elijah insists we take as he makes his way through every cul-de-sac in every housing development within a 10-mile radius of our home. After these walks, he immediately goes home and re-creates the street we just walked on, drawing the homes and basketball goals he viewed. The nuances of each street and goal are very evident to his discerning eye, but to be honest, neither Sarah and I see the detail he picks up on.

As I mentioned, Elijah has been involved in a new social skills group, and on a recent trip to our local Barnes & Noble, I witnessed a major change in a behavioral situation. As he approached the toy train set in the children's section, he initiated an introduction with a woman there and asked her son if he could share one of the trains. Since both of these actions

were done without any prompting, I couldn't wait to tell Sarah about this new development. The fact that his voice and tone were eerily similar to Eddie Haskell of the "Leave It To Beaver" show was perhaps the only drawback.

The first walk this past week that was actually scheduled was the Catwalk, a fundraiser at Elijah's elementary school. Elijah walked with his para, Ms. Pennie, and seemed (as the picture shows) to have had a great time, not only at the walk, but with a friend afterward.

The other walk this past weekend was when Elijah, Sarah and myself were joined by friends and family at the Autism Speaks Walk at the Kansas Speedway. The weather was perfect, and little guy was excited to see the members of his walk team show up to support him. The arrival of Miss Nikki (who had worked with Elijah earlier this year as part of her graduate work) and her husband brought a big smile to Elijah's face. He was delighted that his friend Janey (and her mother) came to walk with him. As always, the arrival of Uncle George and Aunt Julie brought a smile to his face, as did the arrivals of Ali and April, who have gotten to know Elijah while working at the child center at our health club. But NOTHING compared to seeing another former worker at the club, Kelsey, who left the area to go off to college.

When Elijah saw her, his first words were, "Kelsey, I've missed you," and the ear-to-ear grin

and hug were a joy to see. Elijah held hands with Kelsey and Nikki almost the entire walk, enjoying their company so much he wanted to keep on walking (as long as he got a cupcake from the refreshment area).

After the walk, it was time to say goodbye, not only to our team members, but to all those who have gotten to know Elijah through the years and were at Resource Center at the walk site. This included not only Miss Tiffany, who runs the summer camp Elijah goes to and also teaches him piano, but his new social skill therapists as well (Melissa, Melinda and Eileen), who gave Elijah a big hug and hello.

Once he had said all of his goodbyes to his "older" women, Elijah turned his attention to his friend Janey, and the two of them ran off to the inflatables area and played there until the guys who owned the equipment finally deflated them to go home. (Elijah told me that as the air came out of them, they "looked like the Witch in the Wizard of Oz when she melted.")

Just like last year, it was a great day for the walk, and the support we had made it very special for our family. For those of you who walked with us, supported us with a contribution or did both, I can't begin to thank you enough. From the moment Elijah got there, his smile never left his face. Like any parents, we have good and bad days, but sometimes we seem to carry a burden that Elijah has no clue even exists, so the smile he had on walk day was one that we could truly share and relish in. As Elijah rushed over to give Janey a hug as she left, I thought about how far we had come over the past year and how we should never take for granted those little gestures that can mean so much.

At Last..Second Grade and TJ's

2011-08-22T20:18:00.014-05:00

Excitement (as least for Mom and Dad) has been rampant here as both school and Trader Joe's opened their doors these past weeks. Trader Joe's has been all that we remembered it to be, good food at a good value. They also have discovered how to cover every possible edible item known to man in chocolate and package it in huge quantities at a ridiculously low price. Is there any doubt why I am now on a bullet train to obesity?

School has been very good so far. Unfortunately, Elijah's summer friend Janey is not in his class, but many of his previous classmates who have befriended and looked out for him are. Sarah's efforts at "Mom School," though frustrating at times, will prove to be a great aid to Elijah as he navigates his classwork. Among one of the amazing aspects of Elijah's brain is his uncanny ability to remember names. As I walked the hallways with him the first day of class, I was struck at

how he greeted everyone he saw by name. Be it a teacher he has never had, a custodian, librarian or aide, he knew everybody's name. What warmed my heart though was that they all knew his name as well. There can be no better

feeling for a parent than to know the environment at their child's school is so open and warm.

So school is off to a good start. Piano lessons, after a month's hiatus, will start again in September. A social skills group is being formed with Elijah as one of its members. And every day as school lets out, he insists on hugging at least two classmates and talks excitedly about going back to class the next day. We know it is going to be a journey with Elijah, but he appears to be raring to go!

Hot Fun in the Summertime

2011-08-07T20:19:00.009-05:00

This past weekend, we took a family road trip down to the area where Sarah grew up -- a trip that forced both Elijah and me to meet one of our dreaded enemies head-on: the great outdoors.

Sarah's father has for years wanted to show the two "outdoorsmen" the natural springs and river swimming areas in the wooded region around his hometown. So this past weekend, we followed him through winding two-lane roads to see some really gorgeous areas and swim at Rocky Falls, a true "swimming hole."

Although the heat and humidity was tough at times, the little guy and I survived. As we drove

down a stretch of highway, Elijah commented that this was "a very long street" and kept looking for a set of Golden Arches to convince himself that civilization was just around the corner. The swimming hole was a great success as everyone cooled off in the clean river. Elijah even donned a swim mask to view the fish and rock formations beneath his feet. (We have tried all summer to get him to wear goggles at the pool with absolutely no success. I guess a river offers more sights than the bottom of our park pool!)

But perhaps the most amazing aspect of the day occurred after we had taken a long and extremely curvy path, involving several country highway intersections that were indistinguishable from one another, to get to a spring. As we were headed back to the main highway, Sarah's dad wanted us to follow him on a different path than the one we had taken into the forest. When we reached the intersection at which her dad turned in the other direction, Elijah screamed from the back seat: "Wrong way! We need to go the other way." If we indeed had been heading back to the main highway to go to our hotel, the little guy, a human GPS, would have been absolutely correct.

So we survived our weekend in the forests of the Ozarks, with a great deal of help from the previously mentioned Golden Arches. (A take-out meal for Elijah allowed Sarah and me to eat at an "adult" restaurant while little guy chowed down on his McDonald's.) And little guy enjoyed the river so much that we are planning a canoe float trip next summer in the same area. Hmmm ... I wonder how long chicken selects stay warm while on the river?

Oh, the Places We'll Go

2011-07-20T06:48:00.012-05:00

It was my privilege a couple of weeks ago to attend a conference in Philadelphia sponsored by Autism Speaks, which used a variation on the Dr. Seuss book "Oh, the Places You'll Go" as the conference theme. More than 200 people associated with Autism Speaks fundraising walks from coast to coast (and Canada) came together in the City of Brotherly Love to share experiences, hopes and dreams for all of our children who have been diagnosed as being on the spectrum. On a more personal note, this was the first time since Elijah was born that he and I had not spent the night under the same roof , which apparently was more difficult for me than for him. (After Elijah greeted me with a huge smile upon my return, his comment a few minutes later when didn't get his way was, "Daddy, I think you need to go back to Pennsylvania.")

Eight weeks of summer camp are coming to a close, and though it has been for the most part fun (or at least as much as we can ascertain from Elijah's limited vocabulary), there have been some moments of angst. Having escaped the "terrible twos," we are now going through the "execrable eights." Tantrums, brought on by the excessive heat, exhaustion or both, have reared their head on a couple of occasions. Luckily, those moments have passed quickly and sweetness (or at least the relative sweetness of an 8-year-old boy) returns. It also appears as if a new vocation -- as a tattoo artist (see photo at right) -- holds some promise

for the little guy.

His social skills continue to be a work in progress. He's moving forward, but the steps are awkward, and he does stumble on occasion. One can sometimes see the frustration he feels as he attempts to say the right thing, which in itself is a breakthrough. His interactions with his new friend Janey range from total indifference (a step back) to taking turns while playing a game, talking with her and responding to everyday social activities (major step forward). A recent visit involving music, bouncing and slipping and sliding featured much of those positive endeavors.

With one more road trip planned for next month (a visit to Sarah's parents and a nature (ugh) trip to the Ozarks), Elijah's summer has been one of real movement forward. Though there have been setbacks (rote speech patterns, short bursts of anger and tantrums that seem to come out of nowhere) the past few months have been positive and fun for the little guy. He continues to do well on the piano, "mom school" is getting him prepared for second grade, and he has actually shown some interest in playing a sport. Elijah loves "Oh, the Places You'll Go," and when I saw that the Autism Speaks conference had the same title, I thought that was a good omen. I can also say today that though Elijah will never be a "normal" kid, with the progress he is making, the words "Oh, the Places You'll Go" mean a little more in my heart than they did before. It won't be an easy journey, but at least he's starting on a path.

Another round with Elijah

2011-06-12T16:28:00.018-05:00

A busy summer for Elijah has started, and if the first month is any indication, it will be a successful one. The last day of first grade was also our departure date for a trip out to California to see family, friends and clients. Outside of the continuing battle with Mom over who got to use the new Nook that Sarah got for the trip, the little guy was happy to see Grandpa and Grandma and to stay at "the little house at Aunt Kathy's." A trip to the Santa Monica Pier provided an opportunity to play at the beach and ride both a Ferris wheel and the Scrambler. A round of mini golf, an early birthday gift for Elijah of a Lotso Bear (from Toy Story 3) from our friends Judy and Marko, and a party (with cake) for Grandpa's 86th birthday rounded out a very pleasant but too-short vacation.

After we got back home, it was time to celebrate Elijah's birthday. Since we were going to be out of town on his special day, we decided to celebrate a few days early. Uncle George and Aunt Julie came by to share in a giant birthday cookie along with Elijah's new friend Janey, who not only was in his class this past year but also lives just a few doors down the street. Elijah really enjoyed having Janey over, and with some newfound social skills, he insisted on getting her a fork for her piece of cookie. Later they went down to the basement and played games together, with Elijah fully interacting with her on a level that would seem run-of-the-mill to most but was something beyond what we had seen before with him. Perhaps it's because Janey seems to understand Elijah quirkiness so well (she told her mom that if Elijah is ignoring her it isn't because he's being mean, it's because his brain doesn't work the same way as hers) that Elijah is so quick and happy to share and be a real friend to her. One day at the park pool, Elijah told me with a big grin on his face that his FRIEND Janey was about to go down the water slide. Again, that may be routine for some, but it's a major step forward for Elijah.

After receiving his birthday gift -- a coveted Buzz Lightyear action figure -- Elijah was on the road again as we headed down to Springfield, Mo., for a work reunion (Sarah's old job was at the newspaper there), a birthday trip to a water park and cave exploring with Grandpa and Grandma Smith at Fantastic Caverns, the only drive-through cave in the United States. Elijah insisted on bringing not just Buzz, but all the other characters from Toy Story on the trip. Hopefully, the people in the hotel room next to us weren't too startled by laser blasts and calls from Buzz for Space Rangers to attack, especially when they took place at the crack of dawn.

The water park was a huge success for the little guy. For years, Elijah has refused to go down the water slides at our local pools (this made little sense, since he had no fear of jumping off the high diving board). But at the water park, he went down slide after slide, rode a lazy river (well, had Dad push him!) and had a great time. Of course, the rainbow lollipop that he wanted (and got) made it a true birthday celebration. And, as the result of our trip, the local water slides now have a new customer.

While all of this has been occurring, Elijah has been going to camp four days a week, meeting with a social skills tutor twice a week and taking piano lessons once a week. All these activities have had an extremely positive impact on the little guy. Camp has awakened a desire to go out and play tennis with Dad. The social skills lessons seem to taking hold and have led to proper behavior (on occasion). Elijah is doing so well on the piano that Sarah was roused out of her sleep on the 4th of July by Elijah playing a spirited version of "Yankee Doodle Dandy." Of course, none of this progress would be as advanced if it wasn't for Sarah's "Mom School" daily lessons, which include math, reading comprehension and piano practice, along with occasional geography lessons. Her efforts have easily magnified any gains the little guy has made.

The biggest news in recent days has been the loss of a front tooth that seemed to be on the cusp of falling out for weeks. After what seemed like an eternity, it popped out on the ride home from camp one day. At this writing the tooth right next to it is barely still attached and if it comes out the title of this blog could have a double meaning: A round of golf or the results of

a round of boxing (Think of Leon Spinks.)

Spring into Summer

2011-05-14T17:48:00.020-05:00

Although there have been no real new milestones since the last post, that doesn't mean there hasn't been any excitement around here. School has been a steady stream of good reports and projects, with Elijah excelling on his spelling tests, getting bonus words such as "valedictorian," "subterranean" and "corduroy" (yes, I needed spell check for them!) correct. He has gone through his lunch account faster than we can replenish it by going through the entree line twice a day to get an extra Uncrustable (a processed peanut butter and jelly sandwich), which we have plenty of in the house (for which we paid 1/4 of what it costs him at school).

Most important, he seems to have been accepted as

part of his class, with his classmates (especially the girls) attempting to interact as much as possible.

As previous posts have mentioned, there is one classmate, Sofia, that Elijah is really fond of, and she is really sweet to him. His affection can be seen clearly in their class picture below, as everyone, with one exception, is looking at the camera. Yes, he told us, he was looking at Sofia.

Elijah did something else pretty cute involving Sofia. After he begged us to invite her over one Friday immediately after school, we reminded him that "Miss Nikki," the KU graduate student working with him, was coming over. Though her visits are always something Elijah looks forward to, with the constant "Is Miss Nikki coming by today?", nothing was as important as Sofia coming by to play. So Sarah e-mailed Sofia's mom to ask if they could come over one day -- and the big date turned out to be a day that Nikki was there. The thought of having Miss Nikki there when Sofia arrived was too much for the little guy. He tore through his lesson and, once done, told Nikki as he was literally pushing her out the door: "You can't be here when Sofia comes over." Heaven forbid his "women" were to cross paths! Nikki did meet Sofia, but once Nikki was gone, the kids had a great time together playing both outside on our swing set and inside in the basement (especially in the bouncy house). It was a great day for Elijah, and hopefully there will be more visits in the future.

As for Miss Nikki, it appears as if her work with Elijah is near an end. Elijah is doing an excellent job with her math program and has reached the levels needed for her to use the data. She has been great with Elijah, and we are going to miss her visits, though she has promised to keep in touch and be part of our Autism Speaks walk team, Elijah's Wanderers. As I have told her, and anyone else who has worked with and moved Elijah forward, I will always consider them part of our extended family.

Another recent event was the first-grade musical, presented for the entire school (during the day) and parents (at night). Although he constantly wandered off the stage (to get drinks of water, he later said), Elijah delivered his line and sang along with the rest of the first-graders. Of course, there was a little girl assigned to make sure he stepped off the risers at the right time (which she did). His enthusiasm for the show has continued -- he now recites and sings all the songs when the mood hits him.

It will be a very busy next few weeks for the little guy. Graduation from first grade, a trip out to see relatives in California, the beginning of his annual summer camp with Miss Tiffany (along with the continuation of his piano lessons with her), and a trip to a water park and cavern ride for his birthday. As to what he wants for his birthday, Elijah has made it known that at least TEN characters from Toy Story 3 (although he will settle for just a Buzz Lightyear, which has already been purchased) and markers are high on his list. Of course, with Elijah being Elijah, he made one other request for a gift, something he wants for his room. He drew a picture of it and gave it to us...a snack machine:

And, as the close-up shows, he had definite ideas about what should be in it... Oreos, M&Ms, and Crunch and Hershey bars are among the mix.

So if the next time you see us, we all seem to be a little heavier, I guess it will mean that Dad has given in again.

MARCHing Forward

2011-04-03T07:06:00.014-05:00

While the last blog posting was about Elijah getting ready to tackle the piano, I can tell you that after just a few lessons, he has shown not only an interest, but some ability in tickling the ivories. Of course, like any child, he may soon get bored and decide that watching "Toy Story 3" for the hundredth time is more enjoyable, but with the efforts of Miss Tiffany (pictured with Elijah) and Sarah to keep him on track, I don't think that's likely.

Speaking of "Toy Story 3," we all enjoyed the Disney on Ice production of TS3 in which the first act retold the story of the first and second movies, with the last act dedicated to what happens to the toys once Andy grows up. Needless to say, the little guy enjoyed the show (though not as much as Mom did) and I'm sure all the fathers in the audience became much more engaged when "Barbie" (in tight blue spandex) became a lead character in the third act. We got away cheap at the souvenir stand (only a $15 program, which came with the requisite Mickey Mouse ears). Requests for every toy in the movie came only after we got home.

Though piano and Disney on Ice have been the recent highlights, a carnival for St. Pat's Day (with numerous SOLO trips on a scrambler ride, although Mom did join him initially) also contributed to our own March Madness. If we can get through April and May with just the normal craziness, a scheduled birthday trip that includes both a cavern ride and a water park visit should make the month of June a fun one for the little guy.

Doing the Elijah Cha Cha

2011-02-20T18:15:00.017-06:00

Living with Elijah is like a day at the dance studio. Two steps forward, one step back. As long as the movement is always forward we can do the shuffle, but while it can be exhausting, it is never dull.

On Super Bowl Sunday, a friend of Sarah's came by with her two children. Elijah eagerly awaited their arrival (this was the same family who visited us for fun in the snow -- see the previous blog), and he happily played with the boy, Quinn, for quite a while (step forward). When Quinn and Elijah started to play a video game that Elijah hadn't played before, Elijah got frustrated and announced that he was going to his room (a step forward and also a step back -- the retreat to the room was bad, but the fact that he felt embarrassed by his inability to play the game was an emotion we had never seen and was actually a good sign). A few moments later, Elijah emerged from his room and continued to play until our visitors went home.

That same week, a parent-teacher conference yielded both good and not so good results. Again, all the people working with Elijah at school told us how much they loved him and what a incredible little guy he is. (I'm not naive enough to think that ALL the parents aren't told that, but with his joyful personality and his love for school, I think there is a lot of truth in their feelings.) In terms of his work and where he stands with his peers, Elijah appears to be all over the place. Sometimes his assignments and journal entries are correct and proper, while other times what was asked of him and how he responded have absolutely nothing in common. Yet, unlike many autistic children, he constantly seeks to interact with peers and teachers (on his terms, of course), so it appears that his socialization skills are at least moving in the right direction. Also, his memory for detail is another source of wonder, as his teacher and specialists marveled at his abilities to remember every announcement, incident and object placement in the classroom. The cha cha continues!

Last week at a classmate's birthday party, Elijah happily greeted and interacted with classmates and climbed the rock wall at the facility. Since we have never seen him even attempt do this at our fitness center, both Sarah and I were very happy and looking forward to the fact that he would have the opportunity to show off that skill the next night as we would be taking advantage of our club's "Parents Night Out" to see a movie while leaving Elijah at the club to play, swim and climb. After dinner and the show, we returned to pick up Elijah and were told that the swim time had ended a little sooner than expected because someone had decided to use the pool as a toilet -- and our little guy had happily volunteered that he had been the culprit.

Needless to say, the ride back home was a bit tense until Elijah realized what he had done was wrong and wasn't something to laugh about. But then, the next day, after we had gotten a written apology from Elijah for the club, the story changed. Elijah told us it wasn't him, that he had just said that because .... well, just because.

You may think he was just trying to shift the blame, but a similar incident occurred a few weeks back. An employee from the club's child center came to get me from the workout floor because Elijah had insisted that he had soiled his pants. When I got there and checked him out, it was obvious that wasn't the case. When I asked him why he had said that .... well, I still haven't gotten an answer. My guess is that he wanted more attention from the girls working there and knew this was a way to get it.

It's been years since he's had a verified "accident," and he always announces to everyone and anyone that he needs to use the restroom, so I really don't think he was the culprit. A step back, at least in terms of his ability to communicate accurately.

A more positive moment occurred just last week. Elijah has been working with a graduate student at the University of Kansas as she, for her advanced degree, is teaching him math as part of a research project into how best to teach children with autism. (In a prelude to this, the teacher, "Miss Nikki," taught Elijah about vegetables, so he now can point out artichokes at the grocery store with great excitement.) The sessions were held here at the house, and Elijah always looked forward to Nikki's visits, asking, "Is Miss Nikki coming today?" and always smiling broadly when the answer was yes.

Then we found out that the music therapist who runs Elijah's summer camp had an opening for piano lessons -- on one of the days each week that Miss Nikki visited. We've been trying to get him into piano lessons for a long time, and we couldn't pass up the opportunity. This led to a farewell to Miss Nikki, and it was sad to say goodbye. Piano lessons, step forward .... losing Miss Nikki, a step back.

Then the challenge became finding a piano or keyboard that the little guy could practice on.

The music therapist advised against using the small electric keyboard we have, because it doesn't have "weighted" keys -- no matter how hard or soft you hit the keys, the tone is the same. For someone on the spectrum (and maybe for everyone) the need to hear the difference in sound by the force of the key being struck is very important.

Incredibly, Sarah found someone willing to give us a piano, which was moved to our house today. And we received an e-mail from Miss Nikki telling us that after speaking with her advisers, she had received approval to continue working with Elijah on a different schedule, so piano lessons could be accommodated. At the first lesson after Miss Nikki returned, Elijah got, for the first time, 100 percent correct on the teaching portion of the session. BIG steps forward!

Another first came last week, as Elijah put on roller skates for the first time at an after-school skating party -- an event that in the past might have caused some anxiety for the little guy. But as I have mentioned earlier, his class seems like a pretty special group and once he saw his classmate Sofia, all was well. (Although Sarah realized that ice-skating expertise does not transfer into roller-skating skills, even if you were a great roller-skater in your youth. Her time on the rink was very limited.)

The little guy is very excited about his upcoming lessons -- he wouldn't even wait for Sarah to clean off the piano before he sat down and tried it out. And who knows? Eventually, maybe he'll be able to produce his own soundtrack for his ever-changing dance steps. Hopefully, they'll all be forward!

Time Passes Slowly

2011-01-24T17:18:00.015-06:00

We're not even a month into the new year, and I really think it's going to be a hell of a year! For those of you who follow this blog (and yes, Sarah, there are more than family among our readers), I have never mentioned either my occupation or my employer, and that's not going to change today; but I will say that I moved on to a new employer (my choosing) and I couldn't be happier. It was as if the clouds parted and allowed the sun to shine through. Combine this news with Sarah's success and happiness with her self-employment venture, and I relish the coming year.

But the real reason I believe 2011 will be special is, of course, Elijah. Although sometimes it feels as if his autism is dominating his brain (his insistence on telling everyone he meets to"smile with your teeth" is wearing thin), he continues to show growth in all aspects of his socialization process. Every morning, as he bounds out of the car at school, he will greet any adult or classmate he sees. At a Cub Scouts meeting, he interacted with everyone he knew and enjoyed himself so much that we are participating in the "Pinewood Derby" for toy wooden cars this weekend. On the mornings I can't take him to school, he happily catches a ride with our neighbor Doug and his daughter, apparently yakking it up the entire way there.

But to me, the real show of progress was his request (actually, insistence) that two children he played with on New Year's Eve come over to his house for a playdate. A former co-worker of Sarah's who has a boy about a year younger than Elijah (and a little girl less than 2 years old) invited us over on New Year's Eve. Elijah, who had gotten to know Quinn during the past few summers at the local park pool, was very excited about going over to the house and counted off the days until the big event. When we got there, an added surprise, a little girl cousin named Zoey, was also there. After a little bit of getting-to-know-each-other time, the three played all evening long, which allowed the adults (there were eight of us) to relax and enjoy each other's company.

The next day I asked Elijah if he enjoyed playing with Quinn and Zoey, and not only did he reply in the affirmative, he asked if they could come over to our house to play. I could count one hand, with fingers to spare, how many times that has ever happened. Needless to say, I was overjoyed and insisted that Sarah start the process to get this done. When arrangements were finalized we put the date on Elijah's calendar and, as the date neared, he eagerly counted down the days.

Unfortunately, it appeared as if Mother Nature would put a crimp in our plans. Seven inches of snow had fallen a few days earlier, and now the weather forecast was calling for another four to five inches the day our guests were due to come over. Thankfully, the local weather people were as accurate as they always are, and all we got was a little dusting in the morning. Elijah was so excited he climbed up on a chair to move the clock hands, as if that would really make them come any earlier. (He mistakenly turned the hands back rather than forward, so it appeared to Sarah that the batteries had gone dead, and she insisted I change them.) When the young guests finally arrived, it was almost three straight hours of jumping, laughing, playing musical instruments, sledding (our backyard has a hill) and finally, cookie eating. It was a complete success!

These pictures may seem to be nothing but some kids playing together in the snow, but that's what makes them so wonderful to us. That Elijah not only asked for Quinn and Zoey to come over, but actually played and laughed with them, is an incredible milestone, one which I'm sure we'll be repeating soon. Yes, it's going to be a great year!

No U-Turn on this gift idea

2011-01-01T08:25:00.010-06:00

When you ask Elijah a question, there is a chance you might get a response, and on occasion, that response may actually relate to the question being posed. But when asked what he wanted Santa to bring him, Elijah told us without hesitation, "an International Sign Set and all the Sharpies." No surprise there. Any type of marker is always on his wish list, and anyone who has read this blog or gotten to know Elijah knows that outside of his obsession with basketball courts (which is off the charts), traffic signs are always on his radar. So, when Christmas morning arrived, under the tree with some games and books were his requested gifts from Santa. (A quick shout-out to all of the relatives who again contributed to Elijah's camp fund as his gift. Your generosity is very much appreciated, and no gift can mean more to him in the long run.)

As Elijah surveyed his haul, his eyes immediately locked in on a box marked "To Elijah from Santa."

"I want to open my International Sign Set now!" He knew the size and shape of the box -- Santa needn't have even bothered to wrap it. So much for that Kodak moment of surprise upon opening the gift.

But his smile upon seeing the signs and putting them together was worth a picture. The Sharpies also drew a big smile, but the fact that he is not allowed to draw basketball goals with them has tempered some of his enthusiasm. And since he can't go an entire day without drawing basketball goals, we hear, "Can I draw basketball goals not using the Sharpies?" on a regular basis. Ahh ... progress.

Sarah's parents came for the holidays, and it only took one morning of a 4 a.m. wake-up call of "Daddy, can I go downstairs?!!!" to drive Sarah's mom to Aunt Julie and Uncle George's house. So when Christmas Day came around, all four of them came by and brought Julie and George's gift -- a pad and software that allows Elijah to use a pen instead of a mouse while using the computer. Of course, while we all floundered (well, not all of us - George is an IT specialist), Elijah soon mastered his new device.

From reciting the Hanukkah prayer to insisting on decorating the tree, Elijah was completely engaged this holiday season. His insistence on driving through neighborhoods to see light displays (and not basketball goals) was also a nice change of pace. His joy at calling out the numbers while playing bingo and interacting with kids at holiday parties and social situations brings to mind what has became his "catchphrase" these past few months. Whenever he sees someone, Elijah insists they "smile with their teeth." When I look back on this past year with him, and how far he has come, it's a pretty easy request to fulfill.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2010-12-04T07:06:00.011-06:00

It's been nothing but smiles and happiness around here for the holiday season, and the little guy is the main reason. Elijah continues to show great progress, and both Sarah and I couldn't be happier. From dropping him off in the morning at school (where unprompted hellos to teachers, fist-bumps with the principal and smiles for classmates are the norm) to picking him up in the afternoon (when, according to Sarah, hugs from classmates signal the end of the school day), it seems as if first grade is first-rate! Without any help, Elijah gets his lunch each day in the cafeteria and eats with his classmates. (Although we have discovered that his favorite item, the "Deli Sub," is nothing more than a piece of turkey and a piece of American cheese between two slices of white bread. Drool, drool!). For most parents, these moments may not signify all that much, but for us, it shows incredible growth.

School is just one example of how things are different this year. In previous years the holiday season meant as much to Elijah as the start of hunting season .... nothing. Last year he seemed to get the holiday idea somewhat as he asked for gifts from Santa and lit Hanukkah candles (of course the fact that the latter included chocolate coins made it all the better). This year, however, he is in full holiday mode. On Thanksgiving, he devoured turkey at two different settings (at home and at Uncle George and Aunt Julie's) and shared with Grandma Smith turkeys he had drawn. Then, after insisting that the packed-away Christmas tree be brought up from the basement, he proceeded to decorate it like a true professional, or at least like a professional 7 year-old. (Most of the ornaments were on one side, all of them about his eye level, with no rhyme or reason to his pattern.)

Then the menorah was filled with candles, and when I tried to explain that only one candle is used on the first night, Elijah insisted that all eight be lit. It appears as if a new Hebrew tradition is being started in our home -- start with eight candles on the first night of Hanukkah and work your way down to one. But hey, a miracle is a miracle any way you look at at.

Elijah's artistry has taken a new path as he now uses the Paint program on the computer to create pictures that sometimes convey a story arc, but more often are images like the house pictured here.

Add to all of this activity Elijah's happiness to go weekly therapy sessions with "Miss Nicki" and his joy when we go to the gym (he gets hugs and kisses from the girls who work there), and what you have is one very happy and rambunctious little boy, full of life and expressing it both in words and actions. A very wonderful time indeed!

A Lost Tooth, but Not a Lost Cause

2010-11-14T18:01:00.010-06:00

It has been a very exciting couple of weeks here as Elijah has FINALLY lost his first tooth, waiting until he was 7 years old. After a few days of pushing against it with his tongue, the big moment occurred while he was at school, which meant he not only lost a tooth, but also gained a certificate, signed by the nurse, announcing the occasion. That night the Tooth Fairy, taking into account the rate of inflation and the tough economic times we are in, replaced the tiny tooth with two dollars and a note telling him to spend the money on anything he wanted. Elijah, being Elijah, used the money to buy a clipboard on which he has been practicing his spelling test words for school. Practical and educational...that's Sarah's genes, not mine!

Losing a tooth was not the only notable event that occurred at school recently. Sarah, concerned that some children were making fun of Elijah, wrote his teacher about it. Since bullying is such a hot-button issue at schools these days, his teacher suggested that a way be found to educate his classmates about Elijah's autism. She asked if there might be a book she could share with the class and help them understand why Elijah acts the way he does sometimes.

Dad took to the Internet and found a couple of titles that could be used. One of them, Looking After Louis, was a perfect fit. The main character, Louis, who is autistic but still mainstreamed at a public school, had many characteristics that were similar to Elijah. Louis has an adult sit with him in class, mimics the teacher and has wonderful artistic skills. He wants to play with the other boys but doesn't seem to comprehend how to do it. The narrator of the story is a little girl who is a classmate of Louis and wants to be his friend but can't understand why the rules don't seem to apply to him. At the end of the story, the children begin to see, through his art, how special Louis is and play with him like they would any other classmate. As a father of a little boy with autism who hopes each day that his son will be accepted by his peers, I admit the ending brought tears to my eyes.

But what would Elijah's classmates think? His teacher, with the assistance of the school counselor, read the book to his class while Elijah was out of the room. (His absence was not an unusual occurrence, as Elijah, who reads at a very advanced level but has trouble comprehending what he reads, goes to a reading skills room at least twice a week.)

According to the teacher and counselor, the class really seemed to understand and wanted to help. (I must give praise to Elijah's teacher whose incredible enthusiasm is only equaled by her and the counselor's empathy for Elijah's situation. They are both doing a wonderful job.) A sign-up sheet was posted for members of the class to be Elijah's "recess buddy" (it would involve playing with Elijah for the first 10 minutes of recess) and it looked like every one of them signed up to do it. Not only that, at the school book fair, at least four of his classmates made a beeline for him to say hello, with one little girl insisting that her mother, who was volunteering at the checkout area, stop what she was doing so Elijah could be introduced to her. And each greeting to Elijah was returned by our little guy with his eyes looking at the person, and if it was a female classmate, a smile from ear to ear.

Sarah and I have often said that we are lucky to have Elijah in the school system he is in, and his progress has borne that out. When we drop him off in the morning and he gets out of the car with a huge smile while running for the front door, sometimes laughing with another student, he looks like any other typical first grader. What more can a parent ask for?

Hold that Tiger

2010-11-01T05:40:00.013-05:00

Just like the proverbial Jewish wedding, Halloween seemed to go on forever this year. Because parent-teacher conferences were scheduled for the end of the week, Elijah's school costume party and parade was held on the Wednesday before Halloween. Usually Elijah's costume is something that is bought at the last minute because of a complete lack of interest on his part. Since Star Wars and ninjas are as foreign to him as they would be to a child in a Third World country (no, that's wrong -- a child there would be more likely than Elijah to know who Luke Skywalker is), the costume-selection process this year seemed destined to be futile.

But that wasn't the case. As we went costume-hunting, Elijah shocked me by saying, "Daddy, I want to be a tiger." This was a first. Not once had he ever WANTED to be something for Halloween. My excitement was tempered, however, when I discovered that the only tiger costumes available at any local store were for either infants or women with very small waists and very long legs. Thank God for the Internet! A Google search found a costume store in New Jersey with the perfect tiger outfit, and a delighted Elijah soon had his costume, which he loved wearing and which was big hit with other felines in his class.

That was just the first time that week he wore the stripes. On Saturday, the day before Halloween, our health club held a "Spooktacular" that had all sorts of activities (including face painting, a bounce house, pumpkin decorating and pony rides) for kids. The little guy had a great time.

At last the big night arrived, and after some hugs from a very cute "Cat in the Hat," Elijah was ready to collect candy. Trick-or-treating with Elijah used to be a very quick experience. The first couple of years, it was two or three doors and then back to the house. Then last year, he realized that the more houses he went to, the more candy he would get, so we would go door to door until he would get a large candy bar (usually a Crunch Bar), and then he'd want to go home immediately to devour his gains. This year was different. He was on a mission to get candy, and lots of it.

As I tried to explain to Elijah, first you ring the doorbell, then you say "trick or treat," then allow the person to put some candy in your pumpkin (bag). You don't grab. And you thank them. Well, even the best-laid plans ....

At the first house we went to, our neighbor told Elijah to "grab as much as you want." Though he didn't do it then, the thought stuck with him, and it was a constant battle at every succeeding house as his hand reached out for the bowl brought to the door and he tried to grab a handful of candy. That was the only real problem of the night (if one doesn't include the fact that Elijah would ring the doorbell and say "trick or treat" at almost the same time, which led to many awkward moments of silence when someone finally opened the door. But at least he always said "thank you.")

We went up and down the blocks in our neighborhood and collected lots of candy before the little guy announced he wanted to go home and eat some of his stash. The first thing he devoured when we got home was a large Hershey Bar given to us by one of our neighbors, who also happens to be our dentist. Do you think there is a connection there? As Elijah's chocolate- smeared face shows, it was a good night to be a tiger.

It Was a Beautiful Day

2010-10-17T06:49:00.017-05:00

The words of Bono and U2 couldn't be more apt for the Walk Now for Autism Speaks event this past weekend. From the weather, which was double the temperature from last year, to the turnout of walkers and volunteers, it was a great day at the Kansas Speedway.

Of course even great days with Elijah can have some stress to them. I had left early to help the committee get things ready at the site, so I was unaware that Elijah had informed Sarah he wanted to finish the Microsoft Word project (probably recreating some signage he had seen) he was working on and didn't want to go anywhere for the foreseeable future, even if it was an outdoor party. However, after some arm twisting (verbal, not literal), the little guy and Sarah were on their way.

While all of this drama was occurring, I was helping the volunteers get situated and seeing if the vendors needed any help getting set up. It was a nice feeling to see a constant flow of people coming to the main area, all of whom volunteered to help Walk Now for Autism Speaks. Yes, I knew that some did it for community service credit at school, while others had been asked (coerced) by their company to be there, but whatever the reason, they all seemed happy and eager to be part of the Walk experience.

When Sarah and Elijah arrived I could tell it had been a stressful ride. I told Sarah to go relax and have something to eat, while I took the little guy around. Our first stop was to see Miss Tiffany, who ran the summer camp Elijah enjoyed so much and was a vendor at this event. The second he saw her, a huge smile ran across his face (and hers too!) followed by hugs and even more smiles.

Right after that we ran into two of the employees of the children's center at our health club, Ali and Christian, who had signed up to walk with us. That brought another big smile and a question for them from Elijah: "Where's Kelsey?" Kelsey was the third member of health club contingent, the first one to sign up to join us, and to be honest, Elijah's favorite. (Although for the last few weeks, Elijah has been telling Katie, who works the front desk, that she looks beautiful and he would like a hug from her. When I reminded him that he had told me that Kelsey was his favorite he replied, "I like Kelsey, but I love Katie P.")

After being delayed by traffic, Kelsey arrived, and that brought the biggest smile of the day from Elijah. After the girls made Elijah a bracelet with his name on it (more on that later), we set off with about 8,000 others to Walk for Autism Speaks. All during the walk Ali, Christian and especially Kelsey interacted with Elijah so much that not once did he ever whine or complain about walking. What makes events like these so special for me is to see such a large crowd and know that no one is judging your child as if they were different, but instead understanding your family and what they go through on a daily basis -- that there is a community out there for support. Yet, as wonderful as that feeling was, for me that wasn't the most memorable part of the walk. What I found extraordinary was the number of spectrum kids and their parents who knew and greeted Ali, Christian and Kelsey and the genuine affection that both sides shared for each other. What a wonderful sight to see! It made me very proud to have those three on Elijah's team.

Once the walk was over, Sarah took the little guy home and I helped volunteers and committee members clean up the grounds. Little did I realize a crisis of major proportions was brewing at home. The bracelet that Ali and Kelsey had made for Elijah, the one he had proudly worn all throughout the walk was, as he discovered later, missing two foam letters from his name. The magnitude of this trauma was expressed to Sarah through teary eyes and breathless crying that was more intense than when he got his first shot.

Upon my arrival home, I was instructed by Elijah that I needed to immediately go back to the walk area, find the missing yellow "L" and "H" and bring them home. Obviously that wasn't going to happen, so a "plan B" was devised. A trip to Hobby Lobby to buy a bag of foam letters (along with a chocolate chip cookie) turned out to be our solution. The bracelet was made whole again and the memory of the happiness and joy of the afternoon festivities was quickly restored.

Any day that can have as many hugs and smiles as this one did is truly a beautiful day and one I hope we can wander through again.

Monkey See....

2010-09-26T07:16:00.009-05:00

As you can see by the picture to the left, taken on the first day of class, Elijah is happy to be back in school. Outside of a couple of problem days early (without going into detail, let's just say I curse the person who thought automatic flush toilets were a great idea for children under 10!), he seems to be moving forward. At the two birthday parties that have taken place so far this school year, he has recognized and greeted classmates, laughed and played WITH them and has been asked by a female first-grader to "tell me I'm gorgeous." Pretty typical behavior, and that's all one can ask for.

Those of you who bought wrapping paper, cookie dough or something else that you probably didn't need are aware that the major fundraising event of the school year is now over. And yes, Elijah did qualify (thanks again to all those who sacrificed) for his backpack monkey, but the story doesn't end there. From the very first day he saw it, Elijah wanted the "big monkey with the blue eyes." I knew that the backpack version of Max was a gimme, with grandparents and aunts willing to contribute, but the "big" monkey was given only to those who sold at least one hundred items. Needless to say, that wasn't going to happen, yet every day, Elijah would ask if I had brought the big monkey home.

So, being the manipulated father that I am, with Elijah's happiness my only concern, I contacted the company that was running the sale and got the local representative's name and number. I then called her, explained the situation and asked if I could buy a large monkey for my son. Yes, she did have a monkey available, and she would be happy to sell it at cost. For a mere $8.50, Elijah could reach the nirvana that only a large, blue-eyed monkey could bring. When I told Sarah what I was doing, I was somewhat surprised she didn't put up more of a fight, but instead agreed that this was a small price to pay for childhood bliss. A check was sent and arrangements were made to have Max delivered to Elijah's school.

It turned out to be a HUGE success. When Sarah went to pick up Elijah at school and presented him with the monkey, his smile was truly from ear to ear. When he walked out of the school with the "big" monkey, other kids were in awe: "Elijah got the big monkey! Elijah got the big monkey!" Of course, the little guy was oblivious to this adulation, as he doesn't have the gloat component in his DNA, but Mom made sure that the truth was known as she told the other mothers that Daddy had bought Max. But the little guy didn't care. He had his big monkey with blue eyes, which he now has named George, and it has been his constant companion since he brought it home. I guess money can buy happiness, if it comes dressed up as a four-foot monkey with blue eyes.

Elijah's Take on the Prop 8 Battle in California

2010-09-03T06:59:00.004-05:00

Actually, as you can see below, Elijah re-created an illustration from a new book he received entitled "Library Mouse."

I guess I'm just being, as Sarah puts it, squirrely.

We not only survived, but actually thrived and had a great time

2010-08-22T11:13:00.014-05:00

Though it may not be what it advertises itself as (the Magic Kingdom), for three days in August, Disneyland was a joy for Elijah and fun for Mom and Dad as well. From our first ride (Nemo's Submarine) to our last (zooming above California as though we were hang-gliding) a smile or sense of awe were Elijah's constant expressions.

When we arrived at Disneyland we immediately made our way to "City Hall" and received a special pass that allowed us, because of Elijah's autism, to avoid most long lines at rides. This brought down the anxiety level tremendously (except when I was asked to go on roller coaster-type rides) and allowed us, over our time there, to hit every ride we wanted to, some of them multiple times.

My anxiety over Sarah taking Elijah on Space Mountain (an intense indoor roller coaster) was completely unfounded, as the little guy bounced down the runway at the end of the ride with a smile from ear to ear. (I'm guessing now that all the children I saw crying by the exit were emerging from the Captain EO 3-D movie theater nearby -- Michael Jackson can be pretty scary, especially in 3-D). Insisting he wanted to go back on the "indoor spaceship," Elijah rode Space Mountain three times during our visit, which made it, along with Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, his favorite.

Notice I said Sarah taking Elijah on Space Mountain. She also took him on the Bobsleds, the Rolling Thunder Roller Coaster, the Indiana Jones ride and the Soarin' Over California (simulated hang-glider) rides as well. Daddy does not do heights and fast rides. (I did go with them on the simulated hang glider ride the second time they went on it, with Elijah holding my hand and telling me not to be scared.) But I was along for all the tame rides (and over the three days that meant just about every attraction) and had a great time.

The only sour note (at least for Sarah) occurred when we went on the "Cars" ride. (Oldtimers will remember it as the Autobahn ride.) The "little guy" loved getting behind the wheel, with Daddy controlling the gas, and driving his sports car. Unfortunately, near the end, the car in front of us died and left us stranded in a traffic jam in the hot sun. As Sarah so aptly pointed out, why would anyone fight gridlock to drive to Disneyland, then get on a ride to sit in stalled traffic? I couldn't argue with her logic, but the smile on Elijah's face made the wait tolerable.

Besides the rides (and the daily chocolate-chip cookie), a major highlight for Elijah was meeting Pooh and his friends. Two trips on the Pooh ride wasn't nearly as exciting as getting a hug from Tigger, Eeyore and Pooh himself.

The California Adventure Park was fun as well, especially for Sarah, as she got another roller coaster ride under her belt. (The large loops even scared off Elijah, who told us he didn't want to go on that with Mommy.) The 3-D ride of Toy Story and the aforementioned hang glider movie/ride were the highlights, but for Elijah, perhaps the biggest sensory delight was the large letters spelling "California" at the park entrance. In fact, days later, he wrote the word California (spelled correctly, which I couldn't do until I was much older, and I lived there!) using the same color scheme that was at the park entrance.

Add to the mix a fun (but cold) day at the beach, the incredible hospitality shown to us by Aunt Kathy and Uncle Marv, the generosity and love given to us by Grandpa and Grandma Nessel, and one would have to say that, for about a week, we were at the "happiest place on Earth."

Nemo would have been proud

2010-08-07T20:07:00.007-05:00

As devoted followers of this blog (the handful of family and friends out there) know, Elijah has been hitting certain milestones these past 12 months, and we couldn't be happier about it. Last month we were informed by his camp (a big shout-out to "Miss Tiffany" and Successful Sounds for a great summer of fun and growth) that the little guy jumped off the diving board at the pool during the swim lesson portion of camp.

Today I saw for myself that yes, that was true, as he took a flying leap off the city pool's board, came up with a smile on his face and swam to the side of the pool. As an added bonus, one of the lifeguards at the pool who was involved in trying to teach Elijah how to swim a couple of summers back, was there watching. His smile (though not as large as Daddy's) spoke volumes, and while he gave Elijah a high-five as he climbed out, his statement to me -- "that was awesome" -- summed up my feelings as well.

As I mentioned earlier, camp was great this year. The scrapbooks we received for each camp session show not only a smiling Elijah (especially when music is involved) but also an Elijah who interacts with the other kids and actually enjoys having his picture taken (in contrast to the photos that we get from school, which look more like hostage videos).

So, as we get closer to our initial family visit to the "happiest place on Earth," I already think this summer has been special.

UPDATE

Since this entry was written (but never posted) we have been to Disneyland and had a great time. Furthermore, Elijah attempted to give both Mom and Dad heart attacks by doing flips off the side of my sister's pool. What happened to the little guy who wouldn't even jump into the shallow end of the pool? Blog entry about Disneyland (with photos) will be up shortly.

FURTHER UPDATE

Without any hesitation Elijah jumped numerous times off the high diving board at the pool yesterday including one attempt at doing a flip which caused shortness of breath in both Mom and Dad.

Summer's Here and the Time is Right

2010-07-24T06:23:00.004-05:00

Summer has flown by so quickly this year that I can't believe Elijah only has one more week of camp left. It has been a good summer (OK, the weather has ranged from monsoons to steam-room temperatures, so it hasn't been perfect), with the little guy really enjoying himself, be it at camp, the pool or going to a movie. Sarah has done a great job shuffling him from camp to therapy during the week, all the while moving her new business forward. I have seen some real growth in Elijah, both in his verbal abilities and in his behavior.

We have been told that he has tried, and on occasion completely eaten, his prepared lunches at camp, which have included all sorts of fruits and vegetables. He has engaged people in conversations and now talks on the phone with both Sarah and me. He loves the water and constantly wants to swim to the "red line" that is the depth marker for 5' 2." (I have to explain to him that he can do that only when Mommy is with him, not Daddy, for obvious reasons.) He now enjoys 3-D movies, keeping his glasses on the entire time while commenting "this is cool." Popcorn, both at the movies and at home, has been added to his food list, along with watermelon.

Some of his quirkiness still remains. He still is fascinated when he hears or sees children crying, trying to get as close as he can to them with a huge grin on his face. His rote speech of songs, movies or TV shows continues, but he at least now tells us where the words and phrases originated. And, to Sarah's chagrin, he loves to emit all sorts of bodily noises -- but isn't that what little boys do best?

With Sarah trying to get work done, weekends have been Daddy time, but I'm not complaining. It has been, for the most part, a joyful ride with enough ups and downs to equal an (and I'm dating myself here) E-ticket at Disneyland. Which reminds me that it's just two weeks until we take Elijah to the Magic Kingdom for the first time. Stay tuned!

7th Inning Stretch

2010-06-22T21:34:00.010-05:00

I cannot believe that Elijah turned SEVEN years old this past week. It has been an incredible journey, and we barely have left the dock. The party went off without a hitch, and everyone seemed to have a good time. The day of the party, there were three occasions when a meltdown by the little guy could have occurred, but I am happy to report he never even frowned.

Early in the day I picked up the cake and it had chocolate frosting, not vanilla, as the birthday boy had requested. When I showed him the cake, the frosting was not nearly as important as the musical notes he had requested on the icing. Frosting color debacle avoided!

Crisis number two involved the guests just showing up. In past years, the arrival of lots of kids asking for him would have driven Elijah inside the house as he insisted, "I want them to go." This year he watched, approached and actually had eye contact with some of the partygoers (admittedly most of those he interacted with were adults, but it was a start.)

The final and I thought the most likely chance for a cataclysmic disaster was when, after some boys played with his mini basketball goal for awhile, Elijah informed me the backboard was broken. As I viewed the cracks on the backboard I knew the crying was about to begin. Instead the little guy asked if I could tape over the cracks, which I told him was no problem, and he was happy. Now THAT was a breakthrough!

Is Hanna-Barbera hiring?

2010-06-04T20:37:00.010-05:00

Yes, it's been awhile since my last post, but with Sarah on the computer all the time trying to make a living, my screen time is way down. So far it's been a good summer (spring never appeared here -- we went from snow and 20 degrees to high humidity and temperatures in the 90s in about a 24-hour period).

The Memorial Day weekend was filled with fun family outings that, because of her new schedule, Sarah was able to partake in. The outdoor pool at our health club opened on Saturday with Elijah and I showing up with suits on and raring to go. Within an hour, not one, not two, but three very attractive bikini-clad young ladies walked up to us to say hello and give a hug to.....Elijah. Since I was old enough to be their father, I just smiled at them and insisted that Elijah respond in kind. For the record, two were from the child center and the third was a lifeguard at the indoor pool during the winter. With prompting, all three got a "hello" back from Elijah.

That was just the start of the "Isn't that Elijah" recognition game that played out over the entire weekend. At a hot air balloon rally that night someone else recognized Elijah from a gym class he took years ago. The next day at the park pool, he was greeted by a little girl who knew him from YMCA after-school care this past year. (A boy at the pool later that weekend also recognized him from "Y-Care.") On Sunday night, at an outdoor concert attended by thousands, he was spotted by a young lady who used to babysit him years ago. And what was Elijah's response to all of this attention? Unless prompted, he pretty much ignored everyone, but it made me feel good to see how many people knew, and more importantly, seemed to care, who he was.

One activity on our radar this summer is to get the little guy to ride his bike more. We've already made a long excursion on the trails near our home, and he continues to enjoy riding at the area we call "Goose Poop Park." (A lake in the middle of this park is home to a large contingent of Canada geese and, without using too much of your imagination, I think you can see why we call it what we do.)

At the park is one spot where a tree's root has caused the pathway to rise quite a bit. Elijah, wanting to warn people about this impending danger, created a sign that he attached to a Starbucks stirring stick and planted in the ground:

Whenever the little guy does something like this, I am both delighted and amazed by his attention to detail and how his mind works. Yet, just when I think he cannot top a previous effort, Elijah creates something, besides basketball goals and signs, that just floors me. Yesterday he did it again.

Months ago, when he was in a Winnie the Pooh phase, he asked (actually demanded with a plead of "I need...") for a variety of Pooh coloring pages to be downloaded from the computer. Since I haven't seen any of them for awhile, I thought he was done with them until I was the presented the following:

This is the Pooh page I downloaded...

This is how he colored it.....

As he told Sarah and me, Pooh was singing a song (note the microphone and the notes) because he was happy. Forgetting for a moment the story he created for the picture, what absolutely blew me away was the detail he filled in as background. From the pathway from "(R)abbits (H)ouse" to the "Hunny" pot on the ground, it was as if he created his own cartoon cell, a lost art these days with almost all cartoons being computer animation. But I'm not surprised -- it's in his genes. With his mom having worked for years in print journalism (a dying industry) why wouldn't he show a talent and affinity for creating something that, like the newspaper, has just about disappeared in today's society?

BIG NEWS!!!!!!!!!

2010-04-24T15:13:00.004-05:00

For those of you who don't know this yet, Sarah has given notice to her employer and will be doing the freelance gig full time now. I am very excited about her venture and know she will be extremely successful (with her talent how could she not be!) Unfortunately someone in our family is concerned about the future and is making preparations if things don't go well.

Have faith little guy.....mom's going do just fine.

Mother Knows Best

2010-04-23T20:45:00.005-05:00

It's been like a MASH unit here the last couple of weeks. Sarah had surgery to repair a torn meniscus and was hobbling around on crutches for a couple of days followed by limping with a cane. Amazingly she didn't miss a day of work, even taking an electric cooler, filled with ice and with hoses that wrapped around her knee, with her to her office. As she tried to put more weight on her leg, she would leave a crutch or her cane leaning against the wall making our house seem like the final scene in either A Christmas Carol or Miracle on 34th Street. Elijah has had horrible allergies causing puffy eyes, constant sneezing and red splotches on his cheeks. I have been taking care of the both of them and, to quote Danny Glover in Lethal Weapon, "I'm to old for this shit." (Full disclosure: Waiting on Sarah hand and foot for a couple of days was nothing compared to when I had my back surgery years ago. Sarah did an incredible job of helping me recuperate with all the TLC one could hope to get.)

Unfortunately, as a by-product of his allergies, Elijah was also getting bloody noses every day. No, that isn't right; it was every night, mostly between two and four in the morning. With Sarah somewhat disabled, I would have to clean up the little guy, change his pajamas and sheets, start a load of laundry and calm him back to sleep. (For awhile only Lizzie Borden went through more bloody sheets than we did.)

When I spoke with my mom and told her what was occurring she suggested a swab of Vaseline inside Elijah's nose each night would help. Sure enough the blood spigot has been turned off and all three of us are now sleeping peaceably through the night. I guess mom proved again she must have gained some knowledge from raising the three of us.

Which reminds me of the famous Mark Twain quote: "When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished by how much he'd learned in seven years." Thanks again mom for not only your love, but wisdom as well.

On the Beach

2010-04-02T08:22:00.016-05:00

As I mentioned on an earlier post, we spent a wonderful week at the beach in Siesta Key on Florida's Gulf Coast. Sarah found a great place a hop, step and jump from the beach, and everyone had a great time.

Vacations usually involve eating out, which, with Elijah in tow, can lead to some stressful times. Fortunately Sarah booked a room with a kitchen, so meals were, if not a pleasure, at least no different from what occurs at home. With a barbecue grill right outside our door and a Publix Market a few blocks away, meals were not only cheaper, but much healthier than our normal vacation fare. (The Publix became our second home on this vacation. Each day Elijah would ask to go there as he shares his father's odd obsession with wandering through upscale grocery stores, especially if a viewing of crayon markers or a free treat is on the agenda. With the demographics of the area being elder Jews and Hispanics, each time I went there I thought I was back at a Vons in Sherman Oaks!)

Except for a day trip to the Mote Marine Laboratory and Aquarium in Sarasota, we spent almost all of our time on the beach. Although Sarah and I enjoyed the aquarium, Elijah seemed bored by the idea of looking fish that don't talk they do in the Nemo films. One of the few times he really seemed to be enjoying himself was when he was viewing a tank that contained clownfish, or "Nemo fish" (and, as I mentioned in an earlier post, when he saw the "traffic signs" in the gift shop.) But his biggest smile came when we debarked from a tour boat. "Look Daddy...over there," he said excitedly, and joyfully pointed out a basketball court someone had constructed behind one of the docks.

The beach was wonderful. The sand, like no other I've seen, stays cool to the touch and, like the tourist brochures promised, truly does feel like flour. And as one got closer to the water, the sand became home to sea shells by the thousands, prompting beachgoers to comb the area from sunup to sundown looking for the perfect shell.

Although colder than normal for this time of year, the weather, except for rain on our last day there, was great. I got a laugh when I went out to get a paper one morning wearing shorts, a T-shirt and flip flops and encountered a gentlemen out for his morning walk bundled up in a sweatshirt, jacket and gloves. I doubt he would even leave his home during winter if he lived anywhere near us. (The warmest day of the trip coincided with the day that SEVEN inches of snow fell back home.)

Our last night coincided with the traditional drum circle event on the public Siesta Key beach. Lots of congos and bongos, hula hoops and flowers, with people encouraged to join in and dance to the rhythm. Of course our little guy jumped right in and showed the crowd his best steps.

Just like we felt about our vacation, he left the crowd wanting more!

A Quick Break from Spring Break

2010-03-28T20:55:00.007-05:00

Yes I know I promised to post more photos from our trip to Siesta Key along with details of the little guy's beach escapades, but I just haven't gotten around to it yet. In the meantime here is some new artwork that is gracing our walls that was inspired by a trip to the Sarasota Aquarium.

Once we got there Elijah had little or no interest in seeing dolphins, giant squids, pelicans and blow fish, though a tank containing a real Nemo and Dori did get his attention; but the gift shop with its various "traffic signs" (i.e. manatee crossing, a picture of a shark with the words Dead End) pique his curiosity. That interest waned however until today when, in a burst of creativity, he recreated the shark sign and added to it a variety of crossings we should be on the lookout for when we take to the highway. I don't know about you but being stuck in tape or glue and getting blindsided by a quart of milk is not my idea a joy ride.

Spring Break

2010-03-23T06:49:00.005-05:00

For those of you who have been wondering why there hasn't been a new post lately (I'm guessing ten people, including family members) here's a few pictures of where we've been with more details to follow.

What is this s**t?

2010-03-07T10:21:00.003-06:00

With Elijah, sometimes a crisis is nothing more than a DVD freezing or wagon wheel pasta that isn't cold enough. Other times, like last night, it's a bloody nose that drips on his shirt and prompts a demand for new apparel. (Not too long ago, the blood coming out of his nose would have been the cause for alarm, so I guess this is an improvement.) This morning, however, the cries of "Daddy come here!!!!" coming from the bathroom were for a problem I haven't dealt with before -- bright blue poop.

For any parents reading this blog, such a moment probably doesn't register high on the angst meter, but for Elijah, the anxiety was overwhelming.

"I don't want my poop to be blue! It needs to be brown!"

My mind went back to a birthday party he attended yesterday in which the Star Wars theme cake was layered in "dark side" black frosting, and I assumed this was was the culprit of the bowel mystery. A quick call to a nurse hotline confirmed this (after she got a good laugh) so the panic level in the household has subsided dramatically.

Sort of gives a new interpretation to the phrase "let the force be with you."

The Shin Bone's Connected to the.....

2010-03-07T08:03:00.006-06:00

Taking his cue from a certain well-known former Governor, Elijah recently decided to write some notes to himself on parts of his body. Now I don't know if the reason for his anatomy cheat sheets was an upcoming exam on body parts in kindergarten or if he just wanted a reminder for himself but, as the old saying goes, it all came out in the wash.

iPhones, The Human GPS and Other Tales from the Heartland

2010-02-22T21:41:00.017-06:00

The biggest news around here last week was Sarah's purchase of iPhones for us as a Valentine's Day gift. I know her gift was given to me because of love, but there is no doubt it is also part of Sarah's continuing effort to drag me, against my will, into the wireless age (an iPod was bought at her insistence after she saw me carrying around a Sony Walkman at our gym.) To those of you who already own an iphone, my awe at the many applications it is capable of would probably amuse you as much as it does Sarah. The ability to make a phone call, cruise the Internet, identify a song being played, get the weather or a street map of anywhere in the world, all on a device the size of your hand is amazing...and that's only a few of the applications that have already been installed by Apple. I have not yet begun to download!

Elijah continues to amaze me as much as the iPhone does. As a previous post noted, the child is indulged to no end. As further evidence of this I will take him at his request through a neighboring subdivision so he can view various basketball goals. What is amazing is that no matter how many cul-de-sacs and winding roads are in a development, he will always tell me the right way to turn and get me back to the main road. Garmin couldn't do it any better.

His artwork continues to be a constant source of pleasure and amazement. Be it renditions of a couple of minor characters from Shrek 2 or a Pooh math lesson, his eye for detail is acute.

But nothing prepared us for a book he "wrote" detailing men losing and finding their "masts" ( as best as we can figure they are some sort of hat.) I would love to post the entire book, but Sarah would kill me, so I'll just give you a sample of what he wrote and drew regarding a barn:

This picture can't do justice to the detail of the barn, especially since the entire book is only an inch and a half by two inches. Everybody who has seen it (and believe me I have shown it to quite a few) are flabbergasted by his abilities.

Alas signs, like basketball goals, never seem to be too far from his mind. Yet every once in awhile he will draw a sign that truly captures a philosophy or idea that strikes a chord (an earlier posting showed his YIELD NEW THINKING sign.)

I couldn't have said it any better!

Indulgence 101

2010-02-06T08:54:00.014-06:00

As any reader of this blog knows, Elijah's skills as an artist, as well as his fascination with traffic signs, have been well-documented over the past few years. Recently, due to both the arrival of his own signs (as mentioned in a previous post) and a rekindled interest in a couple of YouTube videos created for the Five Man Electrical Band's hit "Signs," our home has become an art gallery for every image seen on the two films.

One of my favorites is his interpretation of a "tree sign" depicted in one of the videos. I'm sure if our local nursery sold the seeds for such a sapling, we would have a grove of them in our backyard.

As if allowing this display wasn't enough spoiling of the child, Elijah's alphabet fascination also has made a comeback of sorts, and his letter renditions now grace our home office's walls. If you look closely you can make out all the letters and what they represent. (One hint: animal torsos are not his strong suit. Most if not all of them have a very compressed body shape that looks as though they have been on Jenny Craig for awhile.)

There are also a variety of hearts on the wall, which he created and cut out by himself. Thankfully they don't seem to detract from the mammoth undertaking of the "letter project" that appears on the same wall.

The part of this I find most amusing is that Sarah, who wouldn't allow certain pictures on the walls of our house as they seemed like clutter, not only has permitted this display, but actually embraces it. I guess to her way of thinking, anything is better than the wallpaper now up in the dining room.

Is this what Springsteen meant by Growin Up?

2010-01-25T19:48:00.004-06:00

One of Elijah's greatest pleasures is to tell either Sarah or myself we did something wrong. A huge smile always appears anytime he utters the phrase "Mommy (Daddy) you made a mistake" or "You made a boo-boo." To engage him in a conversation I will sometimes sing a song and deliberately say a lyric wrong, and thus get him to respond in this way. He also will do the same thing (sing a lyric with a wrong word) and expect me to say "Elijah you made a mistake", which also puts a big smile on his face.

So the other day when Sarah left something in the car, I turned and asked Elijah what happened. With a huge grin he replied that "Mommy screwed up." Sarah and I looked at each other knowing full well that we both had to take some responsibility for the broadening of our little guy's vocabulary. But we also realized that he had used the word in the proper context and was saying boo-boo in a more adult way, both of which were very positive steps. Because of this we have neither discouraged nor encouraged his new method of expression, which has led to Elijah using it on occasion (about five percent of the time) when he mentions errors made by any of us.

I know this isn't how it's taught in "Parenting 101," but if it moves Elijah even a little forward...well what the f--k.

The Full Monty

2010-01-17T06:49:00.007-06:00

As with any other child, Elijah has his pleasures and his phobias. The arrival last week of a variety of toy traffic signs resulted in one of the largest smiles you could ever see, but the movement of them from their original placement in the den was responsible for a great deal of angst. He loves the Pooh video game that Uncle George and Aunt Julie got for him, yet he runs upstairs in fear every time a Heffalump (an elephant- like creature) appears on screen, then he yells down to me instructions on how they can be defeated (by bursting a balloon). When that is accomplished, back down the stairs he runs, ready to giggle and play the game again, until the dreaded creatures reappear and the whole routine is repeated.

That's how it is with Elijah. Two steps forward, maybe a half step back. We just received his progress report from school, and though he is either working toward or exceeding most of the goals set for him at the beginning of the school term, in regard to some other skills (taking turns, initiating social contacts) there is still lots of work to be done. But there definitely is progress. When asked to draw and write about what he did over the winter break, Elijah drew a picture of two boys on a sled using the name of the neighbor boy he went sledding with. That type of acknowledgement, along with his progress at verbal communication (conversations do not have to be initiated by others, and there is some back-and-forth exchanges that follow a normal conversational pattern) is extremely encouraging. Yet, echolalia and moments when all he does is repeat dialogue or song lyrics are that half step back I mentioned earlier.

A great example of this type of behavior occurred at our fitness club the other day. As I have mentioned previously, this facility not only has a wonderful children's area, but the employees there have shown incredible patience with Elijah. Seldom these days do I get the dreaded page over the speaker system that my presence is needed at the child center because of something the little guy has done. Though he was put into "time-out" last week, my workouts have been uninterrupted for the most part these past few months.

Yesterday seemed to be like one of those days. I had concluded my exercise routine and was at the center ready to leave with him when he informed me, "Daddy, I need to go to the restroom." Elijah went to the bathroom and was finishing up his business when another little boy entered and went to the other toilet. That is when the step back took place. Elijah has developed an odd fear of toilets that have powerful (loud) flushes. It seems as if the toilet the little boy was about to use fell into that category. This caused incredible panic for Elijah, who put his hands over his ears and ran out of the restroom. The major problem with this was his pants and underwear were around his ankles, exposing those in the general vicinity to his "full monty." I quickly got him back inside, then had him pull up his pants, wash his hands and calm down. Luckily, his moment in the buff was no more than a few seconds, though it felt like minutes to me.

Afterward we talked about what had occurred and he seemed to understand that one cannot just run out in public with his pants down. Again, a step forward following a mini-step back. I can tolerate, even embrace, this type of two-step dance as long as he doesn't try to emulate a young Chippendale performer in the process.

Drowning in a Sea of Snow

2010-01-13T07:39:00.006-06:00

For those of you who live here this is old news, but for the benefit of those in my native state, this is what we were dealing with last week:

I was determined to keep our driveway clear, but as the snow kept falling, the piles got higher. But as bad as the snow piling up was, the bitter cold made it even worse. The combination of the two made it a miserable few days, but at least one person seemed to enjoy it.

The Answer My Friend is Blowin In the Wind...and the Willows

2010-01-12T20:01:00.008-06:00

Ever since my first visit to Disneyland (so long ago the canoe trip in Frontierland was considered "state-of-the-art") my favorite ride there has been Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. I always loved the quick turns and near disasters, and no, not because it reminded me of my own driving abilities. Yet, until Elijah's arrival I had never known the source and inspiration for this ride.

As a gift years ago, Elijah got a DVD of Wind and the Willows, and though the sound mix and animation of this version appears to have been done somewhere in the Outback, (it was done by a company in Australia) the little guy loves it nonetheless. And as for me, knowing the background story of Toad Hall and all of it's animal denizens, gave me not only a greater understanding of the ride, but a huge desire to share the joy of experiencing Toad's escapade with my son. (And yes, I know it will have to be at Disneyland as the Toad ride was closed in Orlando.)

So until we take that trip to childhood Mecca, which will be probably this year, Elijah will have to make do with a DVD, his imagination and the artistic ability to recreate the main characters:

I think Walt would have been proud.

O.J. Simpson.....still not a Jew

2009-12-26T09:45:00.013-06:00

When the holiday season rolls around, Sarah insists on Christmas CDs in the car. Nothing wrong with that, not with Bruce Springsteen's Santa Claus is Coming to Town and Merry Christmas, Baby available; along with Adam Sandler's Chanukah Song (from which the title of this blog posting was taken) on a disc made by a heathen friend of mine. So with Nat King Cole as background music, Sarah and I set off to make the holidays special for little guy.

Since Chanukah came early this year, Elijah got a head start on the presents and the "gelt" (chocolate coins, for those like O.J.). On the first night, Elijah got a new Tramp figurine (to replace the one he broke years ago) to go with his Lady. He was so happy he carried it with him for all eight nights (and beyond). He also got more markers, a goofball (don't even ask) and from our friend Bunni (whom I always refer to as his surrogate Grandma), he got Nutcracker figurines, which along with Lady and Tramp made their way from room to room.

My gift from Elijah was his continuing progress (a big-shout out to his therapists and school!) and his ability to recite the Hebrew prayer as we lit the candles on the menorah. Considering the fact that probably no one else in my family can do that, I was very pleased.

With the arrival of Christmas and a record snowstorm on the same day, inside was where we spent most of the day. (Sarah and Elijah in their Christmas pajamas, Daddy in sweats.) There was a quick foray into the backyard to play in the snow (wind chills in the minus territory brought me in before the little guy; Sarah never even made it to the door).

Santa was good to Elijah. He got a beloved basketball goal (indoor variety), on which he has been practicing his dribble drive to the hoop. An indoor trampoline, which has yet to be assembled. (According to the instructions, assembly takes "three strong adults," which we are two short of in the house, although Sarah's bad knee gives her an excuse.) More markers, a couple of yo-yos, some games that he has played and enjoyed with his therapists in the past and an overhead projector that allows Elijah to trace more than 200 images and animals. Of course, this list doesn't include the extremely generous contributions of family members toward Elijah's camp fund, a gift he is not aware of now but will enjoy a great deal next year. (We have been assured the camp is on track again for next summer!)

And just today Aunt Julie and Uncle George came by and not only brought Elijah his first video game play station, but also aided in assembling the trampoline, which put a huge smile on the little guy's face

So as the holiday weekend winds down and I go out to shovel the driveway so Sarah can get to work (I don't have to get out in this mess). I have to say it was truly "the most wonderful time of the year."

Except for this ....

Two Birds in the Hand.....

2009-12-25T11:14:00.010-06:00

Using his artistic ability to interpret everyday objects is one of Elijah's many charms. When the moment moves him , he will create a picture based on some small phrase or object that most others wouldn't even take note of. Such an event occurred the other night when he climbed up on the bookcase in our den and got off the shelf two brass bird statues that have done nothing but collect dust for at least 10 years.

His fascination with these birds is not new. On numerous occasions over the past few years, he has insisted that "Daddy get the gold birds for Elijah" so he can place them in various areas around the house. Yesterday, however, when the request came, it was immediately followed by another query asking for markers and paper.

What follows is Elijah's Men as Birds masterpiece:

Why Kung Fu Panda is no Winnie the Pooh

2009-11-22T21:42:00.006-06:00

I will admit that I enjoy watching movies more than reading. I also will fess up to enjoying the films To Kill a Mockingbird and The Godfather more than the novels, although in both cases it was incredible performances that made it so. I can also state, I think without too much debate, that perhaps the worst film adaptation of a great book was Bonfire of the Vanities, which turned one of the lead characters, an old Yiddish judge, into Morgan Freeman (?!) thus destroying one of the major subplots.

So I was somewhat hesitant when I took Elijah to go see the film version of Where the Wild Things Are, a classic children's book that consists of maybe 100 words, yet was over an hour and a half long as a movie. We had already experienced Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, which besides the title, shared little with the book we read together on many nights. My fears about the Maurice Sendak classic turned out to be well founded. Although Elijah seemed to enjoy the movie (though restlessness was evident on occasion) the charm of the book was completely lost in the midst of what I would call a movie not about childhood escape but about monster angst.

As draining as watching the tortured souls of the "Wild Things" was (the anguish of new friends, old relationships and anger management were constant topics for discussion), it was a joy compared to the "live action" versions of the Dr. Seuss classics How the Grinch Stole Christmas and The Cat in the Hat. Whoever was responsible for those travesties needs to be locked in a room for a weekend and be forced to view them over and over again.

Since Elijah's arrival, I have watched enough cartoons and kids movies to revisit my childhood many times over (OK, I'll admit I owned a lot of those films already) and unlike most of today's stuff, it holds up pretty well. Even after viewing the cartoon Grinch numerous times, both Elijah and I can still enjoy it a great deal, which is not the case with just a repeat viewing of Fly Me to the Moon (even with the 3-D). The Disney "Classics," the original Horton Hears a Who cartoon, and the Peanuts Trilogy (Charlie Brown Christmas, Thanksgiving and Great Pumpkin) show what a child's cartoon film should be about....entertaining fun, memorable music and no more than 80 minutes long.

California.... There We Went

2009-11-07T06:55:00.014-06:00

First off I have to apologize to any blog purists who may peruse this site. I am probably violating every rule of blog etiquette by posting out of chronological order, as my previous entry concerned Halloween and our trip out west was the prior week. If everybody is okay with that...let's head for L.A.

Airplane travel with Elijah, though challenging at times, had been made much easier by markers, loads of paper and a portable DVD player (pictured above) loaded with a supply of his favorite films. In fact, concern about his behavior actually has made flying more enjoyable for me as I don't have time for my usual airplane neuroses to kick in. So after a non-eventual flight (unless one considers the reshaping of the United States important - check out the previous post on that subject) we arrived at LAX to begin our real trek, the drive to the Valley.

We all remember those math questions from our school days that started, "If a train leaves from the station at 1:00 traveling at 80 miles per hour and a car leaving from an opposite direction travels at 60 miles per hour, they will meet where?" but on this last trip I discovered a new variation on this theme. If a plane leaves Kansas City going to LAX and at the same time a family in a rental car leaves LAX for the San Fernando Valley, who will arrive at their destination first? The answer: Although the flight was the quicker trip, the time differential was less than 20 minutes.

Okay, now that I got my traffic gripe out of the way, I'd have to say that this was one of our best trips back home. We stayed with my sister and her husband, whose generosity knew no bounds. Our base camp for the trip was their guest house (or, as Elijah called it, "the little house at Aunt Kathy's") which not only afforded us privacy and a pool for little guy to jump into, but also relieved us from the stress of us worrying about (very) early morning risings and the effect on our hosts. We spent lots of time with family and kept our driving to a minimal amount (in Los Angeles terms). And the weather was incredible...shorts everyday and a comfortable beach day in LATE OCTOBER!

Elijah battled the waves to a draw but vowed to return and beat them back from the shore at our next beach visit.

As with any trip with a child, there were a couple of meltdowns (one involving a hysterical Elijah using a public restroom had me fearful of authorities busting into our stall and taking me away in cuffs) but as he always does, our little guy adapted to his surroundings and had a good time. He got to see Grandma and Grandpa (whom he now recognizes) again, as well as Uncles Ken and Marv and Aunt Kathy. He also got to visit "Miss Judy's house," meet cousins and dance one more time with Doctor Branch, a client of mine who just turned 101.

He also got to leave his mark as an artist, as a blue IHOP sign and various color drawings he created were left up on walls until our departure (note to Aunt Kathy and Miss Judy, I won't tell Elijah if you want to take them down now). As I said before, it was a great trip and just one more step on Elijah's path of life.

To Infinity......and Beyond

2009-11-05T22:03:00.023-06:00

As Halloween approached this year, we were faced with a problem -- a child who did not want to be in costume or go trick-or-treating. The idea of dressing Elijah as a chimney sweep (never high on Sarah's list) had fallen off the radar as the Little Guy (finally) tired of "Mary Poppins." Since he was constantly going around the house dancing and singing "If I Only Had a Brain" from the the Wizard of Oz, I thought dressing up as the Scarecrow would interest Elijah, but that idea was also met with indifference. It got so bad that Sarah asked the teacher at Elijah's school if there was a way to opt out of class on the Friday before Halloween, as everybody was supposed to be costume for a school parade.

I've heard of parents asking that their children be excused from, say, sex education classes, but Halloween parties and parades? That's a new one! Then I got an idea. On the plane ride out to Los Angeles and numerous times while we were there, Elijah had asked to watch "Toy Story." He was so enamored of the film that I had to ask him, "Would you like to be Buzz Lightyear for Halloween?" Just like in a Hail Mary pass at the end of a game, we connected, with a resounding "YES!" from the Little Guy. So two days before the big day, we sojourned to a costume store and got one of the last Buzz Lightyear costumes available.

To say Elijah got into the holiday spirit would be a minor understatement. He couldn't wait to put on his costume and reap the rewards. There was a show-and-tell scheduled for his class the same day as the parade and he eagerly rehearsed his speech using his "Woody" doll, but later wanted it amended to include Jessie (another character from the film). Also, according to Sarah, he was quite proud when some other kids pointed out how "cool" his costume was.

But that was a controlled environment as opposed to the dog-eat-dog world of neighborhood trick-or-treating, but my fears were unfounded. I am happy to report that an exercise that usually took all of twenty minutes and included maybe a half dozen houses, was a two hour excursion that took in most of our immediate neighborhood. Proudly announcing "My name is Buzz Lightyear and I come in peace" or Buzz's catchphrase (the title of this blog), the little guy happily rang doorbells and collected candy.

Of course there were a couple of minor faux pas. One was Elijah's insistence of not just standing on the porch of a house but walking right in and taking a look around. Another was his lack of understanding that the bowl of candy being offered was not just for him exclusively, and that he wasn't suppose to grab a handful at every house. But outside of that he was a gleeful camper collecting Hershey's Bars and Milky Ways like a real pro.

A funny incident occurred at a home around the block from us. As we approached the porch, I noticed all the lights were on and though the storm door was closed, the inside door was open. When Elijah rang the doorbell a huge Saint Bernard dog started barking and jumping up on the door. Elijah, whose fear of dogs is only matched by Sarah's fear of spiders, ran back to my side as fast as he could. We waited for a moment or so and just before we were ready to go on a woman opened the door and beckoned us with four large chocolate bars (two Nestle Crunches and two Hershey with Almonds) which Elijah bravely took and placed into his pumpkin carrier. It was almost as if we were being tested (don't let the dog scare you away and your reward we be giant candy bars) and we passed. In fact, for the next fifteen minutes, the existence and whereabouts of those two Crunch bars were Elijah's only concern.

So how successful was this year's Halloween? I'll let you know after Elijah visits the dentist in a couple of months.

TO INFINITY AND BEYOND.....or at least to the house on the next block with the Crunch bars!

Alex, I'll take geography for $300

2009-10-29T06:10:00.006-05:00

We just got back from visiting family (plus some friends and clients) in Los Angeles, where the temperature was in the 90s and the air was the same color as the hills -- brown. Although we did our usual driving all over town, we also spent more time at our "home base" (my sister's house) than we normally do, and that made this trip more relaxing. (There will be a more detailed post on this subject in a few days.)

On the flight out to L.A., Elijah, using the markers and the ream of paper we brought on board, drew many things. Most important to him was his map of "the United Stades of America" shown below:

If you can't quite make it out, the purple states are Texas and Colorado, and while I have no idea where he thinks the "State of News" is, I can tell him that it isn't a place to be right now.

Though you can't tell from this map, the amount of beachfront property available in Kansas is very limited. And in Elijah's world, that coast-to-coast flight from "York" to "Caforina" sure seems a lot easier. No matter, Elijah was extremely proud of his map, and, during our trip, needed to know where it was on a daily basis.

Our little guy's career as a cartographer continued when we got home, but this time it was global in nature...

Naturally, Washington plays a major role in world affairs and can't be ignored, but its placement is telling. Florida has to be on there, because that's where Mickey Mouse lives, and besides, without Florida, what would be the purpose of spring break? Mexico is where Mom's favorite drink (magaritas) comes from. And Kansas proudly sits right there on top of the world.

After all, there's no place like home.

Emotional Rescue

2009-10-16T06:58:00.016-05:00

A byproduct of Elijah's autism is his occasional inability to understand emotions. If we are out somewhere and a child is crying, he will stare intently, smile and say, "Daddy, (s)he is upset." And he fully understands when we are angry; when either Sarah or I raise our voices, he knows he has crossed a certain line. (Admittedly, that line is a lot further out for me than for Sarah, which he also comprehends very well.)

As part of his therapy, he is being shown pictures of facial expressions and asked to convey what emotions are being expressed. Since he was toddler, there has been a poster up in his room with pictures of children showing wide ranges of emotions. He had commented on this poster before (and impersonated the different facial expressions shown) but the new emphasis on reading emotions has inspired Elijah to a series of artistic endeavors as shown below:

Notice the reason for his pride....the medal on his chest!

But my absolute favorite is this one for obvious reasons:

A Cold Day in........Kansas

2009-10-10T14:05:00.010-05:00

Although it was indeed a very cold day, Sarah, Elijah and I made our way to the Kansas Speedway for the Autism Speaks Walk. I don't know what it is about autism walks and the weather, but the previous two times I have participated in this type of event, the weather has been horrible. The first time, it sleeted -- with a wind-chill factor in single digits -- and the other time, rain poured down as if we were in a monsoon.

But because I felt it was our duty to go, I dragged Sarah and Elijah out in the cold. Elijah had a great time (the fact that he was in the wagon the entire two-mile walk, wrapped in warm blankets, didn't hurt) and with TWO moonwalks to jump and slide on, how could he not? Dad had a pretty good time as well, as I got to talk with some people on some autism-related issues and see my little guy laugh and smile. Even Mom, who was tired and cold, eventually got into the spirit of things.

With a "Fall Festival" scheduled for tomorrow at a large metropolitan park, and the weather forecasters saying it will be the same type of day, I know my work is cut out for me if I want to convince Sarah to come with us. But somehow, when she is sitting in the warmth of our home seeing the smile on his face in these pictures, Sarah gets a little more willing to join our little astronaut on another "moonwalk."

Bouncing around in his favorite spot....inside a moon walk.

Curb Your Enthusiasm

2009-09-26T13:57:00.014-05:00

The title of this post has three meanings. First, as a homage to one of my all-time top three favorite television series (the two others are "Taxi" and "The Larry Sanders Show"), which returned to the air this week.

Second, for those of you who read and enjoy this blog and want to know why it isn't updated more often, understand we love the fact that you read our meanderings, but with both of us working and taking care of Elijah, the time left for creating these short masterpieces is limited.

Last, the title of this post is what I want to tell Elijah whenever Mary Poppins or an inflated moonwalk is available ...

With that out of the way, I will now bring you up to date.

As Sarah has mentioned previously, Elijah has started kindergarten, and it appears he is doing pretty well. He seems to enjoy his class and the after-school care program he goes to three times a week. Fortunately for us, most of his odd observations and behavior seem to be confined to our home.

As an example, Sarah mentioned to me that one day he announced he had to go to the restroom. Nothing wrong there, but when she thought he had been gone too long, she opened the door to find him standing on the sink looking at himself in the mirror, completely naked except for a strand of Mardi Gras beads around his neck. New Orleans, here we come!!

The bathroom seems to be a source of constant material for the little guy. Another day he told Sarah that the shape of the toilet looked like an arm on each side, which meant the bowl would be the person's head, when one lifted the lid, they would go "pee pee in that person's mouth!" Who knew? And I won't even get started on Elijah's fear of loud toilets, in which a Wendy's restroom off the interstate is in his mind is as horrible as Jason, Hannibal Lecter and Al Capone combined.

As I mentioned earlier, Mary Poppins is more popular around here than ice cream, with Elijah singing and dancing along with every song in this two-hour-plus opus.

(By the way, I didn't remember that there was a song or dance every five minutes of the movie, which is important only because Elijah insists we dance with him. Talk about an aerobic workout!)

His fascination with words and a certain song in the movie is evident here and was also written on a blackboard in a classroom at a temple we were attending for a special-needs program. The rabbi was so stunned she took pictures to show the congregation. (The printing on the board was much neater and in a straight line, which made it even more impressive.)

Elijah's love of this movie knows no bounds, and he expresses it in many ways. To mimic the "penguin dance," he will pull his pants down (just like Dick Van Dyke) as well as dance on his knees. The rooftop dance scene with the chimney sweeps is another favorite, with Elijah doing high kicks and a balancing dance step that would qualify him for a role in "A Chorus Line."

But his artistic side is also inspired by Mary. The following are just a few of his drawings from the film:

The hat rack Mary pulls out of her suitcase...

The lamp Mary pulls out next...

and his drawing of Old Man Dawes, who died laughing....

A short time later, another drawing appeared in our den, which I thought was also inspired by Mary Poppins. When I asked Elijah if this was his interpretation of the dance sequence "Step in Time" I was told no, that this had nothing to do with the movie.

"So what is it?" I asked.

"He's going to the restroom!" was the reply, and if you look closely, you can definitely spot the anatomy needed and the action occurring.

But it hasn't all been nothing but "a jolly holiday with Mary" around here. As I mentioned, we attended a program at a local temple with the preparation for the event stressing out Dad as he was trying to get the little guy dressed and ready. And because the little guy loves to remember and repeat songs and phrases that he hears, I probably shouldn't, while frustrated in getting him ready, utter the phrase "God damn it". (Yes, I know that seems mild, but just the previous week, without any warning, Elijah let loose, in an matter-of-fact way, a profanity-laced tirade dealing with spilled coffee. Since neither he nor I drink coffee or work at a Starbucks, it is quite obvious whom he heard it from.)

Sure enough, later that day at the grocery store, Elijah was riding in the large part of the cart drinking some water after his usual free cookie from the bakery, when Dad banged the cart against a display case (please no comments about my hitting stationary objects, even with a shopping cart). That action caused the following reaction from Elijah; "God damn it .... the water's cold!" Now mind you, this wasn't shouted in anger, but said in pure disgust with the situation. And as if to show that this wasn't a short-term memory situation, it repeated itself two weeks later. While he was eating a bowl of carrots in the back seat on the way to the gym, the bowl fell to the car floor as I took a corner a little too fast. "God damn it, the carrots are on the floor!" was Elijah's understated response, and though I know I shouldn't, I had to smile just a bit.

Interesting observations have become the norm for Elijah lately. A couple of examples: One day last week, completely out of the blue, he mentioned to Sarah that "somebody had two babies and six babies on 'Jon & Kate Plus Eight!' " A couple of days later, noticing the difference in height between Sarah and me as we were all walking down a hallway, he commented that "Daddy needs to be taller."

He also is greeting people with his killer smile and saying the right things. (Upon seeing a classroom assistant from a previous semester, he hugged her and said, "Hi, sweetie.")

All in all, it has been a great summer and a good start to the fall. As Sarah mentioned earlier, he loves school and he has already charmed the Y-Care (YMCA after-school program) people and the new therapists he is working with. He is talking more and wants to play with (or at least alongside) the neighborhood kids. There are festivals aplenty coming up in the next few weeks, all of which involve moonwalks, so he should have that big smile on his face for quite awhile. (The picture at the top of this post was from one such festival this week.)

Lastly, as a point of parental privilege, I have bought the items needed for his Halloween costume this year. Just like his daddy was 45 years ago, he will be the chimney sweep from "Mary Poppins." When he puts on the hat and starts to twirl the broom, all I can say is, "God damn it, he's cute!"

All aboard for kindergarten!

2009-09-02T18:39:00.003-05:00

My, it's been awhile, hasn't it? Does it help that I have an excuse or two -- or 10 --for not posting anything lately?

If you're one of Elijah's grandparents, who at last count accounted for approximately 80 percent of the readers of this blog, I'm guessing the answer is no.

But I'll try anyway: School has started (five dropoffs and pickups a week), I'm in physical therapy for a knee injury (two therapy visits a week), Elijah is seeing both a speech therapist and an occupational therapist (two therapy visits a week), and I'm temporarily working full time again (five round-trip commutes to downtown each week, arriving back home at 12:30 a.m.).

Technically, there are also bills to be paid and rooms to be cleaned and laundry and yard work and grocery shopping to be done, though as you might imagine, I'm not quite keeping up with it alone. (Thank you, Jeff, for being a fantastic dad and husband and mower of lawns and washer of clothes and grocery shopper!)

On top of it all, there are various houseguests on the way in the next few weeks. You all know who you are; please forgive us in advance for the state of the house. We actually do look forward to having you here, but you can't say you weren't warned.

(An aside: How do households with two full-time workers and more than one child manage to maintain their sanity? I simply couldn't do it!)

Kindergarten seems to be going reasonably well for Elijah. It's too early for parent-teacher conferences, although we have already had back-to-school night and parent information night and some other night whose purpose I can't even remember. Many other such nights are scheduled throughout the year -- book fair, curriculum night, and on and on, making me wonder how I made it through 12 years of public schools with nothing more than the occasional "open house." (Just fine, actually.)

So far, kindergarten has held no surprises -- Elijah's still ahead of the curve on academic stuff and behind on everything else.

That's why he's in occupational therapy, which focuses on getting him to follow instructions, work as part of a group and pay close attention to the behaviors, moods and words of others. We're hoping it will help close the gap between Elijah and typical kindergartners.

That gap is sometimes literal. When lining up to go somewhere, which appears to constitute a fairly big portion of a kindergartner's day, Elijah is always the one wandering off, or slowing down as the line makes its way down the hall -- to the point that children behind him are pushing him and begging him to get moving along. He doesn't seem to have much interest in moving along, preferring to wait until a teacher or aide takes him by the hand and speeds him up. I've always found it perfectly acceptable to pull him around from place to place, but of course the teachers at school have better things to do -- this ain't preschool!

And that's the shocker for him. After four years of preschool, he's become rather accustomed to being in a sheltered environment. Those classes consisted of a few kids with "special needs," like Elijah, and a few "peer models," who were chosen on the basis of personality traits tending toward the calm and quiet. And several adults were in each classroom.

But now he's in the rough-and-tumble of a mainstream kindergarten, where the girls talk nonstop and the boys roughhouse nonstop. Being not much of a talker and not much of a roughhouser, Elijah is a bit taken aback by it all, but he's doing well (with the help of an extra adult in the classroom) and seems to like it just fine. His skill with academic tasks when compared with the other kids gives him a bit of confidence, which helps. (He's been writing complete sentences for several years now, so this week's homework -- a worksheet on the letter "C" -- is not exactly a challenge.)

I don't really have time for much more of an update, but I'll try to sit down in the next week or so and share the (surprising) tale of what appears to be Elijah's favorite class.

Hint: His favorite color is now "rouge."

Au revoir ......

Does Best Western need a spokes-child?

2009-08-13T21:05:00.006-05:00

Heaven knows I have tried.

I have tried to nurture a love of the outdoors in my son. I have tried to pique his interest in nature and in the many ways it manifests itself here in our neck of the (suburban) woods. I take him out on the porch to watch thunderstorms. I take him sledding down snow-covered hills. I point out the first blooms of spring, the hum of cicadas in the summer and the vibrant colors of autumn. We've gone on nature walks and hayrides. We've been river rafting and cave-exploring. We've caught fireflies. We've petted dogs.

He's not buying any of it.

Like so many others of his generation, Elijah would much rather be inside, watching a video or playing on the computer. Driving out into the wilderness with him, you can almost feel the sense of alarm rising from the back seat as his voice grows increasingly concerned: "Where's all the cars? Where's McDonald's?" And, if you should have reason to turn onto a dirt road ..... "WHAT HAPPENED TO THE STREET?!!!!"

For a long time, I blamed this on his genetic contribution from Jeff, who has to be bribed at length to even sit out on the back patio with me on a beautiful summer evening. Needless to say, dirt roads are not part of Jeff's life experience (no, honey, dust does not ruin the engine).

But to be fair, I'm not exactly an outdoors person either, unless "outdoors person" is defined as someone who likes to open the windows on a nice day. Roughing it, to me, means sleeping on sheets with a thread count of less than 500. Pioneer woman, I am not.

But I do have something of a pioneer background, at least compared with most of my friends, neighbors and co-workers. I actually grew up in a remote small town, which happens to be nestled in the hill country of the Ozarks. That's where I drag Jeff and Elijah once a year, to experience the woods and the rivers and the springs and the caves. A couple of the new photos over there on the right were taken at our last journey into the woods, when we hiked a short trail to reach a beautiful spring that feeds the river we rafted on last summer.

It has been about three weeks since we returned from that trip, which involved not only playing in the river and hiking the trail, but also visiting family and walking around the town where I grew up.

So what does Elijah most remember and love about this trip?

The hotel, of course. A run-of-the-mill chain -- Best Western. Clean enough and relatively new, it's a perfectly acceptable hotel, but THIS IS NOT WHY WE DROVE A 500-MILE ROUND TRIP. Elijah would be stunned to hear me say that, but he doesn't read this blog, so I guess he'll just cling to the notion that the whole reason we go down to West Plains, Missouri, is so he can jump back and forth between the beds in the hotel room.

It's really hard to describe how much he loves doing this. For MONTHS after every trip, he begs to go back. The begging reaches a fever pitch anytime things are not going his way. When I sent him to "time out" for misbehaving the other day, he chose to use that time sobbing, over and over: "Want to go to the hotel in West Plains." (hiccup, sob, sniff...) "Want to go to" (dramatic wail) "BEST WESTERRRRRRN!!!!"

So, to my family: Sorry. We tried. We tried to get your one and only grandchild interested in visiting you and enjoying the beautiful wilderness areas you have. But next summer, I think we will limit our outdoors adventures to Jeff and Elijah's comfort zone of suburban golf courses and swimming pools. (Our city actually has a beautiful municipal swimming pool, which consists of three pools, slides, a "sprayground" of fountains, lots of grass and trees and flowerbeds, wooden sundecks, etc. Relaxing in a lounge chair there, you could almost fool yourself into believing you were on vacation at a tropical resort, except for the regrettable lack of a thatched-roof hut selling frilly umbrella drinks.)

And to Jeff's family: California, here we come! We'll be there in a couple of months, and Elijah will be thrilled at the vista of cars and McDonald's as far as the eye can see. Nothing will happen to the street -- Ventura Boulevard is his favorite, and I don't recall it turning into a dirt road at any point. But if you want him to really get excited about seeing you, you'll need to do just one little thing:

Please build a Best Western in your back yard.

I know Tom Hanks looks different with long hair....but not this much!

2009-08-01T18:18:00.006-05:00

Last month our cable company had one of those specials that run every few months, though I guess their frequency wouldn't make them so special. For the month of July we would receive two extra premium movie channels for free with the hope we would become so enamored that we would have to sign (pay) up once our trial period ran out. Fifty opportunities to see Lara Croft Tomb Raider is probably forty-nine too many, so I wasn't about to increase my cable bill just yet, however I did take advantage of the offer by DVRing a variety of movies I have missed, including a couple of recent Oscar winners.

Being the caring husband that I am, I saw there was going to be a showing on late one night of a film that Sarah had not seen, but had been fascinated by the story, if not the writing. The DaVinci Code was going to be on at 1:00 a.m. so I decided to tape it for her. It wasn't until the next morning that I discovered that the film I recorded was not the Ron Howard directed version, but was in fact called the DaVinci Coed, a soft-core porn movie which I doubt followed the book too closely. The reason I don't know the storyline is that the opening scene in this "classic" involved two girls and what appeared to be a sultan in a hot tub that was suppose to be in a palace in Europe but sure looked like a backyard in the San Fernando Valley. This threesome was interrupted by another woman, upset that the sultan would not give her his "powerful ring" (Wasn't this the plot line of the Beatles film "Help".) and thus murdered all three by electrocuting them with a toaster tossed into the hot tub, cord and all.

Now forgetting for a moment the absurdity of a unplugged toaster being tossed into water and thus shocking these people to death, the special effects of lightning bolts shooting through the water to show this mayhem were "Plan Nine from Outer Space" variety. Now I am not adverse to watching a sexy movie, but even a fantasy has to have some basis in reality and even I couldn't get by an electrocution by an unplugged appliance. I immediately deleted the film and now it has, in Sarah's mind, become an urban legend of smut.

But I haven't soured on recording movies that seem interesting to me. As an example I was unaware of a Dirty Harry sequel playing tonight that I must have missed when it came out. No, I'm not talking about Sudden Impact or Magnum Force, both of which I've seen. Has anyone heard of Dirty Harriet? Oh well, I'll give you my review later.

Less stuff, more substance

2009-07-17T20:54:00.005-05:00

I've always preferred to spend money on experiences rather than things. That's why, even though we've never found the funds to replace our 1979 Formica countertops or the lovely "harvest gold" range top of the same era, we shell out thousands of dollars on vacations whenever we possibly can. It's why I'm willing to spend three times as much on a nice dinner out than I would ever spend on, say, a sweater or a pair of shoes. And it's why, on a night I'm not needed at work, I'll forgo the pay to spend time with Jeff and Elijah instead.

I think about this often as I stand in our basement playroom, surveying the enormous pile of games and toys that Elijah has accumulated over his six years on the planet. Like any typical American kid, he has way more than he needs. But unlike typical kids, he never really has gotten excited about much of it. Part of that is related to his autism -- he's totally "out of the loop" when it comes to kid culture, and he has no idea what the hot toys are -- or even that there ARE hot toys. Not once has he ever requested a gift of any type, for Christmas or Hanukkah or his birthday (unless you count his lifelong obsession with basketball goals, which he now wants about 20 of). Not once has he begged for something he's seen advertised on TV. Not once has he walked up to a store shelf and asked me to buy one of the items for him.

I got to thinking about the absurdity of consumerism while I was buying supplies for his birthday party a few weeks back. After picking up some basic partyware, I was wandering the aisles, looking at the astounding array of cheaply made junk designed to be purchased as "party favors" to fill little gift bags for the young guests. You know the stuff I'm talking about -- little plastic toys and jewelry and such that seems to fall apart almost at once.

It occurred to me that this stuff, all from China, was no doubt manufactured in one of those industrial cities that belch filth into the sky day and night and coat everything they make with toxic paint. Then it was taken in big, gas-guzzling, carbon-monoxide-emitting trucks to the seaport, where it was shipped across the Pacific, only to be placed on yet another greenhouse-gas form of transportation until it reached the middle of the country, where it sat on a store shelf until some well-meaning mother paid a few cents for it in a party-supply store, and probably took it home in a plastic bag. From there, it goes into a gift bag for a child who plays with it a few minutes at most before losing interest (or seeing it fall apart). Shortly thereafter, it's added to an already overflowing landfill.

If it were only little things, perhaps it wouldn't bother me so much. But the sequence of events I've just described applies to a lot of things that take up much more space in those low-mpg trucks -- and eventually in landfills. I'm afraid it's going to apply, eventually, to many of the toys now filling our basement. You know, those toys that Elijah never had much interest in to begin with, for whatever developmental or personality-based reasons.

This isn't to say he doesn't appreciate his gifts. Some of them he has been fanatical about -- Tinkertoys from my dad a few years back come to mind. He spent months carrying around a set of dolls from "Toy Story" from my sister and her boyfriend. He absolutely loves a scooter we bought him with money from my mom, and many of his favorite books are from Jeff's parents. Currently, he's head-over-heels crazy about a computer program Jeff's sister gave him.

But this summer, as I've seen how much he's developed at summer camp, it's become very clear to me that what he needs is not something that comes in a box. (Yes, I know I'm starting to sound like Dr. Suess here; I won't launch into the moral of the Grinch story.) He needs experiences like the one he's getting at camp -- playing sports and learning teamwork and taking swimming lessons and going on field trips and so on. Those summer months can be a developmental death trap for kids with autism, who need structured settings all year round, not just during the school months.

Problem is, summer camp is expensive, even for typical kids. For kids with autism, where a much higher adult-child ratio is necessary, they're even more expensive.

That's why, from now on, we're asking everyone in the family (but thank you to those who are not in the family, for reading this blog anyway! All 10 or 15 of you!) to no longer buy Elijah gifts for Hanukkah and Christmas and his birthday. Trust us, he already has plenty! And we'll make sure he has a few modest presents (from us) to unwrap on those days.

Instead, please consider making a donation toward summer camp, in whatever amount you would have spent on a gift. We're setting up a bank account next week that we intend to use ONLY for summer camp, so we're getting a good start on next year. In addition to a hefty "seed money" contribution of our own, we're using some money my mom left us for gift-buying purposes, as well as a check that Jeff's parents sent for the same purpose (yes, we had intended to get him a small trampoline and probably still will, but we're much more excited about the camp fund!)

My hope is that a few small donations from family throughout the year, along with larger donations by us, will cover most of the cost of camp each summer. At this age, he's just going to a day camp (and a wonderful one it is!), but as he gets older, I hope to give him the experience of a real, in-the-woods sleep-away camp. There is just such a place not far from here, with a session each summer devoted to kids on the autism spectrum. It has all the traditional summer camp experiences: Swimming, fishing, horseback riding, hiking, sports, arts, campfires and s'mores! It's in very high demand and draws applicants from several states, so there's no guarantee we'll get in, but we're sure going to try. I'm even hoping to be involved as a volunteer -- although I must admit I probably wouldn't if they didn't have air-conditioned cabins!

So, if you are on that list of people who always feel obliged (and stumped) when it comes to gift-giving for Elijah, be stumped no more! Help us put a stop to materialism before it even starts for Elijah. Help us make his life more about substance and less about stuff.

Thank you!!!!!

There's no place like home

2009-07-10T19:58:00.008-05:00

I always knew Elijah would love "The Wizard of Oz"; it was in his genes. (I had been Munchkin of the Day on a local radio show many, many years ago.) So I was excited to see that it was going to be playing uninterrupted on TCM this past holiday weekend. Yay, DVR!

Boy, was I right. He was riveted to the screen for the entire movie. He loved the music, the color of OZ and especially the main characters (the Wicked Witch didn't scare him, but the flying monkeys necessitated Daddy sharing the chair for hugs). When we went to the park that night for fireworks, the walk back to the car was punctuated by Elijah's singing of "We're off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of OZ. Because because because because because because because because" (at this point Daddy, for the peace of mind of anyone walking near us, informed Elijah that it was because of the wonderful things he does.)

His love of the film hasn't waned (like any child, he will watch something that he likes over and over again), and repeated viewings have caused his creative side to emerge. At the top of this post is the front of a card he did today. Below is the inside ...

This is one of many wonderful things he does!

The Cadillac of camps

2009-07-08T19:53:00.007-05:00

So it's been awhile. But give me a break, OK? What with hauling Elijah to and from camp every day, working until midnight four nights a week, trying to make it to the gym four days a week (success!) and trying to keep the jungle known as our yard under control (failure), blogging has fallen a bit by the wayside for both Jeff and me. I see that we haven't even updated those "Spring Arrives At Last" pictures there on the right. Perhaps by the first snowfall, we'll get around to it.

All in all, we've been having a good summer. Elijah's camp experience is going well, except that the therapists are a bit frustrated with his inattentiveness (which I refer to as spaciness) and his failure to follow directions (which I refer to as just plain annoying).

It's been suggested that we try a gluten-free diet, which, if you know anything about autism, is the standard well-meaning suggestion from well-meaning people who do not share a home with an extraordinarily picky eater -- a topic I covered thoroughly in my June 9 post and will spare you from rehashing here.

I'm all for improving his diet, but once you eliminate pizza, mac and cheese, bagel chips, pretzels, cookies, granola bars, bread, crackers, cake, spaghetti, all other pasta, all other baked goods and anything that involves flour or wheat in any form, you pretty much eliminate the entire American diet. (Which, come to think of it, is the whole point of that documentary "Food, Inc." and is, in theory, not a bad idea.)

Yes, adults with celiac disease manage just fine without gluten, but adults with celiac disease understand WHY they need to manage their diets very carefully. Just try explaining the (scientifically tenuous) connection between autism and diet to a 6-year-old who has no idea what the words "autism" or "diet" mean, much less the word "gluten," but knows he's very hungry right now and Mommy won't let him have a granola bar OR bagel chips OR mac and cheese OR waffles OR cereal OR toast OR .... you get the idea.

I'm sure at this point you're wondering, "Why doesn't she just try the gluten-free alternatives in the supermarket?" To which I can only reply, have YOU ever tried them? If so, my sympathies. Super-mint toothpaste will help get that taste out of your mouth.

So, on we go. We're within six weeks of the start of kindergarten, and state budget cuts have made it extremely unlikely that there will be a para in the classroom to help Elijah and other "spacy" (or, if you prefer, "special needs") kids through the day. It makes me really dread the school year. And really grateful that I'm not a kindergarten teacher.

Still, I'm trying to go forward with some degree of optimism. At the very least, we have Elijah in a good place for the summer -- a much better place than being home with a sleep-deprived night-shift-working mom. (Note to self: In next life, be born wealthy and never have to work for a living. There! I feel more optimistic already.)

As a measure of just how great this camp is, consider this: For Elijah's birthday, the camp arranged for all the kids to take a limousine ride to Chuck-E-Cheese (which could probably just rename itself Chuck-E-Gluten).

Limo rides are no big deal to a lot of kids in my area -- no self-respecting 8-year-old girl around here would be caught dead throwing a birthday party that didn't include a limo ride and some sort of "spa day" -- but I am of a more down-to-earth nature, and this was Elijah's first-ever view of the inside of a limo. (Mine, too, actually. Until three weeks ago, I could always note with pride that I would never be pretentious enough to go anywhere in a limo. Now I've wasted that source of pride on a franchise pizza place featuring a giant singing mouse.)

So here it is -- the gas-guzzling, global-warming Cadillac Escalade behemoth that transported a group of wide-eyed kids and their moms (and in Elijah's case, grandma) for a spin around the suburbs and to the much-beloved Chuck-E-Cheese.

As everyone used to say in those months after Sept. 11, that's why they hate us!

Why, no matter how frustrated we may get, being a parent is the best!!

2009-06-21T14:20:00.003-05:00

Nothing more needs to be said.

Summer's here and the time is right for......doing family things?

2009-06-17T06:11:00.036-05:00

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!).

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.

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 wooded 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 would 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.

An (almost) acquired taste

2009-06-09T21:04:00.009-05:00

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.

Dinners of the damned

2009-05-27T21:29:00.003-05:00

You hear a lot these days about layoffs and what they are doing to workplaces. Low morale, heavier workload on those left behind, survivor's guilt.

I can relate to the lowered morale and the heavier workload, but survivor's guilt? Sorry, can't go there. I've worked past midnight and every weekend and pretty much every holiday for too many years and am simply too exhausted by my schedule (and the fact that I haven't had a week off in nearly a year) to feel survivor's guilt.

Don't get me wrong -- I am very grateful to have a job at all in this economy, and I intend to do my best at that job as long as it is there for me. I have no choice -- our household depends on two incomes. But reading all these articles about post-layoff workplace issues has me wondering if those who write them have any clue what they're talking about.

Take the office refrigerator. Please.

No one ever seems to write about this, which is why I'm convinced that the layoff stories I read in newspapers are written by free-lancers who never actually set foot in a newsroom.

I've never been unfortunate enough to actually be at the office as co-workers are being told that their services will no longer be needed (one of the few good things about working nights is avoiding these scenes, which generally happen during "regular" hours). So I don't know exactly what people do in those minutes between the time they are informed of their layoff and the time they leave the building.

But I can tell you what they DON'T do -- they don't take their food out of the refrigerator.

The results are predictable, and when I read a Chicago Tribune article a couple of weeks ago about an office refrigerator whose fumes actually resulted in several people being hospitalized, it didn't take much for me to imagine how the situation had developed.

It's been more than two months since the last round of layoffs at my workplace -- and it was a huge round. So you know where this is going.

Yes, the food is still there, festering. No one wants to touch what one of my fellow night-shift workers refers to as the "Dinners of the Damned." And who can blame them? I'm certainly not volunteering for the task. And whoever was disgusted enough to post the aforementioned Chicago Tribune article in the kitchen area of our newsroom apparently didn't volunteer, either.

I haven't given a lot of thought to what I would do if I were laid off. It's unlikely I'd have what it takes to launch into one of those philosophical speeches that movies are made of, or to make a dramatic exit that is forever enshrined in newsroom lore.

I admire those who do make a memorable exit, though. Like one former co-worker who, on layoff day, got "the call" to please come up to the publisher's office. Sure, she said, I'll be right up. Rumor has it that she immediately headed there, where her supervisor and other bureaucratic types were waiting. But instead of taking a left and going up the stairs at the end of the hall, she took a right -- straight down the stairs, out to the parking lot and off into the sunset. (On behalf of beleaguered worker bees everywhere, here's to you, G.B.!)

I hope the layoff scenes are over. But if I should get the ax, you can bet I won't take long to pack my stuff. I won't scream, cry, throw a fit or launch into a soapbox rant about the disintegrating morals of corporate America. I'll probably just quietly fade away.

And I'll take my dinner with me.

What have you done for me lately?

2009-05-20T20:37:00.003-05:00

It's been awhile since our last post, so here is a quick up-to-the-moment report. Sarah still hates the hours of her job and is tired all the time. I'm still employed, but it is a struggle to earn what I did previously. And Elijah .... well, he's growing and making progress, sometimes in big steps, other times at a snail's pace, but still moving forward.

As an example of progress, he now greets other children and looks at them when he does it. This is a major breakthrough, and though it's not 100% of the time, it's often enough to, as Elijah puts it, "make Daddy very happy."

On another front, after a spill in some mud, the bike-riding was, to say the least, not a high priority. But the discovery of a bridge over a creek at a local park (we refer to it as "Goose Poop Park" as it has many deposits left by our feathered friends) had rekindled the excitement of riding. The routine is to ride to the swings, play on the equipment and ride back to the car, making both Daddy and Elijah very happy.

Along with all of the good, there have been some problems. "Blue's Clues" and its numbing song patterns have been, on some days, the only basis for Elijah's conversation. I guess I should be happy I haven't had him watch the Sopranos, as that rote speech would be difficult to explain to teachers and strangers. He also has mastered getting on the computer and going to a web site that has all sorts of speech and spelling games, turning up the volume full blast and clicking on the same icon over and over again. Again, I should be happy he hasn't discovered some of the web........no, I don't want to go there.

But what really has been happening around here is the marginalization of Mom. As Sarah has posted previously, Elijah has requested that "Mom go to work" and leave him to run amok due to Dad's lack of discipline. Be it going to the store, bike riding or just a walk around the block, Elijah has told Sarah, "Don't want Mommy to come with us. Just Elijah and Daddy." All this is in addition to Elijah's absolute consternation whenever Sarah goes to bed early, gets a good night's sleep and appears in the den during our morning routine (that would be Elijah having milk and a granola bar while sitting in a chair watching television, while I do the crossword puzzle). "WANT MOMMY TO GO BACK UPSTAIRS AND GO TO SLEEP" is the plea (command) which greets a blear- eyed Sarah as she sweetly says good morning. Talk about a tough crowd!

Other instances of his unappreciative nature: Whenever Sarah disciplines, him Elijah always responds the same way -- not with an apology but with a "Where's Daddy?" If we take two cars anywhere, it's always "Want to go with Daddy in the gray car" as opposed to riding with Mom (who is a much better driver). If it is one of the nights we are both at home, it's almost always Daddy he wants to be the one to read to him and put him to bed. And the list goes on and on.

Now I haven't installed a "nanny-cam," but I'm pretty sure Sarah isn't beating Elijah with a ruler, putting his feet in scalding water or forcing him to listen to '80s music, so why is our house a "Daddy's home"? My guess is that Daddy -- and Sarah will agree with this -- is just more fun than Mommy and allows the little tyke enough rope to hang the both of them until Mom gets home. As Sarah points out almost every time this topic comes up, I'm just a child of the '60s who doesn't believe in discipline, and I let the inmate run the asylum.

All I can say is yes, I am guilty, but the punishment of having my little boy saying "I love you so much, Daddy" is a whole lot better than lethal injection. I know I'm being played like a fine instrument, but I waited 50 years to be in the orchestra, and Mommy is a hell of a conductor.

Not-so-easy rider

2009-04-26T11:28:00.013-05:00

I must confess, I didn't think the Little Guy had it in him.

As I've noted before, Elijah is not exactly athletically inclined. Unlike most American parents, though, I'm fine with this. I can think of few things I enjoy less than watching team sports, and I certainly have better ways to spend the next decade and a half of Saturday mornings (and weekday evenings and Sunday afternoons) than schlepping my kid to a soccer field or baseball diamond or whatever to watch a bunch of overinvolved parents scream as their hyperscheduled kids chase after a ball.

But I'm a huge fan of fitness, and of unstructured play and being outdoors and running barefoot in the grass and getting knee scrapes and bug bites and maybe even the tiniest bit of a suntan.

And I'm a believer that being a kid in the summer should include bike riding. That's why, way back when Elijah turned 2, we dutifully purchased a classic red-and-white Radio Flyer tricycle. Better not wait any longer, we thought, because he's already big enough to wear it out in a single summer. And soon he'll be moving up to bicycles.

Anyone want a like-new Radio Flyer tricycle?

It's still sitting in our garage, this pristine piece of Americana. It's virtually unused, although finally, at age 5 1/2 or so, Elijah did actually get the hang of pedaling it.

Now that he's nearly 6, he at last seems to be enjoying wheeled toys (his made-for-toddlers scooter is his favorite). And he's been making progress on physical skills in general, which means we have arrived at what the developmental professionals would call a "teachable moment." This became obvious to me a few weeks ago at Target, when I pulled a small, training-wheel-equipped bike off the display rack and plopped it down in the middle of an aisle.

"Hey, Elijah, want to try?" I said in my highest-pitched, oh-honey-you'll-just-love-this mommy voice. (It's the same voice I use to try to get him to eat healthy food, which is why I wasn't expecting much in the way of a response.)

Never underestimate the speed at which a novice bicyclist can pedal down the aisle of a discount store. Stunned at the fact he could even stay upright, I caught up with him just before he would have knocked down a display of fully inflated beach balls.

I thought perhaps it was a fluke, but when we repeated virtually the same scene a week or two later in a Wal-Mart, it became clear that it was time to brave the bicycle world.

The story of how we came to purchase a top-notch bicycle for a relatively bargain-basement price is long enough for an entire blog post in itself, but I'll spare you. Let's just say it involved a dedicated daddy who shops the clearance sales, knows which stores stock which items and never neglects to use the coupons in the Entertainment guidebook. And it did NOT involve any discount stores (which is good, because we just might be on a list of banned customers after those in-store pedaling escapades!).

So the bottom line is this: We have achieved a bicycle as well as a little boy who is already enjoying it despite himself (in the presence of the bicycle, he goes through cycles of excitement and apprehension and fear and joy faster than those spokes can spin). And thanks to the fact that we live in an area laced with paved trails that go through woods and alongside fields and over creeks and to parks and school playgrounds and even swimming pools, I think we have this summer-fun thing in the bag.

Here are a few shots of Elijah's first time out on his new bike:

Getting started ...

On a roll ...

A decision looms as a fork in the path approaches ...

... and failure to navigate the turn leads to a tumble and tears.

Overall, though, it was a very happy day in the life of a little boy.

Is there any room left on the Susan Boyle bandwagon?

2009-04-20T13:57:00.005-05:00

If so, I'd like to squeeze on.

Usually, I'm skeptical of YouTube crazes, Internet celebrities and social networking fads (OK, yes, I did the "25 Things" meme on Facebook, but that's it. Honest). I haven't even signed on to Twitter yet, so I'm obviously not a jump-on-the-bandwagon person. (If you don't know what Twitter is, you will soon. Trust me on this.)

So when coworkers began buzzing about the Susan Boyle performance more than a week ago, I tuned it out. Exaggeration, I thought.

I was wrong. So please forgive me for being the 1 millionth (or is it 10 millionth?) blogger to post a link to this. You may well have already seen this, or at the very least, read about it. But I suspect there are maybe three or four regular readers of this blog who have not (I won't name names here, to protect the pop-culture innocent). Even Elijah was absolutely captivated, and I think it's safe to say that performances of music from "Les Miserables" by middle-aged women don't typically captivate 5-year-old boys.

So please, if you haven't yet seen Susan Boyle's performance on the April 11 broadcast of "Britain's Got Talent," click here. Read the article first, then watch the video.

It is one of the most uplifting things I have ever seen, and it will change your day. I promise.

This is just to say ...

2009-04-08T20:15:00.007-05:00

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast.

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold.

-- William Carlos Williams

If you ever sat through a high school English lit class, you probably remember that poem. And if you went on to a liberal arts college, you probably did everything you could to forget it after an hourlong deconstruction of it. (Short version: Three stanzas, 12 lines, imagist, concrete picture, deeper meaning, unanswered questions, sensory language, domestic relations, nature of forgiveness. See? I've just saved you thousands of dollars in tuition.)

I plead guilty to being one of the millions who rolled their eyes every time a WCW poem came up in class. Who cares who ate the plums in the icebox? And honestly, does so much depend upon a red wheelbarrow, glazed with rain water, beside the white chickens?

At the time, I thought not.

Over the years, though, I came to appreciate Williams' poetry. I chalked this up to maturity, to the deeper appreciation of language and imagery that comes with age. No one, I thought, really cared much about poetry in his youth.

Then came Elijah. And once again, I am forced to reconsider what I always assumed about little boys.

Yes, he's rambunctious, and fidgety, and often downright squirrely. Then, out of the blue, he'll stun me with a surprisingly sophisticated drawing or a request for me to read him poetry or to put on the HBO "Classical Baby" poetry show.

Which is how I came to find these on the refrigerator door one morning:

Don't those plums just look delicious?

So sweet, and so cold.

I was so much older then....but I'm even older now

2009-03-24T17:53:00.004-05:00

Who knew it was going to be today? I had always said that the day I walked around in shorts with black socks was the day that it would be time to put me in the retirement home. I thought with Elijah's birth I had bought a few more years, that keeping up with a toddler would somehow stop the aging process.

If I had been honest with myself I would have seen some of the warning signs. Hair sprouting wildly on my body everywhere but the top of my head. Cute 30-somethings saying how much I reminded them of their father. The fact that the only CDs I had bought the past few years were new releases of bands I had first heard in high school and college. (Of course, as Sarah pointed out, the idea of even buying CDs as opposed to downloading tunes shows how "out of it" I am.) Golfing with younger guys who, while complimenting me on a shot, used a voice I would have used years ago: the voice that may have said "nice shot," but really meant "let's tell the old guy how great it is he's even out here trying instead sitting at home drooling while watching "Dancing with the Stars." " Being out with Elijah and being told what a lovely grandchild I had.

But today was the day that I crossed the bridge to senility and couldn't get back. I had lost our iPod (without Sarah's prompting I still would be using a Walkman) at our gym, but was ecstatic when I found out that someone had turned one in and it appeared to be ours. When I got it a couple of days later (it was locked in a safe for the weekend) I tried to use it, but it wouldn't stay on. I took it home, looked at the manual and discovered that someone had locked it. I tried a variety of ways to unlock it, but none were successful. After reconfiguring it for the third time, and still having no success, I took it to the Apple store by my office.

When I explained to the employee (who looked all of 15) what had happened and how I couldn't get the iPod unlocked, he calmly looked at the bottom, pushed a switch, and presto, got it done. The conversation after this modern miracle went as follows:

"What did you do?"

"I moved the switch on the bottom to unlock. See, red means locked, green means unlocked. So I just pushed this switch here."

He said this to me with a look of pity that said, Old man, why don't you stick with one of those transistor radios with the single earplug and leave anything more modern than that to us.

I thanked him and left, happy that my iPod I thought was at first lost and then broken, was neither. I also knew that I would no doubt be the topic of conversation (ridicule?) for the employees that night -- the old guy who couldn't figure out how to use the button on the bottom of his iPod.

"Do you think he still has cassettes?"

"Cassettes? He probably has one of those 8-tracks my grandparents talk about."

Well, let them have their fun. While they're obsessing over the latest version of the iPhone, I will be working out to Bruce, the Stones, Bowie, the Beatles and any other golden oldie I have on my iPod that given day, making sure I have the strength and stamina to keep up with my 5-year-old bundle of energy.

The one who thinks his daddy can fix anything.

Comments, please!

2009-03-23T12:30:00.002-05:00

Ever have one of those days where sitting at the computer is the only thing you have enough energy to do? This is one of those days for me, so I took the time to change some of the settings on this blog regarding the posting of comments. It has come to my attention that I actually have several readers who are NOT my dear friend Natalie in Florida, who to date appears to be the only person who has ever posted a comment here.

It turns out that's because blogger novice (me) had the comment settings restricted in such a way that only people with an account on this same blog service (like Natalie) could post. That eliminated all of you who so nicely have humored me by saying that you really, really have wanted to post comments but couldn't.

So now we'll just see how much you really want to comment! (Thought you'd never get called on that one, huh?!)

I'm stuck at home today with a miserably ill Elijah. But I'm thankful that he waited to get sick until AFTER Sunday's beautiful family afternoon of kite-flying at an urban park not far from here. I blame his tummy troubles on the hideous Tweety-Bird-shaped concoction obtained from one of those ice cream trucks that always seem to be driven by illegal aliens or convicted felons. You'd think the relentless aural assault of distorted speakers playing a calliope version of "Turkey in the Straw" over and over -- without ever actually reaching the chorus -- would be enough to send anyone fleeing back to Mexico or prison. But apparently not.

I'll post some new photos soon -- perhaps even photos of the sickly-sweet melting Tweety-Bird episode. That's just a heads-up for you squeamish types and you health-nut types. It's not pretty.

Here comes Trouble

2009-03-20T13:44:00.004-05:00

Whew. What a week it's been.

I still have a job, which is more than many of my (now-former) co-workers can say. Monday's payroll blood-letting was brutal -- we're now down to approximately half the staff we had a little over a year ago -- and confusing. I thought I had lost my capacity to be stunned, but I was wrong. Some of the most versatile (and therefore valuable) employees were cut, as were some part-time (and therefore cheap) employees. So again, there appears to be no rhyme or reason to the decisions.

But I survived, and my schedule henceforth will look something like this:
4 p.m. to midnight Mondays.
Off Tuesdays and Wednesdays.
5:30 p.m. or so until whenever we're finished on Thursdays. Hopefully before midnight.
Off Fridays.
4 p.m. to midnight Saturdays
4 p.m. to midnight Sundays

It's starting to feel less and less like a part-time schedule, and more and more exhausting. Until now I've gotten a three-day block of time off every week, which sort of feels like a mini-vacation, and so I haven't really minded the fact that I get no paid days off and therefore can't take any time off other than those three days each week. (Haven't done so since going part-time in August).

I think the thing that will finally get to me is the fact that for the foreseeable future, Jeff and I will have NO days off together, ever. Up until now I've had Mondays off, which means that whenever one of those Monday holidays rolls around, we can all spend the day together as a family. I'm pretty zonked from having worked the three previous nights until midnight, but still, it's nice to go to the park, or the zoo, or wherever and not have to worry about making it to the office by 4. Granted, there are only four of these family days in an entire calendar year -- Martin Luther King Day, President's Day, Memorial Day and Labor Day -- but oh, how I looked forward to them. So much for that.

I'll stop complaining now, because at least I do still have a job. It's going to be far more stressful because we are each taking on so many added responsibilities, but there will be enough money coming in to pay the mortgage and all the routine bills. At this point in the recession, that's enough.

So on to our other news: Elijah is just completing his first week ever of being away from home all day! He's at something called Spring Break Adventure Camp at our fitness center, which as far as I can tell consists of a group of teenagers and 20-somethings leading a bunch of 5- through 12-year-olds through a day of games, swimming, rock-wall climbing and arts and crafts while trying to maintain their own sanity. (I couldn't do it.)

At first I was really hesitant about sending him, because he's so different from other kids and I feared that he would be teased and bullied and scared and lonely -- all the things most moms worry about, but which I amplify through the magnifying glass that is autism.

It appears my worries were, for the most part, unfounded. Although he has mostly stayed to himself (OK, yes, I've checked in on him each day!), he doesn't at all mind sitting and coloring while other kids play basketball and field hockey and whatnot.

He even has a little hanger-on who rarely seems to leave his side. That would be Will, a precocious little guy who actually looks much younger than 5, which is the cutoff age for this camp. Elijah had told me one evening, after my usual round of questioning in an attempt to get even one word out of him about his day, that one of the other kids at camp was named "Will." This was the only name he could come up with, and I was skeptical.

But he turned out to be right. When I checked in on him the next day, sitting off to the side of the gym coloring with another little boy sitting beside him, I walked up and asked Elijah how he was doing.

"He's fine," chirped the little boy.

"Hi!" I said. "What's your name?"

"I'm Will," was the reply. "I like to color."

"Do you know Elijah?" I asked.

"I know he's TROUBLE!!!" Will exclaimed.

I was a bit taken aback, and was beginning to wonder when Elijah was going to look up and at least acknowledge that he had just been defamed, when Will launched into his explanation of "trouble."

"He goes over THERE," (pointing to one corner of the gym), "when we are supposed to go HERE!" (pointing to another corner). His eyes grew big with excitement as he related this tale of anarchy. "He's TROUBLE!"

I tried not to laugh, but it was hard. Yes, Elijah does tend to zig when other children zag. Usually it's not a problem, as long as there are enough adults around to redirect him. Or to put his swim trunks back on when he decides he's had enough of the pool and strips butt-naked right there in front of everyone (that would be Tuesday's version of Trouble). I would think THAT would have made more of an impression on young Will, but no. It was the going-to-the-wrong-corner episode that really marked Elijah as Trouble.

Today is the final day of camp, which will be a relief, no doubt, to the wonderfully patient staffers who have led Elijah from one activity to another all week long, with Will never far away. It marks a big milestone for Elijah, who never seemed interested in coming home early even though his worried mom made the offer nearly every day. It also marks a big milestone for me, because I've finally been able to let him be with strangers in a child-care setting all day long.

Next stop, kindergarten! It's just 5 months away. Perhaps I should warn the teachers now to watch out, because Trouble is coming.

Woe is not me -- yet

2009-03-10T10:44:00.005-05:00

OK, so it's been awhile. I haven't subjected any of you to my ramblings lately because, well, I can't think of anything new to ramble about. Which is good, because I have finally reached the age where the phrase "no news is good news" actually makes sense.

But the thing is, there's always news. This week's news is that I have started taking what is likely to be a long list of classes to upgrade my skills in preparation for a new career. I'll admit that I put this off for a long time, not because I didn't want to go back to school, but because I hate having only one night a week at home. (Elijah doesn't mind it at all, given that any night Mom's gone means he gets to eat dinner in the den with Dad and make all sorts of disgusting bodily noises. Mom tends to take all the fun out of things with her insistence on sitting at the table and not belching. Or worse.)

So now I'm taking an HTML/XHTML/CSS class on Monday and Tuesday nights, then working Thursday nights through Sunday nights. With any luck, I'll develop enough skills in Web site architecture that I can go into the underlying code for this blog and make some changes to the template, such as getting the title to be in proper uppercase and lowercase letters (those trendy all-lowercase things drive me insane.).

More importantly, of course, is the fact that I'm in the job market, which, as you may have heard, is not a real great place to be right now. I technically still have a job, although it could evaporate this week or next. (Yes, it's layoff time again -- the fifth round of layoffs/buyouts at my company in the past 14 months.)

Got a fork? Stick it in some newspapers. They're done.

So I'm trying to keep in mind the GOOD things about a likely job loss. For me, it means eight hours of sleep a night. No more getting home from a commute downtown at 12:30 or 1 a.m. No more going to work on Friday nights, Saturday nights, Sunday nights, holidays, 52 weeks a year. No more snapping at Elijah because I'm exhausted. Mondays are especially bad, which doesn't bode well for learning computer code from 6 til 9:30 on Monday nights.

If you happen to be someone I work with -- or one of my bosses (yeah, I know I sent you an e-mail from home and forgot to delete the link to this blog in the tagline), please keep in mind that I do not WANT to be laid off. If given the option, I'd probably stay til the ship goes down, simply because I'm a stay-til-the-ship-goes-down kind of gal. (Plus, so far I haven't been able to find another job.)

Sorry for the cliche (the kind of thing I get paid to take OUT of other people's writing), but the ship is indeed going down -- you know it as well as I do.

I thought about posting a bunch of links here to various articles and blogs about my industry's demise, but those of you who care probably have already read all you can stand to read about it. I'm just hoping I hear about any layoff involving me BEFORE my name gets posted on one of them. That's a lousy way to learn about your job loss, although only slightly lousier than getting the news in an e-mail, which seems to be a growing trend.

I will say that I understand why no one wants to read newspapers anymore. Nobody sums the reasons better than Will Bunch on the Huffington Post site. Click on that, read it and watch the Jon Stewart video. It's a scream.

And sometimes, screaming is all you can do.

Everyday is Valentine's Day....and Christmas, and Chanukah too

2009-03-07T07:10:00.006-06:00

Without question, Elijah is one happy little rug rat. Giggles and laughter are his most often-used communicative skills, and his sheer delight at the mundane always brings a smile to my face. Of course, if I thought every day was a holiday, any black cloud above my head would disappear, too.

As previous posts have noted, Elijah "got it" this holiday season. From writing to Santa and the decorating of the tree, to the lighting of the menorah, he was into the holiday spirit. And, as we approach the dawn of spring, the spirit hasn't left him. From the creation of his own "Candy Cane Lane" in our kitchen to his self-reassurances that "Santa will bring (fill in the blank with, among other things, basketball goals, markers, M & M's) tomorrow", Christmas is still here.

He also has continued to read his Blue's Clues Chanukah book on a daily basis and just this week created his own Hebrew lettering.

Though it was almost a month ago, Valentine's Day still reigns for Elijah. He constantly writes it on a variety of drawings and loves to draw hearts and flowers. At least he isn't still chasing down and hugging all the little girls at the child center of our health club, a behavior that caused Sarah's workout to be cut short as she was paged to pick up our young Casanova and leave.

So we will continue to celebrate here at the house and keep all the holiday joy and happiness a year-round affair. And when the heat and humidity of August force us inside, we will watch over and over again the video Elijah asked to see last year at that time: "How the Grinch Stole Christmas."

Eric Clapton's nightmare

2009-03-03T06:39:00.005-06:00

Perhaps inspired by Punk Rock legend Iggy Pop, the Sports Illustrated swimsuit models or just dreaming about summer weather, Elijah drew this picture yesterday. When asked what it was, he replied in a matter-of-fact voice "naked man playing guitar."

Duh, Dad.

What kind of sports are you illustrating?

2009-02-25T19:52:00.003-06:00

Every year that line, or something very similar to it, is found in the letters column of Sports Illustrated in regard to the annual swimsuit issue. For those of you who have never seen this particular issue, the models are beyond gorgeous, the locales are exotic and beautiful, and the suits are from the minimalist wing of the fashion world. In fact, there is more material in Elijah's Thomas the Train underwear than in most of the bikinis featured. (Not that there is anything wrong with that.)

Either I'm getting older or more realistic, but when I get this issue I usually peruse it pretty quickly and then forget about it. This year was no exception, and it was collecting dust on an end table in our den when Elijah discovered it.

As he looked through the magazine, I wondered what would get his attention. The models? The pictures of the beaches? The ads? Well, I got my answer the next day when he drew his interpretation of Bar Refaeli and her co-models:

English as a foreign language

2009-02-15T11:01:00.002-06:00

From the mouths of babes -- or, in our case, 5-year-olds with the language weaknesses of autism combined with a complete misunderstanding of the retail economy:

"Mom, Elijah wants to go to Target and borrow a basketball goal as soon as you get with some money."

Here's to getting with some money!

A day in the life

2009-02-12T15:03:00.009-06:00

You hear a lot these days about the plight of the unemployed. Not to minimize what they are going through -- after all, it's beginning to look like we'll all be there eventually -- but what about the plight of the fearing-they'll-soon-be unemployed? Particularly those who are married to a fellow member of that tribe?

Jeff and I both work in recession-eviscerated industries, so worrying about the future is not merely an intellectual exercise in our house. It's an all-out obsession, and it has a disturbing way of weaving itself in and out of virtually every moment of the day.

Think I'm exaggerating? Then pour yourself a cup of coffee, settle in for a spell and take a look at a typical day in my life. This is a day when I am off work, in recognition of the fact that soon, "off work" may be my default condition.

(Yes, this is nauseatingly self-absorbed. That's what you get for reading a blog.)

A Day in the Life of the Tenuously Employed

5:45 a.m.: Groan at the sound of bedroom door opening, knowing I'll never get back to sleep. The resident 5-year-old does not suffer fools who stay in bed past 6 a.m. (It's like having a cat, only with college tuition looming in the future.)

7:15: Finally give up on getting back to sleep, and go downstairs to what, in retrospect, will be the most satisfying part of the day: Curling up on the sofa with a strong cup of coffee and the newspaper. Please note the importance of an actual newspaper, not the Internet, in the Most Satisfying Part of the Day.

8: Begin the process of getting the child fed, toothbrushed, dressed, strapped into car seat and delivered to preschool, in what will later prove to have been the most productive 45 minutes of the day.

8:50: Upon returning home, do a quick check of industry blogs in an effort to determine whether I have been laid off. This sounds absurd, but trust me, it is not.

9:10: After 20 minutes spent scouring industry blogs with unsettling minute-by-minute announcements of job cuts and furloughs at newspapers nationwide, decide to check locally based blogs for information on my specific employer. Feel a strong need to shower afterward.

9:20: After a total of 30 minutes spent on various blogs with the result of finding about five minutes' worth of useful information, decide to access work e-mail to see if any official news on today's rumored layoffs has been disseminated. None has.

9:30: Convince myself that a quick check of Facebook actually constitutes a productive use of my time. Networking, you know.

10:00: Finally finish reading various friends' "25 Random Things" lists, all the while patting myself on the back for the fact that my own "Random Things" list is far more witty and erudite than theirs.

10:01: Realize that I have just associated the words "witty" and "erudite" with the "Random Things" fad, and feel a moment of shame. Then I recall this fad's true value: the spawning of countless spoofs -- many of which are, indeed, witty and erudite. Click here for a good one.

10:02: Realize that I have 28 minutes to get to my son's preschool Valentine's Day party, for which I have been assigned to bring "healthy snacks," as opposed to "fun snacks." This further verifies my status as World's Least-Fun Mom.

10:28: While dashing out the door with aforementioned healthy snacks in hand, recall reading somewhere that careers in education are considered among the most recession-proof.

10:30: Shortly before entering classroom, begin to consider a career change to early childhood education.

10:31: Rethink career change to early childhood education.

10:35: Completely abandon plans for career change to early childhood education.

11:30: Arrive home with sugar-crazed 5-year-old and a week's supply of sweet treats. Begin lunch process, which boils down to fixing, coaxing, threatening, bribing and cleanup.

12:15: Check industry blogs yet again. Read much talk of plans for unpaid furloughs industry-wide.

12:20: Contemplate the phrase "rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic." Wonder if anyone actually did this. Don't recall seeing it in the movie.

12:25: Take time to appreciate the value of the Titanic in providing a framework for countless analogies throughout the remainder of the 20th century and into the 21st. Recall headline in "history" book by the great folks at The Onion: "World's Largest Metaphor Hits Ice-berg."

12:30: Realize that only 30 minutes past noon, I have already spent far more time online today than reading the newspaper.

12:31: Perish the thought.

12:35: Spend several minutes contemplating how much garish wallpaper I could remove from my home on a furlough week. Realize that at my home-improvement rate, very little would actually get done. But if I'm laid off until the economy is expected to turn around (fourth quarter of 2010), I might get the downstairs bathroom and the dining room finished.

12:45: Load child into car and head to Very Large Upscale Health Club that I really can't afford but belong to anyway.

2:00: Notice, not for the first time, the number of working-age men at the club in the middle of a weekday afternoon. Can't help but wonder how many of them are here because they have recently lost their jobs.

2:05: Vow to myself not to continue paying Very Large Upscale Health Club membership if anyone in my house loses a job.

2:15: While on cardio machines, read Time magazine cover story on the dire situation in the newspaper industry. Note that it bears a strong resemblance to the Newsweek cover story of two weeks earlier.

2:30: Tired of reading this, look up to the big-screen TV and notice layoff numbers marching across the scroll bar on the bottom of the screen.

2:45: Return home and resist urge to check blogs and work e-mail yet again.

3:30: Notice neighbors gathering outside on an unusually nice winter's day and decide to join them.

3:31: Am immediately asked if I still have a job. Am told that wow, the Internet must really be killing newspapers.

3:32: Explain, for the umpteen millionth time, that newspapers have more readers than ever. After all, they have some of the most-read Web sites out there. The problem is that revenue is plummeting because of the wider economy, which is wiping big advertisers off the map and also reducing the incentive for the surviving competitors to advertise. Circuit City, rest in peace. Linens-N-Things, we hardly knew ye.

3:35: Also, ill-advised corporate mergers resulting in billions of dollars of debt don't help.

4:30: Neighbor who happens to be a bankruptcy attorney joins the conversation.

4:45: After describing the potentially dire situation that could arise in our household this year, discover that my Plan A for keeping the house is not a good one. But walk away with a workable Plan B which I will not repeat here. (Attorney-client privilege, you know.)

5: Launch into the three-hour dinner-playtime-bathtime-storytime-bedtime routine. Manage to not think about layoffs for the entire three hours.

8: Sit down to watch last night's recording of the Daily Show. Jon Stewart's guest is the guy who wrote the Time article on the death of newspapers.

8:15: Curse myself for waiting until this spring to take a community college course updating my skills for a digital age, instead of taking it last year.

9: Start getting ready for bed. Have not checked blogs or e-mail in hours, and am very proud of myself.

10: Watch beginning of newscast that reports the disappearance of a 5-year-old Florida girl who was last seen when she went to bed several nights ago. Cannot keep myself from tiptoeing upstairs to check on my own 5-year-old. He is there. Economy seems to be losing its importance.

10:15: Flipping through the channels, come across a documentary about life for women and children in tribal regions of Afghanistan controlled by the Taliban. Am reminded of another recent documentary about life in sub-Saharan Africa. Beginning to feel a bit foolish about obsessing over paying the bills in my cushy suburban American home.

10:30: Reading a magazine in bed, come across article on parents whose children who were swept away by the Indian Ocean tsunami in 2004.

10:35: Have completely let go of my misplaced concern about a layoff that hasn't yet happened and the mortgage on a house that represents more luxury than many people in the world can even imagine.

10:36: Drift off to sleep, hoping to remain asleep until the 5:45 wakeup call.

Because that's when this whole day starts over again.

Another Milestone

2009-02-08T20:32:00.007-06:00

Barely a month into the new year, Elijah reached a new milestone: having strangers give his dad a dirty look because his 5-year-old uttered an "expletive deleted" in a public place.

Both Sarah and I knew this was going to occur sooner rather than later, as he has been walking around the house saying "God dammit" for a couple of days now -- not in anger, just as part of his everyday conversation. Since Sarah and I blame each other for teaching Elijah his latest catchphrase (she claims her cussing is not nearly that mild, and I have a selective memory about any cursing I might do around our child), we asked where he had heard such a thing. His response was neither Mom nor Dad, but that purveyor of vile language, Scooby-Doo.

Now I'll admit that cartoons have gotten a little more risque since my youth, but I doubt that any of the gang, while trying to solve some mystery, got frustrated and said the magic words.

Sarah and I let it slide, and today, while in our local market, it came back to bite us. Or, rather, me, since Sarah was safely at work. I had told Elijah to stay by the shopping cart about ten times already and was beginning to lose my patience. Needing to get just one more item, I told him again, in a stern voice, to stand by the cart and not to move. As I walked away he said, to no one in particular -- and, I might add, in a very cheerful voice -- "God dammit ... God dammit," which caught the ear of a woman standing in the aisle.

If looks could kill, I would have been dead. She just stared at me as if I was not only the worst parent in the world, but should be hauled away by social services immediately. I wanted to walk right up to her, look her square in the eye and say, "Don't blame me. It's all Shaggy's fault."

Meme....Tootoo

2009-02-07T07:21:00.004-06:00

Since I have now seen at least one story every day this week on the phenomenon "25 Things" I feel a need to get my list done before this fad goes the way of the pet rock. (See, Sarah, I will get it done before the end of the month!)

So here goes:

1. I have never seen a single episode of "West Wing," "Everyone Loves Raymond" or "CSI," but have watched countless infomercials from beginning to end.
2. Growing up in Los Angeles, I thought I could never live anywhere else. Now, I can't even fathom raising my child there.
3. I used to love pets, but now every time my son gets near a dog or cat, I fear something bad is going to happen.
4. Because of my back surgery, I have been unable to play racquetball for the last 7 years, the one sport I was pretty good at.
5. Speaking of sports, one that I'm mediocre at, golf, gives me great pleasure. This is especially true when I hit that one great shot during a round and feel I'm ready for the Seniors Tour.
6. I have never played on a Wii or XBox, but still have my "Intellivison" games, whose graphics are one step above "Pong."
7. I truly value my friends, most of whom I've known for over forty years.
8. Although I go to High Holiday services, the only time I went to Temple on a regular basis was during my divorce.
9. Unfortunately, I have a tendency to hit stationary objects while driving. ... Thankfully, none are living, breathing creatures.
10. During my senior year in college, I once bought a term paper, which I then rewrote. I was so ashamed of this that I asked the person to make it average, at best. His response. ..."Dude, it's the same price for an A or a C."
11. I once wrote a script for the show "Cheers" that got, through connections, to the head writer. He called me, told me he enjoyed the script and invited me to watch an episode being filmed. When we met he told me that I should keep at it, that I had a talent for comedic writing. Almost twenty years later, I'm still working on my second script.
12. I don't follow through on things as often as I should.
13. One of my greatest regrets is that when I was at UCLA, a director asked me to audition for a play and I was too scared to show up. Who knows -- it could have been me saying "The plane! the plane!".
14. I didn't speak with my sister for over a year, but now we talk at least a few times a month and her advice and wisdom is something I not only seek but cherish.
15. I always wanted to have the latest in stereo equipment, but due to other expenses, my system today would be called "retro" at best. On the bright side, I did get an iPOD last year and finally put away my Walkman.
16. Most people consider me extremely open, yet I do keep some things to myself and some emotions hidden, even from my closest friend, Sarah.
17. If I'm flipping through the channels and I see that "The Godfather" I or II is on, I will watch them.
18. I've been on three game shows, and like Weird Al Yankovic, I lost on "Jeopardy."
19. I grew up in a loving family that took trips together every year and parents that were involved and concerned in their children's lives. It wasn't until much later in life I realized all families weren't that way.
20. As a child, I could play board games by myself for hours upon hours.
21. My love of rock 'n roll is matched only by my complete lack of musical ability.
22. Although I have traveled all over the world, I have a fear of flying. Oddly, that fear evaporates when I fly with Elijah.
23. When I was younger, my life was more like Ozzy Osborne's. It is now more like Ozzie Nelson's.
24. Once on a childhood vacation with my family, I insisted on, and ate, hamburgers for eight of our nine meals. (One night we went to a Chinese restaurant.) I wonder where Elijah gets his finicky eating habits?
25. When Sarah told me she was pregnant, I jumped into the air and had a smile from ear to ear. With all that has happened over the last five years -- the good and bad -- the smile has only gotten wider.

Meme memories

2009-02-03T21:01:00.006-06:00

So I finally gave in and participated in a meme. I was tagged by several friends on Facebook, and the peer pressure finally got to me. (If you're over the age of 60, you may have no idea what a meme is or what Facebook is, but don't worry. You, too, will eventually be sucked in by the online social networking gravitational pull. Resistance is futile.)

Anyway, this particular meme (think of them as chain letters) involves writing 25 things about yourself and passing them on to a bunch of friends, who then write 25 things about themselves, and so it goes, until everyone with an Internet connection has been cornered with demands for their own 25 Things list. It's not one of those that requires you to answer specific questions -- I hate those and never participate in them. But I really enjoyed reading the various responses to this one, because it's open-ended. And I learned a lot of fascinating things about people I've known for decades.

So I thought I'd post mine here because, well, what is blogging all about, if not self-absorption? And because most of my family is not on Facebook. (Get with the program, Mom and Dad!)

Jeff is planning to do this too, but whereas I spent all of 25 minutes on mine, for an average of one minute per entry, he apparently is on the one-day-per-entry writing schedule. So you can expect to see his about the end of February.

Here are my 25 things:

1. I lived in the same town for the first 18 years of my life. The nearest actual traffic signal was 20 miles away. Population: 2,000
2. Because of this, I had no idea until I went to college that you could turn right on red.
3. At age 20 I quit college and ran off with my boyfriend to live in Los Angeles. Metropolitan area population: 14 million.
4. I feel equally at ease in towns of 2,000 or 14 million.
5. I can't start my day without coffee and a newspaper.
6. I went to graduate school and earned a master's degree for no real reason other than I was bored and needed a challenge. (Obviously, this was pre-motherhood).
7. My only child has autism but is one of the sweetest kids you're likely to find.
8. It never even occurred to me to get married until I was 30.
9. I get gripey on any day that I don't do yoga.
10. I moved to the city I currently live in simply because I wanted to learn figure skating and there was no rink in the city I lived in at the time. I did indeed learn, and got pretty good at it!
11. One of the most fun times I've ever had on New Year's Eve was in that little town where I grew up, when I spent the evening with a few close friends.
12. One of the most boring times I've ever had on New Year's Eve was in London, when I spent the evening with thousands of strangers.
13. I met my husband online in 1994, when half of America had never even heard of e-mail.
14. I have lived in a total of only three states but have traveled to at least 40.
15. I'm agnostic. But I love Christmas and always celebrate Chanukah with my husband and our little boy.
16. I once was a volunteer literacy tutor for a woman who was 40 and couldn't read. Her life really opened my eyes to a segment of society I only vaguely knew existed.
17. A group of girlfriends and I once met some charming French guys when we were crossing the English Channel and made arrangements to meet them a few nights later in Paris. Being Americans, we figured they were just like American guys and wouldn't show up (sorry, guys), so we went out on the town that night and later found out that they had come to our hotel, all dressed up to take us out. This was more than 20 years ago, and I STILL feel single-handedly responsible for the Ugly American stereotype.
18. Speaking of Ugly Americans, I've always been really ashamed that I speak only one language.
19. I have no idea how much I weigh. And don't care.
20. I love working out and do so on a regular basis, but you wouldn't know it from looking at me.
21. I hate pretentious people and go out of my way to avoid buying anything with a designer label.
22. While I have no interest in other women's cars or clothes or jewelry, I get insanely jealous of women who have toned upper arms. (While everyone else was admiring Michelle Obama's gown on inauguration night, I was admiring her biceps.)
23. I have been in potentially life-threatening medical situations twice in my life: Once when I was dragged beneath a car at age 8 and once when I was giving birth at age 36.
24. I could live the rest of my life without television or movies, but not without books.
25. I choose to look at age-related body changes as evidence of all the good things I've experienced in life. Those brown spots on my arms? They remind me of all those childhood summers I spent riding ponies on my grandpa's farm. That extra flab around my waist? All that gelato I ate in Italy! And a bit of cellulite where my tummy was all stretched out a few years ago? That's my greatest gift of all: My little boy.

Sign o' the Times

2009-01-31T09:59:00.005-06:00

As has been mentioned previously, Elijah is not the greatest of oral communicators. So, to compensate for this shortcoming, he has developed a way of expressing what he wants -- the written word. Normally this consists of requests for food, but he now uses this method to inform us of places he wants to go or things he wants to do.

Last night Elijah brought me a note requesting that we go outside (it was a mere 20 degrees) and play a certain game. Posted below you will find the communique by our little guy, whose spelling of a certain lawn game certainly makes sense to me.

The cult of the Snuggie

2009-01-28T12:18:00.003-06:00

I won't even try to make this a real blog posting. That's because the defining blog post on this topic has already been written and is becoming a hit of its own.

It's by a guy who's technically a co-worker of mine, although I've never met him. He's a great writer. (But rumor has it that he does need copy editors, so if you're one of my bosses, keep this in mind when the next round of job cuts takes shape: YOUR BEST WRITERS STILL NEED COPY EDITORS. And not copy editors in Bangalore. Thank you for your time.)

So, without further rambling..... the Internet's greatest analysis of "The Blanket With Sleeves": http://joeposnanski.com/JoeBlog/2009/01/07/snuggies/

Example #6874 of what being the parent of toddler means...

2009-01-22T20:39:00.006-06:00

Number of Oscar nominated "Best Picture" movies I've seen this past year......ZERO

Number of Oscar nominated "Best Animated Feature Films" I've seen.....EVERY ONE

As well as: Horton Hears a Who, Fly Me to the Moon and one other one about penguins I can't remember.
Thank God for DVDs and HBO!

Say what?!

2009-01-21T10:34:00.009-06:00

I'm an Obama fan. I'm also a newspaper fan and a yoga fan and a coffee fan. BIG TIME coffee fan. Fandom is all the rage these days, as anyone who spends time on Facebook can attest.

That's why I'm thinking of starting a Facebook group devoted to the alphabet (come to think of it, one probably already exists). That way, Elijah will have an online community as soon as he gets old enough to care about the world of online social networking. (He's not there yet, but only because he's developmentally delayed. I'm certain there are many 5-year-olds out there with an entire world of online friends.)

Elijah's love for the ABC's stretches back to his infancy, before Jeff or I had heard the word "hyperlexia." It was the Little Guy's all-consuming passion (until he started noticing basketball goals). He had several alphabet sets -- a refrigerator magnet set, a wooden block set, other wooden cut-out sets, a foam set, etc. While typical 18-month-olds were playing with dolls and trucks, he was arranging his ABC's in the proper order. While typical 2-year-olds were cuddling up to their teddy bears at night, he was insisting on taking his wooden letters to bed with him, and he'd snuggle up to them as if they were the softest silk imaginable. You get the picture.

Along with his love for all things alphabet-related came a love for spelling out words. He's always gotten a big kick out of the fact that he can spell something out and then Mom and Dad can actually READ it! This is very exciting for a child who has trouble with spoken language -- it's by far the easiest way he can communicate. So during his toddlerhood, he delighted in spelling out various messages on tabletops throughout the house:

Unbelievable, indeed!

Like I mentioned earlier, I'm a big fan of coffee .... just passing it down to the next generation!

Over the years he has graduated to writing, but every once in a while he still wants one of his alphabet sets. A few days ago, he came running into the den demanding to know where a particular set was. It was his foam set, which I told him was down in the basement. I must confess I've never paid much attention to how he pronounces the word "foam," but when I went down to the basement a few minutes later, it became apparent that "foam" wasn't what he'd been calling them all along (note the label he spelled out at the top):

I had to laugh, because, well, phone letters ARE all uppercase, at least on most phone keypads I've ever seen.

This incident got me wondering about all the things I might have mis-heard as a child. I'm sure there were some doozies -- listening carefully never really was my strong suit. I remember one in particular, which came to mind recently because of turmoil halfway around the globe.

I was about 5 when terrorists struck at the 1972 Munich Olympics -- a major news event that I somehow managed to grow up completely ignorant of. I was 30 when Jeff and I were at the local Jewish Community Center and happened to pass by a display honoring the Israeli athletes who were murdered at that Olympics. For Jeff, who's Jewish and 12 years older than me, it was a watershed historical event. For me, it was .... "The what attack? What Munich Olympics? Huh?" (Thanks for marrying me anyway, honey!) All I have to say in my defense is this: I grew up in the rural Ozarks, where the history of Arab-Israeli relations was not a focus of our formal education (But we watched classroom films about rifle and hunting safety! True story!). So give me a break, OK?

Anyway, I'm thinking it must have been during the TV news coverage of that time that I mis-heard a phrase that makes Elijah's "phone letters" look perfectly rational.

Back then, politically motivated killers weren't called "terrorists." They were called "guerrillas." So the phrase "Palestinian guerrillas" was all over the place, and it really had me confused.

I just couldn't figure out what a bunch of gorillas were doing living in a palace.

With Indians.

Don't Stop Believing....It will show up again

2009-01-14T19:54:00.006-06:00

The first time I ever saw MTV was at my sister's home in Tucson. Cable wasn't yet available where I lived, and I thought how cool it was to be able to watch videos by bands (many of them were live performances) 24 hours a day. (Remember, this was the early days of MTV, when all they did play was videos; vapid thoughts expressed by GenXers living in a house together was still years away.)

There was only one problem....there weren't a lot of videos in the rotation, and the really interesting ones were shown sparingly. This meant sitting through countless live performances of Journey songs and "Jack and Diane" to see Springsteen's "Rosalita" on the few days it would appear. For those of you who collected baseball cards, it was like buying ten packs, opening them up and finding one Sandy Koufax among the twenty Don Mossis.

I bring all of this up because I am having the same experience again. As a previous post noted, "Oswald" has become Elijah's favorite show, and with the help of our DVR (and the master list I created) he can view whatever episode he likes -- with one exception. When he first discovered the show (it followed another previous favorite of his "Lazy Town"... and don't get me started on how bizarre that show is!) there was a storyline about digging in the sand at the beach and creating caves. It made such an impression on Elijah that he has asked to see it almost every day.

Unfortunately, that viewing was before we were hooked up with the DVR, so I didn't record it. No problem, you say: With only 30 episodes in the series, just record it when it plays again.

Well, there IS a problem. Over the last three months I have recorded for Elijah 29 "Oswald" episodes, of which some have played at least four times; yet the "At the Beach" show has disappeared completely.

I know this happens in television all the time. For whatever reason, a particular program from a series will be pulled, either due to content or quality, and never seen again until the DVD is released. (An "X-Files" episode involving incest and an SNL hosted by Milton Berle are two examples). But this is a cartoon about an OCTOPUS, for goodness' sake. Each day I record the three episodes on Noggin, and each day it's three of the 29 we already have. It's like I'm back in Arizona waiting to see the Stones and Steve Perry keeps on singing, and singing, and singing. Maybe they're holding it back for the "Director's Cut" release on DVD.

Eat Pray Hate

2009-01-06T10:03:00.007-06:00

I love reading. I'm one of those people who would rather curl up with a good book than go to a movie, have a night out on the town or watch television. (If it were not for television's vital role in keeping Elijah occupied while I read the newspaper each morning, I'd be perfectly happy if we didn't even own one.)

So it goes without saying that I will read virtually any book that lands in my lap.

The problem is that a lot of crap lands in my lap. And much of it is straight off the best-seller list.

This is no surprise to the literary crowd, most of whom would not be caught dead reading a best-seller (or anything that included cliches like "would not be caught dead.") But I'm not part of the literary crowd, either by training or association. So I just bumble my way through bookstores and libraries, grabbing titles that look interesting or have been filed away in my brain after I read a review.

And so it is that I recently read, back to back, two books whose very juxtaposition in my reading lineup was startling, and insightful.

The books are "Eat Pray Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert and "Infidel" by Ayaan Hirsi Ali. Both made the New York Times best-seller list, for whatever that's worth. But the similarities end there.

Rather than drag down this posting with paragraph after paragraph of my own observations, I'll just let the back cover blurbs from each book speak for themselves.

From "Infidel":

"One of today's most admired and controversial political figures, Ayaan Hirsi Ali burst into international headlines following the murder of Dutch filmmaker Theo van Gogh by an Islamist who threatened that she would be next. She made headlines again when she was stripped of her citizenship and resigned from the Dutch Parliment.

" 'Infidel' shows the coming of age of this distinguished political superstar and champion of free speech as well as the development of her beliefs, iron will, and extraordinary determination to fight injustice. Raised in a strict Muslim family, Hirsi Ali survived civil war, female mutilation, brutal beatings, adolescence as a devout believer during the rise of the Muslim Brotherhood, and life in four troubled, unstable countries ruled largely by despots. She escaped from a forced marriage and sought asylum in the Netherlands, where she earned a college degree in political science, tried to help her tragically depressed sister adjust to the West, and fought for the rights of Musilm women and the reform of Islam as a member of Parliment. Under constant threat, demonized by reactionary Islamists and politicians, disowned by her father, and expelled from family and clan, she refuses to be silenced."

It goes on, but you get the idea.

Compare that to the descripton of "Eat Pray Love," which I foolishly grabbed from a bookstore display for no better reason than (I cannot believe I'm admitting this) I saw lots of people reading it in airports:

"In her early thirties, Elizabeth Gilbert had everything a modern American woman was supposed to want -- husband, country home, successful career -- but instead of feeling happy and fulfilled, she felt consumed by panic and confusion. This wise and rapturous book is the story of how she left behind all these outward marks of success, and of what she found in their place. Following a divorce and a crushing depression, Gilbert set out to examine three different aspects of her nature, set against the backdrop of three different cultures: pleasure in Italy, devotion in India, and on the Indonesian island of Bali, a balance between worldly enjoyment and divine transcendence."

It goes on, but you get the idea. Again and again.

It's not that Gilbert isn't a good writer. She is. And if you're going to write in the travel-as-self-discovery genre, the result is, by default, rather self-absorbed. That's kind of the point.

But to read Gilbert's book, then immediately follow it with Hirsi Ali's (I seldom wait more than a day between books), is to be slapped in the face with a literary example of, as everyone said in those weeks after Sept. 11, "why they hate us." Never have I seen the vast gulf between contemporary American life and the horrors of life in many African and Arab cultures (particularly for women) so strikingly presented. And the fact that so many Americans seem to be reading "Eat Pray Love," (in airports, anyway) instead of "Infidel" does not bode well for our understanding of what we are up against in terms of radical Islam versus the West (Yes, I know many commentators rant about what an oversimplification that is, but this is my blog. Get over it.).

So if you're looking for a valuable way to spend your reading time, please consider "Infidel."

On the other hand, if you just want brainless beach-blanket fare (assuming that you've already finished "The Da Vinci Code"), then by all means dive into "Eat Pray Love."

There are plenty of copies at the airport.

Basketball goals, Edmund Gwenn and the best gift I could have gotten

2009-01-01T14:46:00.007-06:00

I can't explain why a Jewish kid who never saw snow during childhood is such a sucker for "Miracle on 34th Street." Since the first time I saw it, the story of the department store Santa who may be the "real deal" has been my favorite holiday film. (I even liked the remake with Richard Attenborough in the Edmund Gwenn role. The scene where he signs for the deaf girl still puts a lump in my throat.)

I loved the film so much that I married the grown-up version of the cynical little girl who doesn't believe in Santa, but then is shown he can do miraculous things. (I guess when we get that beachfront home in Hawaii, with no mortgage, Sarah will leave cookies and milk out on Christmas Eve.) So perhaps I was looking for a little of that holiday magic when Elijah requested that Santa bring him numerous (the number seemed to change every day) basketball goals.

Lo and behold, we had our own little miracle on our street. While at work on Christmas Eve, Sarah was discussing with co-workers the basketball goal dilemma we were facing the next morning. One of them mentioned that the paper had done a photo essay on various basketball goals in the area, and in fact the pictures were somewhere in the paper's system. That night Sarah came home with a stack of photos of all sorts of goals. The goals were new, old, broken and pristine. Perfect for our little aficionado.

Needless to say the pictures were the ultimate gift. For Hanukah and Christmas Elijah got all sorts of toys, DVDs and books, but nothing on Christmas morning was more important or caused a wider smile. As soon as he saw the pictures he asked me to staple them together so they could become a "book." Then he spent the entire day carrying it around with him, ignoring almost all of the other gifts he received (the exception being anything having to do with Wall-E). He was ecstatic, describing each and every goal, whether there was writing on the backboard or if the net was missing. In fact, the basketball goal "book" received the ultimate seal of approval; Elijah wouldn't let go of it even when he fell asleep.

As for Sarah and I, we had decided not to exchange gifts this year so while I got nothing tangible each night I lit the menorah, nor anything under the tree, I did get an incredible gift the day after Christmas. When Elijah came down the stairs that morning he saw all of his gifts piled high on a table in our entry. A smile that could only be described as "from ear to ear" graced his face as he viewed his bounty. But the best was yet to come. As he stepped off the final stair, Elijah walked over and wrapped his arms around me in as warm a hug one can imagine, and told me, "I love you so much, Daddy." Playing Pebble Beach with a new set of Pings couldn't hold a candle to that.

Happy New Year!

2008-12-31T16:50:00.005-06:00

A short post here, I promise. After all, I need to get ready for our big New Year's Eve celebration -- a "family fun night" at our health club. (My, how parenthood changes things.)

But to start the new year off right, I wanted to link to a couple of fun blogs that gave me a sometimes rather embarrassing view of ... myself. You've probably heard of "Stuff White People Like," which a friend sent me a link to many months ago. (If you click on that link, be sure to then click on the full list of Stuff White People Like.) It was so funny I kept reading and reading, nearly missing my yoga class (No. 15 on the list) and at one point almost snorting out my coffee (No. 1). This was shortly after my breakfast of organic foods (No. 6). I had recently finished a book by David Sedaris (No. 25). And, of course, I voted for Barack Obama (No. 8). If you know me at all, and read this list, you will see that I'm so white, I'm practically translucent. Which explains why such a large chunk of my summertime paychecks goes to sunscreen.

The whole "Stuff White People Like" theme has become something of a franchise, which now includes "Stuff Journalists Like." It has a depressingly familiar theme -- the list includes low pay (makes us feel noble), working holidays (makes us feel superior to the lazy masses) and even layoffs (which have the eventual result of getting us into jobs with higher pay and holidays off). It also includes a number of items in common with "Stuff White People Like," but on the journalists' list, Obama is, appropriately, No. 44. It even includes "year in review" stories, which you're no doubt sick of by now. But there is an explanation for them. You'll just have to read it for yourself.

I like these sites enough that I'm adding them to my meager little blogroll. So anytime you need a laugh at the expense of white people or journalists, you can just come here!

"We don't want another Oswald!"

2008-12-31T04:42:00.009-06:00

For those of us of a certain age, that phrase, yelled by a hysterical radio newsman amidst the chaos of Robert Kennedy's shooting, will always conjure up sad memories of two brothers dying way too soon, when they still had so much to give to our country.

In our household, that phrase now means something completely different. On the cable station Noggin, there is an old Nick program (for any parents out there, I'm sure you have those cable station numbers memorized!) about a blue octopus who always wears a black derby and lives in "Big City." He shares his apartment with a dachshund named Weenie who wears a hot dog bun as a coat. His closest friend is a penguin who always has to read the daily paper, can never deviate from what he has planned for that day and will never try new foods. (No, his name is not Sarah, although she should demand some sort of royalty from the creators.) There are many other characters on the show, among them:

A flower who roller skates everywhere who would best be described as ditsy

A pair of eggs who speak with English accents

A snowman who is the local ice cream man

"Madam Butterfly" and her baby daughter, Katrina (a caterpillar) who runs the local diner

A rabbit who seems to own and work in every store in town

and "Pongo," a friendly dragon

Elijah has become addicted to this program, and because our cable provider has DVR as part of its service, we have recorded almost every episode. To aid us in finding what Elijah wants to watch, I have listed days and show titles on a cheat sheet for reference. So when little guy asks to see the "Chasing the Ice Cream Truck" episode, I can get it for him without going through 30 different shows, and all the trauma that may bring.

The connection of all this to the title quote of this posting? The octopus' name is OSWALD, and after a morning of watching two or three of these shows (each containing two stories) the quote I mentioned earlier takes on a completely different meaning in our home, and becomes Sarah's and my mantra. Yet I really can't complain because now, whenever I hear the name Oswald, my only thought will be of the sweet character below (drawing by Elijah).

A beautiful mind

2008-12-28T07:44:00.006-06:00

For those who wonder how the brain of a child on the autism spectrum functions, I believe Elijah has given a classic example. In between drawing basketball goals and numerous buildings and coloring butterflies, he wrote down random words that were going through his head, all with the speed of a reporter on deadline:

With all this going on in his mind, along with memorizing countless songs and entire scripts from TV programs, is it any wonder he can't remember to pick up his toys when he's done with them? Or that just Daddy making excuses for his "little guy"? I know where Sarah comes down in that discussion!

Yes, it's still Jeff and Sarah!

2008-12-25T22:51:00.000-06:00

We're getting ready to jump into 2009 with some minor changes to our blog, including the title. (The address remains the same.)

Using our first names was so uncreative it was pathetic. I'm not saying that the solution you see above is brilliant -- especially since this template won't let me uppercase what I want to uppercase (a painful thing for a copy editor). But our new title certainly describes our approaches to life, particularly parenting: I'm the mom who doesn't go for organized youth sports, time-outs, baking, arts and crafts or entire days spent entertaining my offspring and driving him from activity to activity. I actually think boredom is GOOD for kids. Trust me, this puts me WAY OUT into odd territory.

And Jeff is, hands-down, the world's most even-tempered dad.

Perhaps I'll get around to making this site more splashy as the year goes on. At the very least, I plan to add quite a few links to sites Jeff and I like (some blogs, some not), as well as more photos. Improving my Web design and editing skills is my personal goal for 2009, not to mention my only chance for professional survival.

We had a fun little Christmas at our house, and it turns out that Santa came through with the basketball goal request -- in his own way. More on that later.

It's Top 10 time!

2008-12-22T19:06:00.001-06:00

Well, it's actually two Top 5 lists. I'm trying to update this blog more often but am too lazy to do those long posts all the time (you can thank me now!)

Top 5 things I hate about winter:
5. All that yucky mud and salt and dirt covering my car and eating away at the undercarriage.
4. No flowers, leaves or green grass in sight. For month after month after month.
3. Leaving my desk exhausted at midnight, going outside and finding that a 20-minute ice-scraping job awaits before I can start the half-hour drive home.
2. That sinking feeling as I try to start the car in subzero temperatures, with my (painfully frozen) fingers crossed in hopes that the engine will, indeed, eventually come to life. And then trying to coax the frozen steering wheel to turn and the stick shift to shift.
1. That blast of cold air whistling through the crack between the door and the frame and chilling the entire downstairs because when last I thought about weatherstripping, it was when I happened to notice, on a 103-degree day in July, that it was all peeling off. Must get that fixed before winter, I told myself.

Top 5 things I love about winter:
5. Watching big, beautiful snowflakes transform the world into a quiet, pristine and glittering landscape that no Hallmark card can even begin to replicate.
4. Bundling up with Elijah, layer after natural-fiber layer, so we can go out to the backyard to make snow angels and sled down the hill.
3. Snow ice cream!
2. Curling up with a good book or a glass of wine (or both!) in front of a roaring fireplace on a cold, dark night. Might even have a few freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies, while I'm being indulgent.
1. Dreaming of a white Christmas -- and watching that dream come true with my little boy!

If Hanukah Harry falls in the forest and nobody is there, will he still say, "Oy Vey"?

2008-12-22T17:45:00.000-06:00

For those of you who think that we have had too many crises this past year (Iraq, financial meltdown, unemployment creeping into everyone's life, Bristol Palin's future mother-in- law busted for operating a meth lab) there is one more that every Jewish parent faces this time of year....the dreaded "December Dilemma".

This is the problem of explaining to our child why instead of having a festive tree, singing spiritual songs, waiting up all night to catch a glimpse of Santa and having a gaudy light display in front of our house, we instead light cheap wax candles, eat chocolate money and wonder why two of the biggest selling Christmas albums of all time are by Barbra Streisand and Neil Diamond.

Of course in our home, this really isn't a problem. I have seen photos of me as a child with our family gathered around a "Hanukah bush" and heard stories from my parents of my brother, sister and myself sitting on Santa's lap. Furthermore, because of my spouse's love of Christmas, a decorated tree has been part of our home for many years (as has a lit menorah and mezuzah), which fortunately has not led to my being asked to leave the Temple during Yom Kippur services.

But the real reason this is not a problem in our home is that Elijah doesn't care what the occasion is as long as he gets presents and chocolate-chip cookie dough or Hanukah gelt (chocolate money). For the last few years he has shown some (but not a lot) of interest in lighting the menorah, only because he knew chocolate was part of the equation. And Christmas had even less significance to him, as no chocolate was involved.

This year, things are different. Elijah really wanted to help decorate the tree and has been talking about Santa Claus and what he wants him to bring for Christmas (as an earlier post noted, basketball goals were high on the list). He also has been reading "Blue's Clues Hanukah Party" every day (for the record, Blue is not Jewish -- the party is at his friend Orange Kitty's house), so it really does feel like a holiday season around the house.

However, some confusion has crept into this festive time. Elijah has wanted a book he saw at Barnes and Noble, so we told him to ask Santa for it, which he did the following day. (Our health club had a Santa this past weekend). Unfortunately, he couldn't comprehend the idea that Christmas was still a few days away, so Santa couldn't bring him the book till then. This did not sit well with our impatient son. Then we realized that the first night of Hanukah was upon us and we could give him the book, which we did, bringing a wide smile to his face.

Did you follow that? We told Elijah to ask Santa for a gift, that he then received on the first night of Hanukah. This cosmic shift in the religious world that took place could only be described as monumental. Alas, our literal little lad knows the truth all too well. As soon as he asked Santa for the book he wanted he turned to me and said, "Daddy and Elijah to go to Barnes and Noble and get Lots of Dots" (the book in question). So much for the Santa mystique.

Still, it is great to see him excited about the holidays, and the happiness he exudes for both Hanukah and Christmas truly brings joy to our world.

You can't always get what you want

2008-12-16T16:33:00.000-06:00

It's that time of year again, when the newspapers (Ooops! I meant Web sites! Everyone knows newspapers are, as Jon Stewart says, "Black and white and totally over.") are filled with tales of families struggling with how to tell children that Santa might not be able to make a visit this year.

As a mother, these stories tug at my heartstrings (yes, despite my cynicism in many areas of life, I do have heartstrings capable of being tugged). And this year, of course, there are more such stories than usual. But sometimes, those stories aren't quite as sad as they seem at first glance.

Take our house, for example. In a miracle that makes the Chanukah oil thing look like child's play, it turns out that both Jeff and I still have jobs, at least for the time being. So Santa will indeed be visiting this year (how about THAT for a multicultural paragraph? If only I could figure out a way to work in references to Kwanzaa, Diwili and Ramadan ...).

However, like many children who are far less fortunate than him, Elijah will NOT be getting the gifts dearest to his heart. This is not because Santa is being Scrooge-y this year, but because Elijah's requests for the Jolly Old Elf are -- how shall I put this? -- absurd.

There was a time, as recently as a year ago, when I thought Elijah would never understand the Santa concept. Kids with autism are very literal and generally do not have great imaginations, so abstract concepts are lost on them. Whether it's God or the Tooth Fairy or Santa, if they can't see it, it doesn't exist. So after about three or four years of trying to get Elijah excited about Christmas and reindeer and gifts and such, I had pretty much given up.

You've probably guessed the flaw in my thinking: Of COURSE you can see Santa! He's right here, in the newspaper ad (I mean, on the Web), on television, at the mall, etc. And finally, Elijah has taken notice:

"Santa can bring a basketball goal!"

I groan, having long ago grown weary of his obsession with basketball goals. It began when he was barely a year old, and it took us six months to figure out that "ba-ba cone" meant "basketball goal." By age 3, he had counted the 22 (he was an unusually early counter) basketball goals on driveways between our house and preschool. By 4, he was drawing pictures of them day in and day out. Even pictures of other subjects nearly always included a basketball goal (that's it right there, weaving its way up between the two figures on the right):

And by 5, he was pointing out the various styles and colors of backboards, nets, poles, brackets and countless accessories that I never knew existed.

Mind you, he does not play basketball. Has no interest whatsoever in it (or any other sport). He'll watch basketball on TV, but only because he's waiting for those glorious closeups of the ball going into (his heart flutters!) THE GOAL!

So his request to Santa was not altogether unexpected. Of course, he already has several of the coveted objects -- two of the little door-hanging kind that he has dragged around the house (even to bed) until they've fallen apart, plus a plastic adjustable outdoor one.

But is this enough? No! My little boy, who I never thought would "get" Christmas or Santa, wants more (after all, what is Santa really about, if not... "more"?). At last count we were up to "Santa can bring EIGHT basketball goals! Santa can bring eight BIG basketball goals! Black and red ones! And brown." And, lest I try to pull the "where would Santa get them?" routine: "Santa can get them at Target!"

This is the problem with kids who think literally. That elf-staffed toy factory at the North Pole doesn't seize their imaginations nearly to the extent that Target does. Or Dick's Sporting Goods, where great big black-and-red basketball goals can be had for a mere $500 each.

So I explain to Elijah that no, Santa is not going to bring $4,000 worth of basketball goals to a little boy who flatly refuses to play basketball. Undauted, he writes the following:

So, here we are, a week before Christmas, a pile of toys in an upstairs closet waiting to be wrapped, with the probability of a very disappointed little boy on Christmas morning. As I have attempted to explain to Jeff, this is one of those Important Life Lessons that his generation knows as the lyrics to a Rolling Stones song.

Meanwhile, I try to remember the lesson in those lyrics when I think back to Elijah's comment after I explained the situation involving the cost of EIGHT basketball goals:

"Mom and Dad need to get some MONEY!"

Mom, the Ultimate Party Pooper

2008-12-02T19:07:00.000-06:00

Let me start out by saying that I have never claimed to be a fun person.

I'm not terribly energetic, for one thing, and I have never been particularly spontaneous. For example, if you decide you'd like to meet me for lunch (not that you would), you can't just call and say, "Hey, Sarah, how about lunch today?" That would totally freak me out, because it is NOT ON MY CALENDAR FOR TODAY. And if things are not on my calendar, I tend to hyperventilate when someone suggests them. Most days of my calendar are filled out weeks in advance, so if you would like to have lunch sometime in January, by all means send me an e-mail as soon as possible! I would love to pencil you in. (Yes, my calendar is actually on paper, not on a BlackBerry or iPhone. I can barely figure out how to update this blog, so give me a break here!)

The only truly out-of-character spontaneity I have ever experienced -- and this is a big one -- was a spur-of-the moment, four-hour middle-of-the-night road trip to Memphis, Tenn., in October 1993. One of my traveling companions who's been at this blogging thing much longer than I have wrote a better description of it than I ever could, and he just posted a comment with the news that it is right here.

Anyway, this is all a very long-winded way to say that I am not one of those fun moms you read about in magazines and newspapers (often in the police blotter, I might add). I have certain ideas about the way any given day should unfold, and those ideas include sitting together as a family at the dinner table.

Until recently, I was under the impression that the two males who share my household were on board with this. But since my shift to part-time work, which puts me at home three entire evenings a week -- and all in a row, no less! -- it has become increasingly clear that eating dinner at the kitchen table, or even in the kitchen, has not been the standard operating procedure these past few years. They were able to pull it together enough to put on the act for Mom two nights a week, but it all fell apart when the act was required for three full nights.

Although he's a kid of few words, Elijah can communicate quite a bit with those few words.

"Mom should go to work!" he declared one night at the dinner table shortly after my schedule change. He's repeated this request, with increasing desperation, week after week. Clearly, things are much more fun when Mom is at work, which pretty much confirms the suspicion I've had the past five years that when I'm away, the inmate runs the asylum.

To Jeff's credit, the inmate does actually eat more nutritious foods when he is not forced to endure the indignity of sitting at a table. Jeff literally follows him around the house with a bowl of broccoli, or carrots, or chicken (but never all three at once -- they might TOUCH, and therefore contaminate one another). He puts food into Elijah's mouth, just like spoon-feeding a baby, while they watch TV, dance to YouTube videos, draw or play with TinkerToys. Enormous meals are consumed in this manner, night after night.

By contrast, meals with Mom the Merciless generally involve all courses being placed on the same plate at the same time (leading to countless cross-contamination possibilities) and plopped down in front of him at the table, along with the appropriate utensils.

That's it. No music. No dancing. No toys or crayons or videos. No promises of post-dinner ice cream as a bargaining chip to encourage broccoli consumption. And, perhaps worst of all, no games involving bodily noises.

So the whining begins, and eventually Jeff takes over while I resign myself to another evening of irrelevance. I finish my dinner, then try to keep myself busy while the two of them wander through the house completing Elijah's dinner. After a rollicking YouTube video dance jam at what I consider ear-splitting decibel levels, it's bath and bedtime, which Elijah does allow me to be involved in, but only if Jeff reads him his final bedtime story.

One of these days, I'll share the grisly story of his birth, and perhaps he'll appreciate me just a bit more.

But just to be on the safe side, I'll give him big bowl of ice cream, too.

Time in a bottle

2008-11-20T10:47:00.000-06:00

I'm sure he meant well.

After all, he was only trying to save me some money. Still, when the teenage boy at the checkout counter offers you the senior discount, "if you happen to be 55 or older, ma'am," well, it can really ruin a 42-year-old's day.

Granted, the roots have been looking a little gray lately. My kind husband was thoughtful enough to point that out recently, at which point I was thoughtful enough to point out to him that the reason I hadn't visited the salon was to save money. And this was BEFORE he managed to smash his car into not one, but TWO stationary objects in the span of one week.

I briefly considered actually having the damage repaired. Then I found out that said repairs would cost at least $2,000. Our insurance deductible is $500, and who knows what a claim would do to our premiums? Getting the gray out of those roots is a bit over $100, including the haircut. A bargain by comparison.

So guess who has to keep driving around in a banged-up car? Hint: Not me.

So now the gray has been brought under control, but I'm still stewing a bit over that checkout-line conversation.

Granted, there was more going on than the gray hair. It was past midnight, for one thing, and I was exhausted from a long night at work. So there was that dark-circles-under-the-eyes thing going on.

Plus, I was limping, as I have been for months now because of a knee injury I got by taking classes I wasn't in shape for at our nearby Very Large Upscale Health Club. Memberships there are not cheap -- and neither is the physical therapy and medical treatment I started getting for that knee, once I finally admitted that it wasn't going to heal on its own and perhaps needed professional attention.

That brought on yet another age-related comment that I could have done without. One of the physicians, at the end of my fourth visit for evaluation of this problem, informed me that 10 years ago, she would have simply recommended a program of specific exercises to strengthen the supporting muscles of me knee. But now, injections were the first line of treatment.

I took this to mean that a miracle drug had developed in the past 10 years, which would now work in tandem with physical therapy to speed healing. Then she added, "after all, this knee is now 42, not 32."

Oh.

I really don't know why such things annoy me so much. You'd think I'd have started getting used to this soon after Elijah's birth. He was just a few months old, and I was still having residual ligament pain from his birth, the first time someone asked Jeff and I if we were "the proud parents or the proud grandparents."

Ouch. There's a new kind of pain!

I eventually was able to laugh that one off, since I had been with Jeff at the time. And he is -- let's just be blunt here -- a baby boomer. Obviously, there are no spring chickens left among THAT demographic.

But the next time it happened, it was just me with Elijah, in a checkout line (what IS it about checkout people? Aren't they taught MANNERS?).

"Your grandson is such a cutie!" the store employee beamed. Elijah wasn't even a year old at that point, which means I was still 37. I told myself that Mr. Overly Friendly Checkout Guy must have thought I was one of those REALLY young grandparents. Yes, that's it! Like on "Oprah," where I once saw a show featuring a woman who became a grandmother at the ripe old age of 28. (No, that's not a typo.)

But then I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glass of a display case, and I must admit, I could have done better that day. The baggy clothes, the hair, the aforementioned dark circles under the sleep-deprived eyes -- everything about me screamed "old."

Even more frightening, I was on my way to drop Elijah off with Jeff and head downtown to work, looking like something out of Night of the Living Dead. Real professional.

So, now that I might actually have to face being in the job market again (I'm still employed, but it's a tenuous employment at best), I have resolved to somehow look younger. Got the hair thing taken care of. I could stand to lose a few pounds, and I perhaps should try to project a little more pep.

Pep is really not my thing, but I'm determined to give it a try. Maybe I can buy it in a bottle.

I'll use my senior discount.

Death by a thousand cuts

2008-11-10T15:17:00.000-06:00

Anybody need a copy editor?

You're probably shaking your head right now, thinking, What exactly is a copy editor, and why would I need one? I have spellcheck!

Well, if you're one of the countless people who, as you are placing the order for your Christmas cards this year, find yourself merrily typing an apostrophe in your surname, as in "Happy Holidays from the Smith's," then you indeed need a copy editor. I'm not even going to get into the geeky grammatical explanation of why that apostrophe is Just. Plain. Wrong. You'll have to trust me on this one.

The reason I'm wondering whether anyone needs a copy editor is simple: Today is yet another Layoff Day at my newspaper. (Layoff days, in my world, are sort of like wars. Once they become a recurring event, they get uppercase, proper noun treatment.)

So here I sit, wondering whether I have dodged the ax yet again. (This would be the fourth time this year, for those of you keeping track at home.) I'm cautiously optimistic, based on the fact that the e-mail announcing this round of bloodshed was sent at 12:32 p.m. and stated that nearly all affected employees already had been informed. It is now 3:50 p.m. -- no one has called, and an e-mail exchange with my immediate supervisor (who may or may not actually know) seems to indicate that I am safe once again.

As usual, the best source of information is the blogosphere (now THERE'S a sentence I never thought I'd write!). Local media gossip blogs, which have been amazingly accurate through round after round of these layoffs, have posted a list of those who have been let go. Some of the names were expected, some are stunning, some are sad (Would YOU lay off an employee who had worked nights, weekends and holidays for you for several decades and whose wife has recently been diagnosed with cancer? Well, then, you are not cut out for management!).

So here I sit, waiting and wondering and possibly sealing my eventual fate with sentences like those at the end of the paragraph above. If you're one of my bosses, trust me when I say that I'm NOT talking about you personally. I'm talking about the whole corporate machinery that builds up people and products and services, then cannibalizes itself in a desperate attempt to undo the damage wrought by macroeconomic forces and its own bad decisions.

Then gives its top executives multimillion-dollar golden parachutes.

You and I are both victims. But at least for now (4 p.m. Central, and the phone is still silent!), my name is not on the list. I hope yours isn't, either.

.....and Through it All, He Did it His Way.......

2008-11-08T06:30:00.000-06:00

As we've mentioned in previous posts, Elijah is quite an artist. His teachers often praise his ability to draw and his fine motor skills. When he is coloring one of his beloved butterfly outlines he is meticulous to make sure nothing is outside the lines and each color combination is either new or has a meaning. (He used red, blue and yellow to represent Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum from Alice in Wonderland).

This is an example of Elijah's work when he had free time at school. His "Shapes" has become one of his favorites, being dragged from room to room in our house.

His fascination with street signs is evident through our home, but this group includes, on the bottom right hand sign, a "no parking" attachment done freehand that I couldn't recreate even with a stencil.

But unfortunately along with his artistic ability comes an artistic temperament. Like any great artist, Elijah wants to create, not be TOLD what to draw. At a recent parent-teacher conference we were shown a variety of projects Elijah had done in school. Below is a sample of an art project he had no interest in, coloring in pumpkins. (There were a couple of these "efforts" shared with us.)

I'd much rather have this response from our little artist when things don't go right than taking a knife to his ear!

The dangling conversation

2008-11-03T15:51:00.000-06:00

I never thought of eavesdropping as a sport. Then I met Jeff.

Those of you who know my dear husband know that he has an almost obsessive interest in human nature. He is a devoted people-watcher, which means that public settings of all kinds fascinate him. Within minutes of arriving at any location that involves a crowd, he zeros in on whomever he has determined has the most drama-filled life.

How does he know, you ask? He doesn't, of course, but that doesn't stop him from concocting a story, right on the spot. All it takes is a few snippets of conversation and a quick analysis of clothing, hairstyle, makeup and the telltale signs of cosmetic "enhancement," and he's off and running.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting there with my nose stuck in a book, magazine or newspaper, trying to ignore his obvious breach of public etiquette. I've always thought it terribly rude to people-watch, and ruder still to listen in on the conversations of strangers.

But one day recently, I found myself listening to half of a cell phone conversation. All I can say is ...... I've been missing a lot of drama in life!

I was at the park with Elijah because, knowing that winter will descend upon us soon, we simply couldn't stay inside on a beautiful 70-degree late-October day. (The trees have just recently turned the most brilliant shades of orange, red, purple and yellow that I've ever seen, and the sheer beauty of all that color against a deep blue sky is enough to draw even a die-hard indoors person like me out into the fresh air.)

So there we were, Elijah scrambling over the play equipment and me sitting on a bench cursing the fact that I had forgotten to bring a book, when I happened to overhear a thirtysomething woman on the phone. She was talking to a relative, apparently a sibling, about arranging a family Thanksgiving get-together in Chicago. Then she let it slip:

"All I can say is, with the economy the way it is, thank God that Mom pays for the airline tickets."

This was followed by a long silence. Then.... "Well, uh, yeah. Ever since college."

A really long silence...... "Are you still there?"

At that point she was moving away from me, and I missed out on the next few minutes of conversation -- making me understand for the first time the frustration that Jeff gets when a juicy discussion moves out of hearing range. She stayed on the phone, though, and by the time she circled back around to where I was sitting, the topic had moved on. But there was an unmistakable tenseness in her words, and she laughed just a little too loudly at several points. By the time the conversation ended, she was clearly feeling uncomfortable, and I can't blame her. So was I!

So, Jeff, next time we're out in public and you're spying while I'm reading, clue me in! Eavesdropping just might turn out to be the one sport I'm good at.