End of an Era, Beginning of Greater Things

Today, we put our son on the bus to school and sent him on his way. A simple enough thing, something every parent goes through at some point in the lives of their children.

But when your child is autistic, it's a different story. Duncan's only 4 1/2 years old and he's headed off to special needs preschool. So he's going a year earlier than most kids, to get a head start on the skills he'll need to go to regular kindergarten next year. It makes perfect sense to me in my head. He's going to get some great training from his teacher, much better than even the fantastic counselor he had did when he was at day care.

But here's the image that sent me off to work today: seeing my little son, who looks so big when he's sitting among other kids his age (he's pretty darned tall for his age, most people think he's in first grade), looking so scared and small on the seat of that bus as he headed off to school. He didn't cry, he just looked at us not understanding why we weren't going with him. We waved to him and smiled as he rode off.

After we put him on the bus I had to excuse myself to the bathroom to compose myself to be strong for my wife and daughter, who's still only almost two and doesn't go to school any time soon. Not an easy thing to do... I feel so guilty about leaving him.

Duncan was the only one on the bus at that point other than the driver, since he's the first to be picked up. It made it easier to put him on, probably, because he got to pick where he wanted to sit. But as I put the harness on him, all I could think was I need to go with him. I want to see where he's going. I want to tell him it's going to be all right.

He knew something new was up, obviously, because we've been preparing him as best we could. New school clothes, talking about going to school, new books about going to school, and asking him if he's excited to go. But it wasn't real to him, you knew it was just something else to talk about.

Last Friday he got to go to the school to meet his teacher and see the classroom, and also for the teacher to interview Jenn and get to know what she can expect from him. Special Ed is a bit more focused in such regards, and Duncan will be one of two autistic children in the class. She asked everything: what his tantrum triggers are, what calms him, what does he like to do, what does he dislike, the whole nine yards. Jenn said it was a very detailed interview which made me feel good.

So I'm glad that he knows where he's going and that the people there know about him. Duncan's a very high-functioning autistic - he can be very social but doesn't always get the intricacies of human interaction, like seeing if someone's okay when they're crying, or holding a conversation about what he did that day, etc. And he has a few of the triggers where his senses get overwhelmed - mostly noise-related, like fireworks, hand dryers in bathrooms and the like - and he shuts down and panics. But those are few and far between and we know how to deal with it when it happens.

His speech has a few issues - some issues with clarity, and some issues with what's called "echolalia" where he quotes movies, TV, other people, etc. a lot (almost ad nauseum sometimes), though usually in context. For instance, when I was trying to tell him and his sister to come to the table one night for dinner, he looked at me and quoted from the movie Treasure Planet, saying "Stop giving orders." Pretty funny.

It also causes him to misuse pronouns a lot because he quotes whole passages instead of breaking down the indivual words. So if he wants to hang on my arm like a monkey, he tells me "May I hang on my arm please?" because I tell him to "hang on my arm."

One thing that's always been remarkable to me is how the autistic people I've met individually have had a real good grasp of their challenges. I worked with a young man, named Brian, with Asperger's Syndrome, a condition on the autistic spectrum, who was one of the best detail-oriented data entry people I ever met. But he was obsessed with movies and game shows. The first time I met him, Brian told me about Asperger's Syndrome at great length and I was very impressed with how handled himself. He rambled a bit and went into some detail that I probably didn't need, but he wanted to make sure that I understood what was going on.

And another time, when I was trying to get some work done and he stopped in my office to tell me about one of his favorite movies, I told him "Brian, thanks, but I need to get some work done right now" he apologized and moved on, totally unoffended and totally okay with being told. It was very impressive.

And Duncan's not even as severe as Brian is. The school system folks think this is probably the only year that he'll need full-time special ed, though he probably will need a counselor going through school on occasion to help him handle the challenges he encounters. So this is a big, important year for him.

In my head, I know he's going to be okay. His teacher is going to take great care of him. He's going to have the opportunity to master the challenges he has in his life under the care of people who are going to help him as much as they can.

But in my very emotional heart, I am remembering two things:

The look he gave us as he went off to school on his bus this morning...

And the hug he gave me last night before going to bed. He asked me to give him a big hug, and after I picked him up and put my arms around him, he said into my ear "You are my son." And I looked at him and told him "That's right, Duncan. You are my son." Then another big hug and it was off to bed.

My son started school today. And it's the beginning of him growing into the great young man I know he's going to be. But that doesn't make it any easier to see that little boy leaving on the little bus.

The Mind of a Baby's Father

No better way to say it!

New Addition!

Jennifer and I added a new member to the family over the weekend. Moira Torunn Fellrath was born on Friday morning at OSU Hospital. She's in great health and is cute as the dickens.

She's 7 lb. 6 oz., 19 1/2" long, and did I mention she's cute as the dickens? :)

Moira is an anglicization of the Gaelic Máire or Mary. Torunn is Scandinavian and means "Daughter of Thor" (and no, this does not mean I have delusions of grandeur).

Mom is also doing well, she came home from the hospital a day early.

I may be scarce for a while on the old blog, for obvious reasons. I'll catch you up later.

RIP: Tommy Makem

As much as many of them cringe to hear it, the music of most children's memory is that stuff their parents listened to during their early years. For me, that consists of lots of Neil Diamond, Burt Bacharach... and Tommy Makem. My dad is a bit tone-deaf due to a bad ear infection he had as a kid, and he always gravitates to lyrical music over instrumental because of that. And one band he loved dearly was the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem.

So I grew up listening to them - and when I was old enough I actually bought a couple of their albums myself. Tommy Makem is the consummate musician - passionate, respectful of those who've come before him and appreciative of those who've come after him, and humble about his skill and fame. He has a golden voice (golden as a dram of Irish Whiskey) and a wonderful presence about him, that makes you feel as if you're having a conversation with him as he sings or talks about his music.

Tommy died yesterday, but he'll never be missed. This weekend's Dublin Irish Festival will be a bit sadder for the loss of one so great, but in typical Irish fashion I'd imagine that this is going to be one heck of an Irish wake!

Pathetic Suburbanites

On my biking blog, I recently addressed a Dispatch interview with Mark McCullers, the general manager of the Crew. He was talking about Crew Stadium and the need for improvements around it. I discussed the need for bike racks and a better cycling infrastructure, as it is a biking blog.

One of the comments I received was from a fellow who calls himself "Adrock", but left no contact information. And frankly, it pissed me off. Here's his first comment:

They would also have to relocate the stadium somewhere that is acceptable for most people to take their families to, especially if by bike.

I don't go to Crew games for the same reason I don't go to Clippers games or go shopping at City Center.

Once the new baseball stadium opens though, I'll probably be cruising down there on my bike all the time. I'd definitely go to soccer games too if the stadium weren't in such an awful location. I can't imagine what our international visitors must think of Columbus when they see it.

Huh? My answer:

What's wrong with the location of Crew Stadium? It's centrally located and easily accessible from both the expressway and surface streets. Plenty of families come to Crew games all the time - in fact, crowds seem to be made up mostly of families.

And he responded just now with this:

well, for me personally, it's not a place i'd choose to go unless i had to. i grew up in hilliard and live in grandview and have friends & family that live all around other suburbs. i can tell you that a good number of us suburban folk don't find the state fairgrounds or anywhere else in the majority of the city of columbus an appealing place to go visit.

sure, call me sheltered or ignorant or anything else, but that's the way it goes.

Okay. You're sheltered and ignorant - and a bit stuck up. First of all, most of the Crew's audience is suburban families. So you really can't say that "They would also have to relocate the stadium somewhere that is acceptable for most people to take their families to" - as it's obviously perfectly acceptable for most people to take their families to. I take my family there for almost every game. My friends all do the same. Just because YOUR little enclave won't go doesn't mean MOST people won't.

Second, your need to cling to the suburbs is cultural elitism of the very worst. You don't wish to see how anyone outside your little pre-fab environment lives, so you hide and partition yourself from the real world.

Third, you're a sprawlist of the worst sort - instead of visiting something, you insist that it be brought to you instead. So you're spoiled, on top of sheltered, ignorant, and stuck up.

Not taking advantage of the things your city has to offer because of the location is just sad. And it's people like this who are responsible for much of the environmental degradation we see today via the magic of sprawl.

Pitter Patter ...Pitter Patter... redux

Duncan walked up to me the other day and handed me something that he didn't quite understand, but was full of meaning for me... a picture of him in a frame, a frame that said "#1 Big Brother."

Yeah, that's right. The plumbing still works, we're having another kid. Aside from answering my own questions about my virility (which I really had none of, but I find funny to say, so bear with me), it's interesting to me how different this feels than the last time (when Jenn just told me she didn't think she was going to be able to play in our next indoor soccer season).

First of all, there's not any fear like last time. Duncan is a two-year-old now, and he's happy, healthy, and we're financially secure. I have no fears that we can't keep this going with another kid.

And of course, this time I know what's coming: sleepless nights, countless diapers, lots of laundry, more little toys all over the place, even more tiny socks (the socks! they're everywhere! ARRGGHH!!), power-chucking breast milk, and all the stuff that goes along with an infant. Plus the absolute joy at seeing a little life grow in front of your eyes.

What I don't know is a little unsettling, but not too much: how is Duncan going to handle being a big brother? Is he going to be helpful and happy to have a sibling? Is he going to be one of those kids who is resentful at having the attention taken away from him at times? I'm sure it'll be a combination of the two: the boy loves babies now, but certainly does like having the attention. He's a ham.

And how are we going to handle things like different schedules? Just simple things like the Little Gym - Duncan and the sequel are going to have to be in different classes due to their ages. And we're definitely going to need a new car - we barely all three fit into the one we have now. I have to sit in the back with Duncan because the passenger seat in front has to be pushed too far forward to fit his car seat; I simply don't fit up there.

I'm sure we'll sort it all out. But it certainly does get the mind reeling a bit.