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.

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.

The Boy Makes Me Proud

Duncan brought this book over to me last night to read to him. I almost cried I was so happy.

Of course, we ended the evening with One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish and How Do Dinosaurs Count To Ten. The boy likes his Geisel and extinct reptiles.

I'll Take Potpourri For $1000, Alex

Just a little bit of catch-up to cover the holiday happenings here, before I go off tomorrow on whatever the result of the Sugar Bowl is.

• Christmas was great. I got to spend some quality family time at home with Jenn and Duncan and he really had a good time (though I'm getting a little weary of his Wiggles piano). Duncan also got a pair of padded (of course) hockey sticks and a ball. He's happy as a clam - the kid has picked up on hockey as his favorite sport, for whatever reason, and he runs around the house with one of the sticks, not flailing it around as much as I'd feared, and having a great time trying to hit the ball.
  
  For myself, I got a lot of James Bond stuff from my wonderful family; a pair of bike tights, some gloves, and a pump/repair kit from my folks; a beautiful Irish sweater from Jenn; and some other fun trinkets from various other folks. The tights are going to work out nicely, I think, plus they show off my sexy legs really well. ;)
  
  The one disappointment - our global-warming-addled climate not having enough snow for me to take Duncan sledding on the sled I restored for him for his gift. Hopefully we'll get some of Denver's weather.
  
  
• The best bowl game I've seen so far is the Fiesta Bowl and the upset win by the Boise State Broncos. Despite my disappointment that the Glendale staff didn't paint half the field blue for the visitors from the potato state, the game was the most fun to watch of all of them. Normally I hate the NCAA's overtime structure, but darn it if that wasn't a great one. To watch a team actually go for a two point conversion instead of playing it safe and taking the one-pointer to force a second overtime period was a joy. And I always (with one notable exception, Jenn) enjoy watching Big 12 teams look like a bunch of over-hyped jokers.
  
  And the incurable romantic in my heart appreciated Fox covering the post-game proposal by Broncos star running back Ian Johnson to his cheerleader girlfriend... true Americana there!
  
  
• I started a new twist on my workout routine - instead of saying "I'm gonna work out every day" or something like that, I am going for numbers this year: I set a goal for the year of 100,000 Hindu squats and 30,000 Hindu push ups from the Matt Furey Combat Conditioning workout. And keeping track of those reps all year long will hopefully help me to have something to really strive for. We'll see... check out my other blog if you're curious about how that's working out (no pun intended).
  
  
• The Sugar Bowl has me a bit scared. LSU is gonna be tough, and we've not played up to our potential in a lot of games this season (with the exception of the Penn State game). Hopefully Weis has the boys ready. And hopefully we'll be surprised as we were back in the Cheerios Bowl a decade ago.
  
  
• I watched a great documentary from Discovery Times that I'd Tivoed a couple months ago (finally) called Addicted To Oil. Created by Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Thomas L. Friedman, it goes into the damage that oil does to our national security and to our climate, really breaking it down and showing the effects on both our security and the world's weather. He also goes into oil alternatives for both vehicles and general consumption, pointing out the good and bad of the various ideas. Very cool - check it out if you have the chance.
  
  And yes, I still need to see An Inconvenient Truth though I know most of what he's talking about already.
  
  
• On a similar train of thought, I watched Syriana over the holidays. This movie was outstanding though very disturbing at parts. Theatrically, it was a bit confusing, though that's part of its charm - you never are quite sure what's going on any more than the characters themselves are. It's definitely a movie you can see over and over and make new connections all the time.
  
  But the more important thing to take from it is the hypocrisy of the oil industry and its proponents in the government. The part that got me the most is when the eldest son of the emir, Nasir, is talking about how the US wants his brother to be the new emir because they consider him a Communist, simply because he decided to sell the country's oil to China as they offered him the best price (a very capitalist idea, wouldn't you think?).
  
  Go see this one if you haven't already. Though, if you're looking for a typically buff and sexy George Clooney in it, you're going to be watching the wrong movie because he reportedly put on 30 pounds for the role.
  
  
• There are still a couple things I want to get for my biking experience - a set of bike lights for the dark days and for my own safety, and some panniers so I don't have to use a backpack (and hopefully are a little more waterproof than the backpack I'm currently using. A set of fenders would also be nice - so I don't have to keep putting on rain pants.
  

I think that's everything.

Thoughts On The Wiggles

You may have heard at this point that Greg Page of the Australian group The Wiggles is leaving the group due to health reasons. You may have NO CLUE who Greg Page, also known as Greg Wiggle or the Yellow Wiggle, is. Normally, I'd be right along with you.

However... my two-year old boy Duncan LOVES the Wiggles. He's learned lots of words from their fine television shows and lots of neat dances and songs, too. Sure, it gets a bit repetitive, but that's how kids learn. And the Wiggles, three of whom have degrees in Childhood Development, understand that.

Greg started feeling the effects of his condition during one of the many tours the group does. The condition, Orthostatic Intolerance, which is a lowering of blood pressure when he is standing, resulting in fainting spells, fatigue, and other similar symptoms, made it impossible for him to continue in the high energy shows that he and his fellow performers put on. We took Duncan to see one of the shows when they came to Columbus in August, and he loved every minute of it. It's not easy to keep the attention of a less-than-two-year-old, but they did it. Duncan was dancing, staring at the stage, singing along, and enjoying the whole experience. Little did we know we were catching one of Greg's last performances ever.

It's weird for me to be feeling loss at such an event. Usually I push aside stories about celebrities as just gossip and stuff that doesn't really affect anyone. With this story, I'm not sure if it's going to affect Duncan or not. He's young enough that he probably won't notice until later in life. But I'll notice. And I will always give a tip of the hat to the man who helped my child experience so much fun and happiness through his gift of entertainment.

Thanks, Greg. My hat is off to you.

Childhood Is Fleeting

Last night I disassembled my son's infancy and put it in the basement. I brought his childhood upstairs and assembled it in his room.

Okay, actually, I took apart his crib and brought in his toddler bed. But that's not how it seems.

Anyone who knows me knows how nostalgic and sentimental I can get. So last night, when I was putting away Duncan's crib, I was feeling a sort of loss. I have absolutely no regrets with him, so don't get me wrong. But I'm going to miss all the fun he had in that crib. I loved to come into his room when he was awake and playing in his crib, hide behind its headboard, and then peek around the corner through the railing and watch him till he noticed me. Then he'd hop up and look over the headboard with his usual enormous smile.

Or you'd put him down for the evening and go back downstairs, and then for whatever reason you had to come back upstairs for something. And no matter how quiet you'd try to be, he'd hear you, and you'd start to head back downstairs and see him staring at you over the headboard, and he'd quietly smile and say "Hi."

But even more than that, that crib is a symbol of so much about him - in fact, if you think about it, it's a symbol of all I know about him. He's always been my baby boy, and I have a picture of him on the first day we put took him from his bassinet and put him into his crib. I'll always remember him struggling to pick his head up, trying to crawl, learning the "E-I-E-I-O" part of "Old McDonald Had A Farm" before he learned anything else, and most of all the smiles that he always had for Jenn and I when we came in to get him from his crib.

Tonight, we'll get a picture of him from his first night in his new toddler bed. And we'll start a whole new section of his life - the childhood years. I can't wait, and I wish they never had to come.

Growing Up: Duncan And Me

Duncan has been sick the past couple days - some sort of virus that is "going around." There's always something "going around," it seems. I often think that the only reason we take Duncan to the doctor is to verify that, yes, indeed, something IS "going around."

He's got the parainfluenza virus, we're told. The fact that they know what it is is comforting. At least that means that they know how to treat it, for the most part.

But Duncan is handling it like the little trooper he is. He's still not crying, just being a little more fussy and tired than usual. He's been running a fever, but the Children's Tylenol seems to be keeping that down. And he even got down and played with me a bit yesterday before turning back to the bottle and passing out for a while longer. Today (Jenn's home with him today, I had him yesterday) he's pretty much the same but a little stronger. Gotta love the little guy. Oh, he's also still weakly applauding his own recovery. :)

We've pretty much made the decision, though, that due to his being sick that we're not going to travel up to Michigan to let him stay with my folks while we go to the Notre Dame/BYU game in South Bend. They'd offered us their tickets and we'd accepted, but now that seems like less a good idea.

And here's where the growing up part comes into play: I really don't care. Having a little boy that I'm responsible for has grown me up to the point where I understand what's really important. Don't get me wrong - if the chance to go see ND play comes up again, I'm going to jump on it. But if something's wrong with Jenn or Duncan, that all goes out the window while I stay home with them. It happened for the Dublin Irish Festival this year and now it's happening with our wee bairn.

And I'm really fine with that! Guess I'm growing up...

Oh, the horror... the horror...

We've Created A Monster

So to speak, anyway. We taught Duncan how to applaud, and now he applauds himself all the time. :)

Other new developments include sitting up pretty much at will, pulling himself to his feet (which he did Sunday night at our Uncle Jim's apartment), and frequent use of the word "Uh-oh." Which he also does all the time. :)

The boy is talented - must take after his mother.