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Posts Tagged ‘swimming’

vote for jonah russell!

Posted in autism, swimming, tagged , , , , on July 21, 2011| 3 Comments »

Someone nominated me for Babble’s Top 25 • 2011 autism spectrum blogs, which is cool and kind of humbling.  Even though the title says it lists the ‘top 25′ it actually has the top 100 or so, based on readers’ votes.  If you read my blog and like it, will you please click on the link above, find Normal is a Dryer Setting (I think I’m number 33 or something right now) and then click on “I like this?” 

My goal is to make it into the actual top 25. 

Thanks.  🙂

It’s supposed to be 95 degrees or so today, and we’re planning to go back to my savior-friend H’s house after work so fish-boy can swim some more. 

This morning when I got to work, I was unloading the dishwasher.  We have these very tall, heavy glasses and I held one in my hand for a second and really, really wanted to throw it at a hard surface, just to watch it smash…to see the shards fly…to destroy something.

But I didn’t.

“Suffering is not enough. Life is both dreadful and wonderful. How can I smile when I am filled with so much sorrow?  It is natural–you need to smile to your sorrow because you are more than your sorrow.” — Thich Nhat Hanh

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his dolphin-happiness

Posted in autism, behavior, swimming, Uncategorized, tagged , , , on July 19, 2011| 5 Comments »

My good friend H, bless her, invited me and M and Jonah over to her house tonight and Thursday night to swim.  It’s all for Jonah, of course, and I soak up every moment of his dolphin-happiness;  at his request, swimming sans swimsuit again.

At one point he came climbing, seemingly happily, up the stairs of the pool and onto the deck, where he ran past me and went to dig his little fingers into H’s son D’s face.  We managed to avoid any injury, but only by a hair.  We re-directed Jonah back to the pool, and brave little D spent just a moment hiding behind his mom before smiling again and throwing balls into the water for Jonah to play with.  He’s a sweet little boy, almost 4.  I marvel at his words – his brain and how it works so differently from Jonah’s.

It’s always a swim-and-run, as Jonah decides abruptly when it is time to leave and simply starts heading toward the car – but this time Jonah scored himself a hot dog and some black soda as well, the little scamp.

When M and I got home, he surprised me by having DVR’ed old-school Bugs Bunny cartoons, and one of them was my absolute favorite – with Marvin-the-Martian:

Now Lewis Black is on TV; M and I saw him at the Palace Theater last year.  He just said:  “The Republican party has bad ideas, and the Democrats have no ideas.”

I think he’s right.

Anyway, I feel better tonight.  I feel grateful.

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the star thrower

Posted in Anderson School, autism, swimming, tagged , , , , , on July 10, 2011| 9 Comments »

On Friday I reached out to a LinkedIn contact whose description said she was an ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder) specialist.  She was incredibly kind and has made a social story for me to read to Jonah as he gets closer to transitioning out of Wildwood and into Anderson.

Also on Friday my mom and I drove to Anderson for a tour (her first, my second).  She was very brave about the whole thing and only cried a few times.  We got to see his room, and the bathroom (with a bath tub) is right across the hall from him.  Today I’m going to work on his social story and make a list of all the things I still need to do (get doctors to sign things, give us prescriptions and permissions…buy things on the list I haven’t yet gotten him.  I’m even sending him to school with my beloved GUSTER book bag).  These last 5 weeks are going to go fast; but then again, summer always seems to fly after the 4th of July has passed.

Emotionally I have good days and bad days, just like boo.  It is worst when I approach the cash register with a pile of his towels and bedding or whatever.  One cashier even asked me if I was going off to college – which was flattering, considering I graduated from college 20 years ago, but her question also required some sort of response.  I smiled that just-smile-Amy look I have on my face a lot these days and told her, simply, “no.”

Yesterday M and I took Jonah to swim at my friend H’s house.  Her 3-year-old was there but he was floating around in a pool toy so whenever Jonah told him “bye bye,” H could navigate her boy away from King Jonah of the Pool.  Meanwhile Jonah cavorted, swam around, went underwater, and jumped in about 80 times.  When he was done, though, he was done.

“All ny-yah,” he said (rhymes with pie-yah) which is his invented, alternative way to say “all done,”  and he climbed out, ran down the pool stairs, and started to make for the car.  “whoa, whoa, little boo,” I said as I caught him up in my arms.  After chasing him around the pool deck for 10 minutes or so, I got him dried off and dressed, and we quite literally swam-and-ran.  Five minutes later we’d thanked H, said goodbye to the other people there, and were back in the car, where Jonah promptly smacked my face when I put him in his car seat.  I’d already taken off my glasses, so it wasn’t too bad, as Jonah’s smacks-in-the-face go.  All in all I’d say he did really well there.

M is working on his car today, using instructions from online and the knowledge he learned from his dad, working on cars growing up in the ‘sticks’.  He’s doing stuff 90% of non-mechanics wouldn’t attempt, I think, but what do I know?

M is very supportive to me through all of this, helping care for Jonah whenever he can and holding me when I need to cry about what is happening.

But I’ve found an outlet – a way to turn the negativity into positivity – a method through which I can focus on something good, something that makes me feel like I’m not rapidly approaching the unimaginable age of 42 without having done anything of any real significance.  Now I am changing what I can, where I am, within my means and ability.  Whether this sudden need to do something good is inspired by chance, middle age, or Jonah’s leaving, I don’t care to analyze.

I have always loved this story:

Adapted from The Star Thrower by Loren Eiseley (1907-1977):

Once upon a time, there was a wise man who used to go to the ocean to do his writing. He had a habit of walking on the beach before he began his work.

One day, as he was walking along the shore, he looked down the beach and saw a human figure moving like a dancer. He smiled to himself at the thought of someone who would dance to the day, and so, he walked faster to catch up.

As he got closer, he noticed that the figure was that of a young man, and that what he was doing was not dancing at all. The young man was reaching down to the shore, picking up small objects, and throwing them into the ocean.

He came closer still and called out “Good morning! May I ask what it is that you are doing?”

The young man paused, looked up, and replied “Throwing starfish into the ocean.”

“I must ask, then, why are you throwing starfish into the ocean?” asked the somewhat startled wise man.

To this, the young man replied, “The sun is up and the tide is going out. If I don’t throw them in, they’ll die.”

Upon hearing this, the wise man commented, “But, young man, do you not realize that there are miles and miles of beach and there are starfish all along every mile? You can’t possibly make a difference!”

At this, the young man bent down, picked up yet another starfish, and threw it into the ocean. As it met the water, he said, “It made a difference for that one.”

This story has appeared all over the web in various forms, usually with no credit given to Mr. Eiseley. Loren Eiseley was a anthropologist who wrote extensively. He was the ‘wise man’ in the story, and he was walking along a beach after a storm and encountered the fellow throwing the starfish back.  Sometimes it is a little girl throwing the starfish into the ocean, sometimes a young man, once even an elder.

I want to be a star(fish)-thrower.  Like that lady I found was for me.

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on the upside

Posted in autism, Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on July 5, 2011| 2 Comments »

“…there is love, there is peace in this world…”

~ Guster

Jonah had lots of fun swimming the other day in a pool whose owners had kindly offered us its use while they went away for the weekend.  He wanted to swim sans suit, so we let him.  It was wonderful; he laughed and played.  What should be common is rare and precious.  Here are some pics, and more I took recently, capturing beauty…breathing it…internalizing the warmth of the sun, the smiles of my son… 

I love to take photos and wish I was 1/100th as good as my cousin D.

he loves to swim along the bottom of the pool

~~~ he is a creature of water ~~~

…which was fun to take pictures of too…

I loved these flowers M delivered to my work, surprising me because I have been so sad – they are even more beautiful now that all the lilies have opened their eyes…

I love this plaque my sweet friend D gave me – my favorite thing to see each day when I wake up.

And I love how many of the trains we see have gorgeous graffiti:

And of course I adore Match Game & Richard Dawson, my campy 70s escape-love.

(Here he’s even promoting my profession).

Every time I get knocked down, I get back up again, damnit.  So far I’m doing it, whatever this is that I’m doing. 

Thank you all for your collective conscious loving energies, prayers, and encouragement.
I am literally powered by it all.  I keep going because you push me gently along…so thank you.

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bye bye

Posted in autism, language, tagged , , on October 2, 2010| Leave a Comment »

When Jonah was a baby and toddler, he didn’t wave bye-bye the way other little kids do.  I remember watching these other kids, usually children of Andy’s old friends (a lot of them clustered around Jonah’s age), wondering why Jonah couldn’t do what these kids could.   At one particular birthday party, when a nine-month old waved and said bye-bye to me, I damn near fainted in amazement.  They can do that?

On the other hand, Jonah had his share of unique accomplishments.  He sat wide-eyed with his head up almost immediately after birth and was walking unaided at 8 months old…so it’s not as if, for a short while there, I didn’t have that parental pride of “my kid did something early.”  In fact, Jonah continues to surprise me with new feats every day.  He takes more naturally to water than any kid I’ve ever seen.  He runs like the wind.  And he can hold a tune – pitch and rhythm both very nearly on target.

Still, for the longest time, no bye-bye.  Certainly never spoken, and not gestured either.  It seemed to mean nothing to him.

I don’t recall when he first started with bye bye, but now it’s one of his go-to phrases.  However, instead of embracing its traditional use – to bade someone farewell upon parting – Jonah prefers a less common meaning: please leave now (the please, of course, being optional).

There are many occasions where Jonah will employ the bye bye method of disengaging himself from an annoyance.  The annoyance is usually a person:  me, wanting to five him a bath.  No!  Bye Bye!

His father, asking him if he’s got a poop in his diaper:  Bye Bye!  No!

Children on the playground who, curious about my pebble-hoarding son, stray too close.  Bye Bye!

His teachers undoubtedly hear a lot of bye bye.  And the counter people at McDonald’s.  His babysitters.  The lady who cuts his hair.

Bye-Bye, mama!

I guess he’s making up for all those years he didn’t feel like wrapping his quirky little mind around the concept.

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swim pool

Posted in swimming, tagged , , , , , , , , on August 16, 2010| 1 Comment »

Jonah loves water.  Bath time, “swim pool,” a water-table, the ocean, the slip n slide, waterfalls, a hose…even that birdbath in the picture above…they all hold intense appeal.   I wonder at the why of his water-worship.  Sometimes I think it’s because when I was pregnant with him, I reeeeeaally wanted a water-birth.  (What I got, however, was almost the polar opposite:  nearly 3 days of labor, 2 1/2 hours of pushing, and, as icing on that ridiculous cake, a C-section).

Or maybe he loves water because he’s a Pisces (water sign) named Jonah (who, in the Bible, was swallowed by an ocean whale).

Whatever the reason, Jonah’s just as comfortable in (and under) water as he is walking about breathing air.  Though never taught to swim, he seems to have always known how and will spend hours in the water.  In fact, by the time he was 5, he swam more skillfully than I ever have; I shit you not.  Watch this video from last summer (when he was 7) and see for yourself.  (Jonah’s also at his heaviest weight ever in this clip. Last year we had him on steroids to combat an eye problem which later required surgery, and it caused weight gain – you can see his “moon face” and chunky build).

Nowadays he’s lean, and brown, and has close-cropped almost-blonde hair…

waiting for the bus to summer camp

…but swimming is still on his favorites list.  Our next door neighbor has a disabled child of her own and a small pool in her backyard donated by Make-A-Wish, and she lets Jonah come over and swim any time he wants – which is pretty much any time and all the time.

We’ve tried to take Jonah to local public pools, often with disastrous results. Jonah loves to run around and is admonished frequently by the lifeguards, who are ignorant to the fact that he doesn’t care one iota about silly whistle-blowing authority figures trying to ruin a good time.  And oh, the joy of him deciding to wait until he’s swimming to push out some poopy!  Although we use swimmy diapers (and lately special non-disposable gathered swim pants), it is nonetheless necessary to be hyper-vigilant.   Usually we catch his tell-tale facial expression betraying the impending arrival of a poop; this requires the swiftest and most well-executed plan of action:  swoop in and scoop him out of the pool, hoping he’s not already dripping discolored water, and secret him away to the restroom or some other non-populated area where we can change him.

This is never easy.

Jonah, of course, does not want to get out of the pool under any circumstances.  He squawks, he screeches, and he sometimes cries, all the while fighting us as we dig around in the swim-bag for wipes, a plastic bag, and clean swim diapers & suit.  Then, more often than not, we’ll have him all cleaned up nicey-nice and send him back in to swim, and he’ll do it again.  And again.   Probably it’s the same poop, and he’s pooping that one poop in fun-filled stages.

My heroic husband has singlehandedly taken Jonah to public pools all over Albany, something I have never dared to attempt.  I much prefer the ocean …

Jonah in the ocean

or the falls …

He's a woodland creature

…where, I theorize, if poopy should arrive, I might be able to just let it.   But of course he’s never, ever, even one time, pooped at any natural water source.  Probably he’s just messing with our heads, planning to poop at the most inconvenient times on the most inappropriate occasions.

When we arrive home from swimming anywhere, Jonah will often request a bath.  Really, kid?  More water? On Cape Cod last year, our vacation consisted almost entirely of eating, drinking, sleeping, and immersing in either (a) the ocean (b) the pool, or (c) a bath.   We’d cycle continually from one to the next, like some family who’d spent so long crying agua in wasteland deserts that an abundance of water had become addictively compelling.

I’ve pondered the wisdom of turning his room into a big fish tank and simply tossing him in, but I’ll bet conventional society would frown upon this idea.

Besides, come poopy time, it would be absolute hell to clean.

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open for business

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on August 8, 2010| 3 Comments »

“Grandma is open for business!”  Andy tells our son in the fake-bright voice of exasperation.

He is telling Jonah that yes, we can go see grandma now.  Jonah understands that when something is open for business, he can have it.  When it’s closed, he can’t.

Anything can be open for business or closed – including people (like Grandma), cookies, his scooter, cranberry soda, the TV, the Rensselaerville Falls, or even something that really is either open or closed, like an actual store.

Jonah loves his grandma almost as much as she believes the sun rises and sets on her only grandchild.  Only two things stand a chance at trumping her on Jonah’s request list:  go-see-train and swimming, and even among those prized temptations, grandma usually wins out.

Jonah is eight and a half.  He has autism, and for him, and our family, that means he speaks only in small phrases yet can somehow sing entire songs (usually by Guster) verbatim.

It means children are largely obstacles to Jonah, things to move past or get around, and adults are providers of hot dogs, car rides, games of chase, and “mem-a-made” (lemonade).

It means he will pee pee on the potty when bribed, and will (only very recently) squat and squirt out a tiny poopy on the potty when promised a coveted “black soda” (any kind of cola).  At all other times he wears pull-ups, requiring frequent and oft-stinky changes.

It means he drives us to distraction with his repetitive requests (“Outside?  Outside?  Outside?  Wanna-go-see-train?  Grandma?  Outside?”), but he endears himself just as repeatedly every time he nestles in for a big huge “huck.” (hug).

It means that until he was eighteen months old or so, we had very little idea what the hell was wrong with our kid but we knew that something strange was definitely afoot at the Circle K …yet we kind of dismissed autism as a possibility because “those kids just sit in the corner and bang their heads against the wall” — and, well, our son was so bright, loving, and engaged.  Couldn’t be autism.

It means sometimes there are Saturdays when by 10am I am already “all done” with the weekend and wishing I could go back to work instead of pulling my son away from a crowded playground because he won’t stop shouting “penis!” and all the parents are glaring.

It means I have been drawn inexplicably and unwillingly into a world where surreal is the norm and life is sometimes simply pushing through one minute at a time – sometimes excruciatingly, sometimes hilariously.  Sometimes both.

It means all of this and more, and for this writer, it is high time to write about it.  I was supposed to maybe have a blog on our local daily newspaper’s website, and the editor over there seemed initially interested in my proposal to do so, but now after weeks have gone by, he has yet to answer either (A) my follow-up voice mail or (B) my follow-up-e-mail-regarding-the-follow-up-voice-mail, and I don’t feel like begging the dude.  Plus they’d probably censor me, and fuck that.

This blog, then, about and in honor of Jonah Russell, is “Open for Business!”

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