Good Day for Running

 Going out for a hike was not on my agenda yesterday morning, but the bubs' mom suggested it. I'm glad that she did, because it was a beautiful day. Although it was a little chilly for just short sleeves, I survived.

They ventured out first while I hung back in the parking lot, inside the car. My blood sugar was low and I was waiting for the ham and cheese sandwich and chocolate chip cookie to ''kick in.'' I sat there in the car and watched my continuing-blood-glucose monitoring system send data to my insulin pump. Slowly, but surely, my blood sugar was rising... 61... five minutes later it was 67... another five minutes later it was 73. I wanted to wait until my blood sugar was at a safe level before exercising, since exercising lowers it. To help raise it, I didn't deliver a new bolus (insulin that you take to cover the food that you eat) so that time wouldn't be an issue. I knew that we weren't planning on hiking too long. I also knew that I would be running, as well as walking, so I wasn't concerned about it spiking on me.

I fell asleep and soon woke myself up from my own snoring. I glanced down at my pump and saw that it had climbed to 100. I decided to get going, because I calculated that I must have been snoozing for at least 20 minutes and I didn't want the family to get too far ahead of me. Plus, I didn't want to fall back asleep and miss the whole hike.

Bubs 1 in March '12

Bubs 2 in May '13

I started running down the path and eventually caught up with them about 15 minutes later. They were almost to our favorite spot, but mom was waiting for Bubs 1' break to finish. Apparently, he decided that he was tired and took a seat on a nearby rock.

The run warmed me up so I didn't feel the chilly breeze as much. I put Bubs 1 on my shoulders and continued down the path. We all arrived to our favorite spot and I realized that Bubs 2 was now big enough to walk/run the boardwalk, which is this narrow strip of wooden walkway as you enter a rocky beach front. I had been clicking pictures of Bubs 1 running on this boardwalk for over the past couple of years.

It's become tradition to click some pics of the little guy running on it. Now it's time to get Bubs 2 running on it. He did and I captured his initiation to our somehow-constructed
tradition.

Here are a few of my collection. Enjoy.

First Karate Lesson

PDD-NOS certainly is a pervasive developmental disorder.  I sometimes forget that Bubs 1 has this diagnosis, but it's there. He is a typical four-year old most of the time and that fools his mom and me into thinking that - just maybe - all those professionals made an error on his high-functioning ASD diagnosis. I sometimes wish that they had made an error. Although, we also love the bubs just the way he is.

Bubs 1 recently had his first karate lesson, which didn't quite play out as well as his mom and I had hoped it would. Bubs 1's mom and I hoped that karate would be an activity that he instantly liked. We had read a blurb on how karate helped kids with high-functioning autism participate successfully with neurotypical kids their age. Here it is: http://www.autismkey.com/martial-arts-proven-beneficial-for-individuals-with-autism/

As Bubs 1's parents, his mom and I were likely looking for a seemless transition, but perhaps our expectations were too high. In order to 'warm him up' to the idea of taking karate lessons, we began planting the seeds a couple of days before hand. It seemed to work. The bubs soon adopted our idea that he try karate. He even began demonstrating some quasi-karate moves and kicks. Where did he learn this? We don't know, but he did show interest and this was all that we needed to see.


I wasn't at the karate lesson, because I was at work. His mom took him. I just heard about it after. When his mom explained "how it went" she likened her experience to our experience when Bubs 1 took gymnastics, about a year ago. That painted a clear picture in my mind. Bubs 1's mom shared more.

She said that he was doing well in some areas, but struggling in others. For example, he excitedly  and willingly performed many of the running exercises, but when the karate instructors wanted the bubs to simply make a fist and punch, he had trouble following their request. His mom said that this is when Bubs 1 started to get frustrated. She and I know that when he gets frustrated that he sometimes turns to "odd" behavior. He also becomes rigid. I put the term odd in quotes, because it is obvious and typically goes against the grain. Then the mind games begin when we begin assuming that we know why the other parents are staring, when the reality is that we do not. Other people's stares could be simply empathy and not harsh judgement. However, we sometimes move with the indoctrination of our assumptions and associate their stares with the latter. So when the bub's mom was informing me of some of his odd behavior, i.e. making spitting noises and hitting his head with his new Gi belt, it led me to thinking about the negative thoughts.

The karate instructors were warm, understanding and patient with the bubs. Bubs 1's mom even told me how the other kids, the bub's peers, were even helpful to him. They would help verbally guide him through some of the exercises and simply shrug when he didn't follow their directions. It just seems like a good place for the bubs to be as he learns about the world around him. It is also hard to watch and hear about, because I wish he didn't have to experience struggle (but that's a worry that all parents deal with). The karate instructors convinced Bubs 1's mom that they wanted the bubs back for a second lesson. They said that they're even willing to work with him one-on-one.

We don't want to give in to our fears and allow the bubs to give up. However, we also don't want to scar(e) the bubs. If I've learned anything from my own life thus far, it is knowing that the many bridges in our lives may allow us to cross them for free on one side, but will also likely tax us traveling the other side.

Bubs 2 and his Food

Bubs 2 eats with the appetite of three bubs.

He'll eat anything. He'll even demand some of my food if it is different than what he is already snacking on.

He owns the kitchen. He acts like he knows where all the food is located in the kitchen too. Although his words are garbled (usually because he has a mouth full of food), I inherently understand what he trying to say as he spits fire at me, with his hand pointing. He just points to the counter top assuming that there is something good there. It doesn't matter what it is.

He just wants to eat it.

Today, he screamed at me as he tried to reach for some uncooked potatoes. I was dicing them up for dinner. I knew he wouldn't like them, but I gave him a piece anyway. I felt like a serving wench at Medieval Times restaurant. He ate the raw potato after I tossed it onto his high chair table. He gave me a look and then he smiled. I couldn't believe it. I was also dicing up some raw onion, but I stopped myself. I didn't want to put him through the agony, because I knew that he'd eat the onion too. When he just about 10 months old, he ate an entire meatball sub at his cousin's marching band performance. This kid's going to be an animal.

In saying this, I should also say that I completely understand. I have always had a big appetite myself. I remember eating two Burger King Whoppers when I was over my aunt and uncle's house. I was ten years old. My aunt exclaimed, "Wow, that's some appetite." I then proceeded to down my large fries too.


I still have a big appetite. My wife has to hide her favorite foods around the kitchen so that I won't devour it all. Bubs 2 must be watching me eat. I'm his role model right now. Luckily I'm eating smarter than I did when I was a kid. I haven't had two Whoppers, in one sitting, since that time. However, I did continue to eat a whole lot of other junk. I'm into salads now, but haven't thought to give Bubs 2 any. I'm not sure why, I guess I am assuming that he won't like lettuce. Maybe I'm thinking that it is too much of a choking hazard for him? I've already had to pull food from his mouth on a few occasions, because he packs it until his cheeks bulge.

All this writing about food has gotten me hungry. I think I'll see what's in the fridge. The bubs is asleep now. That means the coast is clear.

The kitchen is mine again.

Good Questions. Keep Them Coming.

Bubs 1 asked, ''Does the sun sleep in the clouds?'' That's a good question.

I am always wondering what the bubs is thinking. He doesn't share his thoughts all that often, but when he does, he asks some damn good questions. I do my best to be an active listener, because there was a period of his life when he wasn't saying a thing. As I look back, especially now that Bubs 2 is here, I'm beginning to realize that Bubs 1 was also quiet in other areas of his life. Bubs 1 didn't have the bounce, that his little brother has, when he was Bubs 2's age. Their mom and I understand that siblings can be different, but this isn't that.

It was at his second-year checkup, when his pediatrician asked his mom and me, ''How many words is he saying?'' Bubs 1's mom and I starred at each other. We wanted to quickly say that he knows over 60 words in sign language, but that wasn't the question. Bubs 1 was only saying two or three words at that stage, but the bench mark called from many more.

His pediatrician offered us the phone number to Birth to Three so that we could have the bubs assessed for developmental issues. A week later we learned that he had a speech delay, which can be an indicator of autism. Sure enough, one year later there was a diagnosis of borderline PDD-NOS.

His mom dived in and called everybody. She accessed, and continues to access, all the resources available for Bubs 1. Not too long after working with him, Bubs 1's ''talking'' began to increase leaps and bounds. My guess is that he was struggling to get the words out, but couldn't. We had to push him to do it. The help we found taught the bubs, and his mom and me, how to encourage his talking - even demand it.

I've likely said the phrase, ''Use your words'' to Bubs 1 a hundred billion times, over the past two years.  He finally did. I feel lucky. Bubs 1 is filling his gaps successfully and gaining ground on his peers. He impresses his pre-school teachers with his clever vocabulary. He is expanding on his imagination. He will pretend too.

I remember watching Bubs 1 on a local playground. He must have been two and a half. He was standing with other kids on the play scape. I watched him struggle to communicate with the other kids. He didn't have the words. Instead, he yelled. The other kids just starred at him. Bubs 1 was acting "different." That's why his mom and I didn't question his ASD diagnosis that, which we learned a few months later.

A few weekends ago, and nearly two years later, we found ourselves on another playground. I clicked a picture, which captured me. It holds all the words written on this blog post. It's one of my favorites, because it shows how well Bubs 1 is progressing. He gives Bubs 2 all the attention that his little brother demands, including pushing him on the swing. It helps Bubs 1 to have Bubs 2 around. Bubs 1 is currently teaching his little brother about "sight words" and colors, on the Amazon Kindle. What better way is there to understand something than to simply apply what you've learned? Their mom wanted to have Bubs 2, because she wanted Bubs 1 to have a best friend.

I think it worked.

Chowder and Friends

 Bubs 1, mom and I returned to the chowder festival this year. We missed last year, because Bubs 2 was too little to subject to the harsh outside winter temps. So this year marks his first chowder fest... and he darn near slept through it all.

I am unsure if this was Bubs 1's second or third time back. We have been living in the area for a total of four chowder fests, or otherwise measured in years and that would make us living here for four years now. I remember the last festival we attended, I think Bubs 1 was 28 or 29 months old. He was able to walk, but not stable enough to simply walk with us yet. He was this year.

Clam chowders and chicken corn chowders seemed to be the dominant chowders out there this year. Both mom and I couldn't eat any more. We had to give away our last three tickets. We had met our chowder limit. Bubs 1 had reached his limit too. He didn't want to sample any of the chowder, but he did enjoy the social interactions. He found a friendly cat, a couple of guys on stilts and his favorite spot - the duck pond. We had duck food from a previous visit to the village (mom saves everything) and Bubs 1 couldn't wait to feed it all to his webbed-foot buddies. He met some new friends, who asked to feed the ducks with his duck food. With mom's encouragement, Bubs 1 agreed. We also encouraged the bubs to ask for the names of his new friends. He then identified himself as Luke Skywalker (again). We've been living as the cast for Star Wars for over a month now. I've apparently been demoted (in my opinion) to C3PO, from once being Han Solo. It was Bubs 1 idea. He also renamed Bubs 2 R2D2, who was once Chewbacca. Mom has always stayed Princess Laya. All of this Star Wars stuff made the parents (or maybe they were grandparents), of Bubs 1's new friends, laugh.

In attempting to make a connection to my past, as most of my blog posts do, I can only remember the Sussex County Farm and Horse Show. There is a picture of me riding a pony in some small corral, with a local volunteer guiding the animal in circles as kids took their turns riding it. It was held at the Sussex County Fairgrounds, which may have been an annual event. Click this, or the previous sentence, for more on this event.

Sussex County, NJ region is known more for it's farming, than it's chowder. I only say this because I ate Cambells New England Clam Chowder as a kid. I used to prefer the Manhattan style, but soon realized what I've been missing - the fat. I'm taking a statin pill now, so at least my cholesterol is safe.

There wasn't a chowder festival where I grew up. The big draw was Vernon Valley Action Park. I remember when that park opened. It was a popular ski mountain during the winters and now a water ride park during the summers. My brother worked there when it opened. I think he worked with the kayak water ride. I never skied, and only went to the summer park a couple of times before moving from that area. I remember my last trip to Action Park. It was my 13th birthday, the Summer of 1983. My mom brought me and my friends down there. She also brought this guy named Fred. I think that Fred was one of the first guys she dated after my father left the house the year before. That last summer's memories in the area used to haunt me. Now is just lurks around in my mind. It no longer increases the adrenalin levels in my blood stream when I happen upon a memory. That summer was more than just memories of a broken home, it was also the time when I entered my teenage years. Good memories too. I remember my friends and I got drunk for the first time (on white wine) at Mike Passante's house. We befriended some girls from around the area and music videos were very popular. I even remember the Eurythmics, Sweet Dreams are Made of These, video. We watched it all the time. It was a great place to be a teenager. It was a mountain lake community and we hung out at the beach each day and down at the lake club house each night.


 To this day, whenever I hear that Eurythmics song, I think of that summer in my life. It sounded like a fun summer, and it was. But it also had a lot of pain. I was slowly losing my friends. My behavior was changing. I my own boss at that time, because my mom worked two jobs and my brother was living elsewhere. I heated up my own frozen dinners for supper and basically ran the       household. My mother would share her anger of my father. She'd also share her anger about his family with me. My mother felt that everyone had turned on her once my dad left. She was scared. She'd make me sleep on the floor, next to the couch in the living room, where she slept each night. She wouldn't sleep in her bed much anymore. I'd have to lay there and listen to her cry herself to sleep. Sometimes she's ask me to ''pray that your father comes home.'' The latter never happened. It was also at that time when I learned that she was planning to leave the area and move us to Roselle, NJ. She told me that the bank was taking our house. I didn't want to move to Roselle. So I decided to move in with my dad. My father lived with my aunt, uncle and cousins. They had a big house and it seemed like a nicer place to live than with my grandmother, in Roselle. I mentioned the ill feelings that I harbored about that almost-Roselle move in a previous blog. Not wanting to live in that town really the core reason why I moved in with my dad and cousins. I even agreed to attend a Catholic school, which is a big indication of how much I didn't want to live in with my mom in my grandmother's house, in... yes, Roselle, NJ.

So I gradually became more removed from my friends, because I guess it is easier to leave people when they aren't that close to you. I didn't consciously think that at the time, but it seems to sound good in hindsight. Another factor that made it easier for me to leave was that an old friend/neighbor returned to the area, that last summer. His name was Kevin Carmody. He turned out to be my nemesis. I beat him in one-on-one basketball games and he hated me for it. He eventually capitalized on my negative behavior, that summer, and increased my distance from my other friends. I soon realized that Kevin was running the show and had a lot of power over me. It really did make leaving much easier.

It wasn't until after 20-some-odd years that I later found out, from those same friends, that Kevin even turned on them. I had already left, but it was validating to hear that Kevin eventually showed his true colors to the others.

I still keep in touch with some of those friends. Time heals all wounds. In fact, one of those friends lives nearby and has a daughter the same age as Bubs 1. We periodically get the kids together and keep updated on each others' lives. I want both Bubs 1 and Bubs 2 to have good friends like this too. I would like to see them enjoy lifetime friends, without the pain. There is a lot of healing from that time in my life whenever I hang out with those friends today. It's powerful to have good friends.

In fact, one of the reasons why the bubs' mom wanted to have Bubs 2 was to create a lifelong friend for Bubs 1. She also has a few of these lifelong friends. Now I'm not saying that there's anything wrong with new friends, we both have many. However, keeping those lifelong friends around is simply a good idea.

Oh, and I'd like for both bubs to enjoy some good chow-da too.

Blizzard of 2013

The Duck

The bathtub duck's day may have finally arrived. No longer is it being used as a bathtub, for either bubs (especially not for Bubs 1 any longer). It used to be gold to both the bubs' mom and me. We loved the air cushion protecting from the cold, hard porcelain, which is typical of most washing areas.  Before the duck, both bubs made their way through the typical progression of bathing basins, including: a newborn tub, a few bathroom and kitchen sinks and even a large plastic bow.

The duck was the final watering hole before graduation to the final washing cauldron - the bathtub. This duck was even lent out to friends for their child, who's  age falls between Bubs 1 and 2. We weren't expecting it back, but after the arrival of Bubs 2, the duck made it's way back to our home. We were glad to see it too.

I remember my mother giving me baths in our bathroom sink. It was an abnormally large, rectangular sink. I remember a picture of me in this sink. I was likely 3 or 4 years old and I seemed to still have had plenty of leg room. I graduated to a shower stall, since we had no bathtub. My memory of this shower stall is scary. It had mildew riddled throughout the walls and floor. The step between the shower and the bathroom floor was an unfinished concrete step. Actually, I couldn't step on it since the top was not smooth. It was an edgy, unfinished top that would have hurt my foot if I did step onto it. My brother tells me that he remembers worms on the floor of our shower. I may have blocked this memory, because that would have freaked me out. My childhood bathroom was a strange one. The door, to the bathroom itself, had glass panes, from top to bottom. It was a bathroom door that you could see through. We had a white curtain that stretched from top to bottom, but not all that private.

I remember, in 2nd grade, drawing a picture in class. I may have written about this picture in a previous blog post. The class gathered around me and started laughing. I didn't know why. Then my teacher, Miss Karnas, walked over to see what the commotion was about. I remember her face expression. It was a hesitant smile. She asked if she could have it. I didn't mind, so I gave it to her. She walked away and that was it. Some time later (maybe even a few years later), when I was older, my mother told me about this picture. In fact, I remember seeing it again at home. Apparently, Miss Karnas called my mother in to talk to her about it. I remember my mother telling me how she had to explain my picture, which happened to be of a person with both female breasts and male genitalia... wearing a cape. My mother said that she had to think of something and told me, that she that Miss Karnas, that the picture may be a result of her and my father exiting the bathroom, individually after their showers, while tying together their bathrobes... and therefore explaining the cape thing. My mother was always quick to explain things.

Thinking back now, I'm wondering how you say something like that to your child's teacher without laughing. Couldn't she have just said that our bathroom door had glass panes? Maybe she did explain that too. My memory is fading. This was about 35 years ago.

Anyway, that bathroom door eventually have two sheets of quarter-inch plywood nailed to both sides of it. As for that duck, it now serves as a toy seat for the bubs. Both bubs are too big to wash in it, but they've apparently made room to play in it.