From the Wolf Den: Quick Update

Today was Team Treatment Review Day, where I sit on one end of the phone lines and listen to the Team, and Wolf, talk about his month's progress and goals.

After a pretty smooth few weeks, I was interested to see how things had progressed, especially since Yukon was present for family therapy last week while I was at a meeting.

Wolf has reached Level II at Mountain High Facility, big time cool! He has done extremely well, reached his goals between 80-98% of the time, and seems to be happy. Yes, friends, Wolf is happy. Whoa. He's worked really hard, so Yukon and I are planning a trip at the end of April to see his smiling face and buy him a graduation present to satisfy his voracious reading appetite.

Any guesses?

From the Wolf Den: School Days, School Days....They Will Go On a Bit Longer

I always seem to get phone calls from people related to Wolf's current educational cause who want me to drop everything I am doing, RIGHT NOW, and talk over the endless set of issues about getting this kid graduated from high school.

Today I wanted to scream. And cry. And almost did both, but only ended up doing one. Those of you who know me best will know.

After hours of calling, researching, and cleaning the bathrooms (I do chores when I'm on the phone; it keeps me focused. Usually, however, I fold laundry or empty the dishwasher. Today felt like toilets), Yukon and I decided that it would not be in Wolf's best interest to shuttle him to Alaska for a three-day intensive of test-taking, beginning (get this) April 2.

Reasons were many, and took me a bit of time to create a list for the cadre of interested parties:

1. The boy would have to fly back to Alaska alone, unless one of us flew down to get him. Expensive and stressful, no matter the mode of travel and directness of flight.

2. Wolf has not been to our home except for one short day last summer. He has not slept in our house since 2008. We haven't yet even approached the subject of appropriate behavior inside the family unit. I cannot imagine how that could jive with a stressed-out 18 year-old who is beyond nervous at taking a test.

3. We'd have to pay for Wolf to fly here, and return to Denver. Uh, wow. I didn't exactly budget for that this spring.

4. He's not ready. Emotionally, mostly. He can pass the test with flying colors (8th grade level of material, so I've been told), but emotionally? Goodness, we have a bunch of work to do, there.

Wolf has every chance of succeeding and receiving his diploma, and we'll help him get it. But not until the school district administers the exam again, in October. We advocated for this, since Wolf is not on the fast track to higher learning, just yet. What he is on is a wonderful path of self-assurance, independence, and social practices.

Way, way more important than a piece of paper handed out in May.

We're going to give him his own "family graduation" however, and it's gonna be great.

He's earned it.

Gimme Some Alaska

This week was long. Still recovering from whatever chest crud is moving among our friends and family, it was hard to motivate. I found myself cancelling things, shifting appointments around, and generally feeling as if I was working in a fog.

Then the Iditarod started.

It is hard not to get enthused by 66 teams of sled dogs, 12 dogs each, taking off for a race that will carry them almost 1,000 miles to Nome, Alaska.

After a two-year hiatus from the Last Great Race, I decided to jump back in and acquired my media credentials and dutifully attended the media briefing last Wednesday, coughing and hacking my way through an hour of Iditarod information. But it felt good.

Things felt even better yesterday as I layered myself with polypro, fleece, and GoreTex and headed for the Starting Line.

Gimme some Alaska and I'll be fine.

Book Progress, In Spite of It All

The Book marches forward, despite sickness, new dog, and an ever-inflating calendar of events and activities. We spent the weekend doing absolutely nothing in order to recharge our family batteries.
But I did manage to meet with my editor last night, and I feel more in order this morning.

Go check out the Book Blog, why don't you, and see why I love my editor.

Happy Monday.

It's a Lazy, Crazy, Winter in Alaska

This is how we all feel, today. What a crazy, crazy week.

Riley was "fixed" yesterday, so he's spending the day relaxing in the luxury of his crate. Jasper is wildly excited to have his new companion home, so much so,  he spends quality time staring into Riley's crate, wagging his stubby tail.

I am homebound with a cold, but still intercepting phone calls from Mountain High Facility and the Anchorage School District to try and figure out a way (c'mon, people, this just shouldn't be so complicated) to graduate Wolf from high school.

Yukon is still playing catch up from our trip to Hawaii, but now has planned a business trip to Barrow next week (I think I'd rather go back to Hawaii) to meet with the tribal college.

Bear is anxious about spring, and seems to relish driving us nuts lately. His teacher says all first graders become wild animals in February. I will choose to cling to her wisdom, and hope "this too, shall pass."

Maybe I'd really, really like to be shut up in my own crate for the solitude such a position will afford.

We Needed Each Other

That's what I keep telling myself. But he's really, really cute, isn't he?
Meet Riley: Part dog, part squirrel, all personality.

"...We've Got All the Strength We Need In the Shape of Us"

I'm following the journey of so many families in crisis over their children.  Some I have known intimately since childhood, some only recently.  All of them, however, involve children on one spectrum or another, suffer from one disability or another - and parents agonize about their futures, down on their very knees tonight, hoping and praying for life to look just a little bit different tomorrow.

Our children's disabilities have shaped not only they, personally, but everyone around them, and not entirely in a negative way. Please, please, understand this. What is most chaotic and sad about families like ours and yours and others who I cannot name, is also the most beautiful.

The shape of Us. Twisted, but smooth. Narrow, but strong. Complex, but clear.

"Hold my hand
  hold my heart
  let go your fears
  I will always be here."