Update From the Wolf Den

Almost two weeks have passed since our oldest child made his journey Outside. Wolf called us five days after his arrival to say that he has passed "Orientation" status (something all kids must complete to assure theirs and others' safety). Although five days spent in scrubs and flip-flops was a bit on the "wierd" side, according to him, Wolf nonetheless adapted fairly rapidly to life at a Residential School. He is back in his own clothes and has begun to decorate his room, thanks to mom.

His day is rigidly laden with routine, a valuable and necessary component to any program for Asperger children. Seven days a week, the students, who range in age from 12-17, wake up around 6:30 a.m., shower (thank god), eat, and begin one of the four daily group therapy education sessions designed to tackle their daily challenges head on. School also is factored in, and students attend year-round, although less during the summer months.

One day per week Wolf meets individually with a therapist, as well as a once a week meeting with Yukon and I over the telephone. The structure of the therapy surrounds Wolf with 1) no escape from the reality that yes, indeed, he has a need to learn certain skills and mechanisms unique to other kids, and 2) no escape from therapy in general.

Many have asked how long Wolf will attend School. Most students are there for a full 12 months from the time of their admission; some longer, some shorter. The premise is based upon the child's ability to meet the goals and plans of care that are reviewed every 30 days. At this point, we are unable to say how long Wolf will attend; it all rests on his slim shoulders, but he, and we, are confident he will emerge a stronger, more mature young man.

For those who have asked about sending Wolf a letter or postcard; please do. He loves to receive mail and one of his goals is to improve his communication, and letter/postcard writing is a great vehicle to this. If I have not contacted you with an address, please send all Wolf correspondence to our home address, and we will see that it gets to him. Please, as delicious as it may be, send no food items. The school has vending machines, etc. for the kids to use when they earn the money.

Wolf says "hello" to everyone, and wants you all to know he "likes it here." A different kid's voice comes over the line when I answer the phone; a stronger, more confident one. A good-sounding voice.

Boys and Dogs

"Every boy should have two things: A dog, and a mother willing to let him have one." - Robert Benchley

I have mentioned before the correlation between raising a preschool child and a preschool dog. This statement has been proven over and over, especially now that there are just the two of them representing the under-14 age set.

The human child is in a very special phase of life-lessons these days, resisting any interference with sleep, food, recreation and even bodily functions. So he has been without underwear, naps, and nutrition for at least a week now. Fortunately he doesn't seem to mind because the dog is right behind him, reinforcing every "No".

The other day I was down here in the office working on a few things and folding laundry. Yes, I have learned how to type with one hand and fold shirts with the other; see how multi-talented I have become since obtaining SAH status? Anyhow, I kept hearing suspicious "thumps" coming from the upstairs areas. And laughing, which meant that the combination of sounds was leading to no good.

I hollered "What's going on up there?!" To which Bear responded "We are not doing any-ting!" Duh, why do I even bother asking? I leaped up the stairs two at a time to find the miscreants taking the wood stove kindling out of its basket and tossing it about the room. Canine child would seize a piece in his gnarly teeth and begin gnawing and knoshing and leaving toothpick-sized pieces in the carpet, and human child was building what he termed a "castle" on top of the coffee table which he had dragged across the floor to the sofa. Mind you, I had just finished moving furniture around to vacuum, something that only occurs on a full moon. Or a holiday.

Neither even looked up when I appeared, but kept on knoshing and dragging, until I grabbed both. Four eyes looked up with a "whaaaaaatttt?!" And what did the speaking member of the family say?

"Jasper did it."

Poor dog, he better learn to talk soon or he's in real trouble!

Tour d'Anchorage

Ride on, Anchorage! Today was designated "Bike to Work" day, and hundreds of folks took to the 120 miles of paved bike trails and headed off to their respective places of employment. My firm-fannied Yukon was among the dozen or so VA employees who braved a chilly, windy day for the sake of a day's respite from fuel costs and the gain of clear-headed returns from the office.

Yukon utilized Bike to Work day as his own kick-off to summer and his thrice-per-week ride to work via the bike. With diesel reaching $4.59 a gallon today (the VW Jetta TDI still is the best deal, however), and Old Betsy the Explorer needing a break now and then from the travails of travel, Yukon was even more eager to get out on the trails.

We frequently bike to local parks and mountain bike trails during the summer; the paved pathways are flat, wide, and perfect for kids and parents alike to roll along with relative ease. Plus, we can't lose them to a turn or pothole like we can on a trail. Our usual ride takes us from our home in East Anchorage along the path West towards Goose Lake Park (www.muni.org/parks), where the Paddleboat Cafe' delivers homemade ice cream sandwiches with a dash of local flavor. At about a half-hour ride, it is a perfect halfway point for little Bear, who gets tired of his position in the bike trailer and wants us to "hurry up". We play in the sand and on the equipment, watch people swimming (yes, for a few brief weeks, swimming is refreshing rather than fatal), and then start back, taking a cut through Russian Jack Springs Park and the local 9-hole golf course.

Sometimes we have to detour because of the moose, but on many occasions only one of us will see him/her browsing among the birch, and usually after we have gone past the point of no return, so we just continue on. Most of our local moose are used to bikers and don't appear bothered. Until the Rut, of course.

Cycling in Anchorage is probably the best I have encountered thus far in my limited exposure to bicycle commuting/pleasure riding. And the best part is those same trails turn into 120 miles of prime Nordic skiing once the snow falls; lights and all. Some hardy souls cycle to work year-round, and many ski to work on the groomed surface. Nice. We may be rough around the edges, but Anchorage has cornered the market on getting places by your own power.

A Nest Half Full

"All of life's experiences are valuable. I may not be aware at the time, but experiences and how I deal with them make me who I am. I am molded by both the painful and the joyful happenings in my life." -Coping With Caring, Lyn Roche

Yesterday I woke up with a start when the alarm went off at 6:45 a.m. For a moment I panicked, thinking that we were in real trouble for getting to school on time. Then I remembered.
For the first morning in a long time I had no earthly reason to get up before the paper boy. Or my husband. No reason to fuss over a sandwich of baloney and mustard.
Things around here, while peaceful and serene, are a bit out of sorts. I am reminded of just how out of sorts when I set the table or make my grocery list. Three, Erin, not four.
I remember from my work with family caregivers how lost they felt when their loved one moved into a long term care facility. They would report they had trouble filling the spaces of time previously dedicated to direct care tasks. It's an odd feeling; relishing extra time yet not being too sure what to do with it.
But it is nice to read the whole newspaper with my coffee before night falls.

How Much Do Mamas Love?

An exerpt from "Mama, Do You Love Me?" by Barbara M. Joosse...

"I'll love you until the umiak flies into the darkness, till the stars turn to fish in the sky, and the puffin howls at the moon."

"But what if I turned into a polar bear, and I was the meanest bear you ever saw and I had sharp, shiny teeth, and I chased you into your tent and you cried?"

"Then I would be surprised and very scared. But still, inside the bear, you would be you, and I would love you."

For all the questioning of ourselves we do, for all the doubts and guilt and heartbreak and tears; we know we love our children. No matter what wild animal they turn into.

We know their potential even when no one else does. We know who is behind that snarly face even even when their actions are hurtful to us. For they are our children; part of us, and thus worthy of our unconditional, unwavering love.

But we let them go. We allow them the freedom to make the choice to turn into that bear, walrus, or musk ox. But we will welcome them home when they change back. Always.

"...Because you are my Dear One."

Wolf's Moment of Truth

On Tuesday morning, the email account seemed to be fuller than usual. When all the incoming mail finally appeared, up came three messages from CHYC.

"We are pleased to tell you that a spot is all ready for your son, we are making travel plans for Friday." Friday. 72 hours. Three days. 14 years.

After about month of soul-searching and praying and finger-crossing, Wolf, accompanied by Yukon, made a life-changing move Outside to begin a new journey towards managing his life successfully. The school, known across the northwest for its unique approach towards teaching kids with Asperger Syndrome, had an opening, and we took it.

For those who have known my son, and me, for some time, you will know some of the struggles and challenges he and I have faced over the years. I don't think even I recognized the depth of those challenges until I began filling out the pages and pages of health history for the school, and became exhausted at what we had tried to do for so long.

Wolf's life thus far has been difficult; sometimes even impossible. Asperger's sufferers live in a world that is different from ours, and conforming to boundaries and rules that make little sense is a daily struggle, with or without help. The goal is to introduce Wolf to a new way of thinking and living and succeeding; to embrace the bright, articulate, and creative young man we all know he can be, not in spite of the Asperger's, but because of it.

The program will last at least a year, give or take a few weeks or months. It is all up to him, with our support along the way. He knows what he has to do, he knows how many people love him, now he has to know how to love himself for who he is as a Child of God, with a purpose and a meaning to his very existence.

Yukon said Wolf was excited to meet the kids on the unit. He settled in well and is looking forward to learning to ride horses, river raft, and talk books with the other boys.

When the guys left with our friend and pastor for the airport, Wolf leaned out of the front seat window and held his hands in the shape of a heart.

Me too, buddy. Me too.

The Morning Sickness - Sickness

Made you look, didn't I?

This was the only way I could aptly describe the ill that has been sweeping among our friends, and now myself, this past week. Since last Saturday I have been stricken to the confines of the bed, couch, and on one occasion, floor, as the nasty bug knocked me flat.
Poor Yukon was, of course, assigned to all aspects of home management, which he performed admirably. There is nothing like watching a daddy do mommy stuff with mommy watching, however.
"Uh, dear, he's playing outside in his underwear."
"Did you give them anything resembling vegetables tonight?"
"Sweetie, please do not let Bear eat jalapeno Cheetos for dinner, even if he wants them."
I believe one night Bear went to bed around 11 p.m. (you must remember that is when it gets dark around here now). Dad and Wolf stayed up and watched "Wild Wild West, the Series". Mom, Mom who?
I remember when I was a kid and my mother would go somewhere on a Saturday, or when she was sick, Dad would make the two things he knew how to in the kitchen; cheese sandwiches with butter and scrambled eggs. Then we had to go with him to clean the garage.
I think the jalepeno Cheetos - outside in your underwear thing sounds a whole lot better, don't you?