Fall to Winter

It was a last chance yesterday, to explore the outdoors before winter's frozen breath left whiteness upon what was brown grasses and tree limbs before. We took a sunny afternoon, fresh with breezes and sharp smells of autumn, and turned it into both a shakedown for the upcoming frigid season and a freebie family day.

One of the things I love most about being a writer in Alaska is the sheer volume of opportunity presented to us. An invitation from the Eagle River Nature Center to visit with naturalists and peruse the 10 miles of trail nestled within Chugach State Park seemed the perfect way to spend a Friday afternoon and Yukon was able to join us, so we set off, mittens and hats packed, for the 40 minute drive northeast.

While the rest of the greater Anchorage area was awash in a dusty windstorm sweeping down from the north, the Center seemed immune to the biting breezes and therefore we were spared a bitter windchill. Bear enjoyed looking at the interpretive displays while I chatted with staff and thoroughly entertained the winter caretaking couple from Florida with his stories of adventure.

A short hike to a beaver pond afforded gorgeous views of the lodge, surrounding lake and incredible mountains, and made us once again darn glad we live where we do.

This grandeur was, of course, noticably affected by our son's whining about cold feet, 'frozen' hands (we are entering a delightful phase of natural consequences; he refused to wear his mittens) and a hungry stomach. After taking a few final steps down the original Iditarod trail that leads some 26 miles across Crow Pass towards Girdwood, we turned back to snack on our pretzels and hot russian tea (a favorite drink from my youth made with instant iced tea, Tang, lemonade, and cinnamon, allspice, and cloves).

Not too bad for an inagural hike during the season of change. Bear actually fell asleep in the car on the way home, something that doesn't happen too often anymore. We consider this a successful trip in that regard.

Dracula's Birthday Party

We are so fortunate to have delivered a child near a holiday. The benefits are endless; candy, costumes, endless supply of game ideas, funky decorations. Halloween, I am sure, is the perfect season to apply the birthday party concept seasoned with a dash of extra fall fun.

Bear turned five last week and hosted his Halloween/Pumpkin/Birthday party on Saturday. I am a traditionalist; I believe in birthday parties that require participation and imagination on everyone's part, and this year was no exception. With a little help from Yukon, the day was a success.

Dracula is Bear's costume of choice this year, so far too early in the day he was decked out in his brother's cape and wearing his "scary teeth" (that glow in the dark, too), waiting for his guests to arrive. Not unlike his mother, he worried and fretted as the clock drew closer to party time, hoping that no one forgot, or got sick (a more likely issue this year), or just didn't want to come.

Fortunately none of these happened, and seven preschoolers had a blast playing 'Pass the Pumpkin', 'Pin the Nose on the Jack-O-Lantern', and listening to Yukon read a story about a scarecrow. A Ghost-Robot cake (all I had was black licorice to decorate that ghost, so it looked kind of mechanical, hence the name), some great goodies for all, and the day ended successfully.

Our friends had gone to Hawaii the week before and brought Bear a few gifts, too. As you can see he has a great future in the Islands. I can't get the shirt or necklace off the child.

Update From the Wolf Den: My Head Makes My Leg Hurt

All this flu and coughing, sneezing, and general misery, plus a very funny email from one of my oldest friends reminds me that these children with Asperger Sydrome treat ills and spills a bit different from the rest of us.

My friend D., who never any sort of complainer about illness or injury has, like me, a son whose AS prevents him from adequately describing injury or sickness.

Here is how a conversation might go with a child with AS and being sick:

Mom: "Gee, you don't look good (first mistake). Are you sick?"

Child: "Yeah." (Cough, hack, clutch chest, grab kneecap)

Mom: "Where do you feel sick?"

Child: "I don't know."

Mom: "You are sniffling, is it your nose? Your throat? Your cough?"

Child: "Yeah. And my leg hurts." HUH?!

No fever, nothing beyond a mild case of the sniffles, and one would think TB had come to town. Unable to describe his symptoms to anyone, much less a doctor who was not familiar with Asperger's, our sick days were more out of caution than necessity. I learned pretty quickly how to rule out some illnesses while ruling in others, relying on my mother-instincts rather than his roundabout descriptions of how he felt. The pediatrician's nurse and I became fast friends, as with the pharmacist at Costco.

Apparently, most of the boys in Wolf's unit have this issue as well. Thank goodness for their RN, E., who seems to have an uncanny knack for discerning vague symptoms, assigning a name, and applying the appropriate remedy. Perhaps it is his gender; a male nurse, he sees things very clinically and the guys respect his knowledge, especially when he throws out a scientific name. Rhinitis sounds much better than just a cold. Wolf eats it up.

Wolf did have a nasty cold last week and seems to be well on the road to recovery. We have been impressed with his fortitude to get over the bug and now he's back to his usual schedule.

If only I could get his little brother to stop whining for popcicles, now, we'd be all set.

It's Coming....I'm Sure

I'm sure snow is not far off...Yukon has set himself upon finding and installing the Christmas lights.

We woke up this morning to find little scatterings of sleet on the deck and cars and needed gloves and warm coats to get to church. A raw wind was blowing from the southeast and we could see the snow clouds dropping lower and lower over the Chugach foothills.

Wanting to get out for a little exercise and fresh air to keep further sickness at bay (so far only Bear has succumbed to H1N1), we went hiking at nearby Baxter Bog with our trusty canine. One of our favorite neighborhood parks, Baxter Bog makes us seem like we are in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness; its location is in a lovely valley that keeps all manner of traffic noise silent, and the mountains rise up over the tops of the birch trees, a truly lovely location. We can fool ourselves into thinking we are much further out than we really are and we love that.

Anyway, back to the Christmas lights. In Alaska, as with much of the snowier areas of the U.S., ice build-up on the houses and deck railings can severely curtail any exterior lighting projects closer to the holiday season, so we do it before the snow falls. Of course, he may get only as far as untangling the knot that mysteriously appears every year.

We'll see how far he gets.

Baby, We'll Miss You...

This is it. Chapter 18, page 281 of the Better Homes and Gardens Baby Book, published in 1965: "At five years of age, it is generally considered appropriate to mark the end of the baby period."

This book and I have been friends for almost 16 years. Dug out of the innards of a thrift store's bookshelves, the retro-parenting manual has led me out of the depths of parenting despair more than once, and not just by its sage advice.

As a twenty-something, newly pregnant wife struggling to make a traditional family out of a disjointed marriage, this book provided refuge to a quieter mode of life that I could, however delusional, imagine myself within. A favorite of over 2,500,000 mothers wouldn't steer me wrong, would it? Especially during the June Cleaver era.

Nearly ten years later, pregnant again with a sense of joyous anticipation I had not felt the first time, the Baby Book and I became reacquainted, this time to laugh at the sketches of cloth diapers, bath tables, and 1960's maternity wear.

While much (okay, most) of the child-rearing practices would be considered archaic today, I still kept my copy, even passing it along to others so that they, too, could enjoy its delightful and amusing, prose, especially over a glass of merlot.

But I don't have any use for it anymore, because I don't have a baby. I have a little boy and a big boy and a house filled with Legos and toy cars and lightsabers. No more baby blankets, footed jammies, or sippy cups. We've gotten rid of the board books, outlet covers, and even the toddler car seat.

But I won't give away my Baby Book. Our relationship is too close and too intimate to allow somebody else to caress its worn cover and turn the now musty-smelling pages. I'd feel disloyal, as if I were throwing away a partner.

I wonder if the other 2,499,000 other mothers felt the same way?

Happy Birthday, little, er, big Bear.

Day Three of Fever Relievers

Bear continues to heat things up around here with the telltale fever symptom of a dreaded flu. He has graduated from hanging out in his bed to lounging on the living room couch, resting his aching head upon the 'sick pillow'. So named by Wolf, this brightly adorned pillowcase was made by an elderly neighbor in Port Angeles many years ago and has comforted sick kids many times. Bear feels much better knowing his big brother and he both benefitted from the pillow's ministrations.

So far Yukon and I are holding our own healthwise, but during our early morning call with Wolf we discovered he, too, was sick. Fortunately though, CHYC has the Swine Flu swab test kit and so they promptly tested him (negative so far, thank goodness).

With two kids down, no matter how far apart geographically they might be, Mom's caregiver radar goes up. We're checking in, soothing, and generally trying to make everybody feel better.

Bear's big worry is that he will miss his birthday parties; one at preschool on Friday and the big bash here on Saturday. It is, in fact, dominating his every thought and we are hard pressed to assure him that the party will go on, even if it is later.

Wolf, on the other hand, seemed worried that he would be placed on an all-liquid diet that would make him lose weight. I assured this child as well, reminding that he only got that diet if he was puking.

Carrying on!

Oh, Dear

I should have known something was wrong when the child wouldn't eat his Go-Gurt. The slimy yogurt that comes in a plastic sleeve for the pleasure of slurping its gooey goodness did little to entice Bear for breakfast today. I chalked it up to being Monday. I did not for a minute think he was sick; that is, until I picked him up from preschool.

Pallid beyond belief, with dark circles under his eyes, I could not believe the ghost-faced little boy I was collecting was the same I had dropped off a mere two hours prior. "My forehead hurts, Mommy" was all he said when I asked if he felt okay. Uh-oh.

Double uh-oh when he followed that up with "I think I need a nap". Yes, that is certainly cause for alarm. Bear is now curled up in his bed, stuffed animals wedged all around him, shaking and sleeping at the same time. A dose of ibuprofin seemed to curb the initial fever, but only time will tell if we are dealing with the dreaded scourge of Swine Flu or some other virus. Poor little guy, and his birthday is Friday.

Given that Anchorage kids seem to come down with any number of viruses during the fall/winter months due to the fact that every window is kept tightly closed and people proximity is close, it is no wonder. We know two families who have been slammed hard by the H1N1 in the past week, and I am not looking for any reason to join them.

I'll be disinfecting the house, car, and dog now, should anyone need me.