Don't Eat Us!

Linked here is an article I wrote, published in the Nov/Dec issue of Autism Aspergers Digest.  After we discovered that many of Caleb’s developmental delay issues were epilepsy related, We had a desire to share our journey with as many people as possible.

The article is entitled, The New Standard of Care in Diagnosing Autism Spectrum Disorders.  Please, check it out. Share it with any of your friends you think may benefit. Share it on Facebook if you want. The more parents who know these epileptic disorders often hide themselves behind the veil of an autism diagnosis, the better.

From www.autismdigest.com

In the last two years, Alicia and I have heard from several people who have children with a disorder similar to Caleb’s. And because they are getting proper treatment, their health is improving dramatically.

Caleb’s story is helping other children! What a blessing!

It all started after I’d brushed my teeth, nestled into the comfortable little memory fold of my Tempurpedic and found myself looking forward to some REM’s… 

About fifteen minutes later, I hear the bathwater running. Then a splash. Then a bigger splash. I sit up (an unpleasant action when dealing with memory foam) and I’m like, “What’s going on?”

A giant red birthing ball is bobbing in a filling bathtub. And Alicia is hanging onto the tub’s side like Stallone in Cliffhanger.

At this point I make rookie mistake #1: I ask a question during a contraction. “So, what you doing in there?” Then, “Huh? I can’t hear you over the running water.”

She tells me what she’s doing, and I’m thinking Braxton-Hicks, or the baby’s in a funny position or something. After all, her due date isn’t for two more days, right?

I fall back asleep. Sort of.

“Nick, I might be going into labor.”

“Sounds good. When you feel like you need me, let me know so I can help out.” And a minute later,

“…ZZZzzzZZZzzz…”

In retrospect, I feel a lot like the apostles in the garden of Gethsemane. What were they asked to do? Stay awake. Pray. That’s all.

But did they do it? No, they fell asleep. And now, until the sun burns out, people everywhere are going to read the story about how Peter and John opted to have a catnap rather than help during one of the most important moments in human history. They can’t blame their narcolepsy on tryptophan–I’m pretty sure unleavened bread at the Last Supper didn’t have any. Maybe it was the wine. That’s possible, I suppose.

My point is really this: Dad (or soon to be Dad), don’t be an idiot, like me.  Act like every contraction is an earthquake, and you alone are responsible for keeping your wife from falling objects. Even if you’re pretty certain it’s only indigestion.

Because it might not be indigestion. You’re wife might be at five centimeters. And then you’ll be wrong, like I was, forced to humble yourself in a blog post like this.

*****So many people wished us well after the birth of Ruthann. I want to say thank you. We feel very blessed that so many friends keep our family in their prayers!*****

This morning we were blessed to welcome our daughter into this world. Because I’ve been up for two days straight, I’m lacking wit. (I’ll try to recover by tomorrow.)

Here’s a couple pictures of our daughter, Ruthann Evelyn.

We rejoice in Ruthann’s birth, not primarily because Ruthann is healthy, or that she was born to a mother and father who love her, or that she is already bringing happiness to so many in this world;

we rejoice because Christ knitted her together in Alicia’s womb, forming her inward parts, and Christ ordained every day of her life before a single one of them ever came to be;

We praise God for a daughter that is fearfully and wonderfully made!

The other day I found Alicia attempting to rearrange bedroom furniture, pack suitcases, vacuum, and organize non-perishables.

“Are you nesting?” I asked.

“I’m not nesting!” she said, slumping to the ground. “I can’t MOVE to nest.”

It’s true. She can’t move. And I feel horrible about it. So, I told her I’d like to be proactive.

Then she started talking about the need to rub her feet, press on pressure points in the ankles and give back rubs to quicken the effacement process.

“Hogwash,” I said. “Old wives’ tales. Let’s try the old husband’s tales for a change.”

You see, I did a lot of scientific research…sort of unscientific…more like brainstorming…okay, it was actually just a way to appear empathetic and try out a theory I once heard from a dad who heard it from his grandpa who heard it from his grandpa’s great-grandfather.

Old Husband’s Tale: If the biological father of an unborn child nurtures the growth of his mustache such that it is visible through the embryonic fluid, placenta, and abdominal epidermis, the unborn child will become excited and cause an effacement frenzy, resulting in rapid dialation and delivery.

I started a mustache. Again, fatherly, selfless effort.

It’s been almost two weeks, and I”m beginning to wonder if I should have started closer to the second trimester.

Or maybe conception.

I took a close-up pic, realizing some men like myself might benefit from a product like mustachescara. It’s like mascara but for a ‘stache.

I don’t get it. This is a picture of my dad. This is like three hours after he shaved.

So far, our baby girl is unresponsive.

This is me giving a last-ditch effort. Caleb gave it a shot as well, just for good measure.

I fear the worst: I may be rubbing feet tonight…

Why is it,

whenever I babysit my children,

they misbehave???

I must say, today was a most splendid day to have afternoon tea with my darling wife.  A date!  Most certainly Lady Elegant’s Tea Room offered us more than adequate accommodations for both hearty conversation and sugary indulgences.

First, when we contacted our nanny to provide care for our children for New Year’s Eve day, she responded in the affirmative. After she arrived (from the backyard, she’s a Saint Bernard, of course) we traversed the northern Twin Cities in horse and carriage.

Simply delightful! Though the bumpy ride gave my innards quite the jostle, we managed to enjoy the journey. We held hands, my naked palm resting atop her lacen glove. It was a regal yet romantic ride, the whole way.

It wasn’t until the grand duke announced our arrival that I learned I had underdressed.  How dreadful to have misplaced my tweed jacket, monocle and top hat only yesterday. Still, I saved face because my table etiquette is nearly flawless.

We ordered the Keemun Panda black tea. I was much surprised to find such fruity depth and complexity within the blend. My palate was instantly rewarded with an explosion of exotic spice, all wrapped within the warmth of a dainty porcelain cup. The steaming reddish tea even took cream rather well; a necessity for an experienced tea connoisseur such as myself.

Despite my attempts to focus upon my sense of taste, my eyes continually discovered ways to distract my tongue buds. Indeed, the only thing steeped longer than our Keemun Panda tea was my adoring gaze into the beauty of Lish’s hazel eyes. But, like a true lady, she did not flinch at the conspicuousness of my fascination. Instead she batted her feathery lashes, motioned her wrist in ways a beauty pageant contestant would envy, and smacked her lips after bites of scone in a way that sent chills down my well-groomed spine.

One last thing I must share. Indulge in this, friends! You may judge my wife, Alicia, to be a proper and refined woman, engaging in etiquette fit for the queen’s dining quarters.  Not so! At one point, after removing a morsel of scone with her translucent, ivory incisors, she accidentally dropped her scone upon the floor. “Oh, my beloved scone!” she said.

And then, as though it were the most natural of responses to take, she bent over, retrieved the scone from the floor, applied jelly, and continued to nourish herself with it like it was fresh out of the oven.

A woman unashamed of getting a little dirt on her scone, that’s the woman for me.

Finally, I must share a picture of my Lady Elegant’s Tea Room guestbook entry:

Now, if you would excuse me, I’m going to my garage, to power lift, to prove that despite finding enjoyment in afternoon tea with my wife, I do possess almost supernatural levels of testosterone that allow me to dead lift hernia-inducing amounts of iron.

Home school schedules have been a little erratic so far. Part of the reason is that Caleb is attending public school kindergarten half-time, and Lucy is in a Christian Montessori two days a week. Also, Alicia’s super-duper pregnant. And, I just finished a semester of creative writing courses at a nearby college.

Nevertheless, we’re seeing substantial gains when we put in the effort.

Some of the benefits we love:

1) Focusing on problem areas—there is no classroom of other students. If Caleb is struggling with penmanship, we work on that. We don’t need to worry about the progress of anyone but Caleb or Lucy.

2) We as parents stay the primary influence on our children—we teach material that is consistent with our values. Teachers, other children, and strangers have less of an opportunity for sharing values we don’t agree with.

3) Flexible schedule—Lucy needs to nap by 1PM or the town’s tornado siren goes off. At home, it’s easy to avoid educating her during nap time.  Lucy prefers 5:30AM for lessons, her normal wake-up time (don’t you feel for us???).

4) Lish and I get to learn new subject matter—We’re currently reading a book on the history of the world. Both of us are college educated, and yet some of the events we’re learning about are new to me.

Some challenges:

1) Our patience—I’m often preoccupied with dentistry or story writing or other responsibilities. Lish is nesting and almost entirely immobile.  If we’re short on patience, lessons become a crescendo of verbal frustration.

2) Getting Caleb and Lucy to recognize we’re teachers—Let’s face it: we’ll always be Mom or Dad, even when we’re teachers, too. It makes for a sometimes unexpected dynamic.

3) Time and organization—A lot of both is required to make home school fruitful. Up to this point our commitment has only been luke-warm. But we’ve found that more preparation=more progress, and that keeps us motivated.

4) Meeting worldly expectations—Lucy and Caleb don’t live and function in a bubble. At some point they’ll be taking standardized tests for college, working jobs, and having relationships with other people. And for those things, the world will determine Caleb and Lucy’s success by how they meet the world’s standards. Therefore, giving them the tools to jump through academic hoops is an unwelcomed necessity we must incorporate into our schooling.

As we continue to do more research and hone our home school plan, I hope to share more about the resources we find useful (and would love you to share yours as well). It’s going to take more discipline in the coming months (because the baby is coming soon) to keep up our curriculum, but I’m confident we can do it.

With enough caffeine, anything is possible.

The Christ Child–born fully man and fully God–came most humbly to Earth. Christ chose a delivery place filled with the filth and stench of barn animals. He could have chosen a palace or hospital.  Christ chose to make his infant-wrapped divinity known to pagan astrologers and unkempt sheperds.  He could have revealed his birth to emperors or reality television audiences.

Oh, Christmas!  The glorious beginning of God’s perfect plan of redemption. For sinners.  Like me.

Caleb.

Lucy.

Alicia.

Because as wonderful as the story of Christ’s birth is, we don’t celebrate it primarily because it’s his birthday.

My family celebrates Christmas because Christ’s birth was the most glorious way to bring about his death.  And his death?

That was to purchase the greatest gift of all–salvation.

Because I haven’t found the time to discuss in detail how we have implemented aspects of a home school curriculum for our kids, I’d like to share a project Caleb and I finished recently.

The project is called:

CALEB’S FIRST STORY

First I taught him to brainstorm for–

Characters–Caleb, Mommy, Daddy, Katniss (0ur cat), Baby, Wall-E, Eva

Setting/Place: Outer Space

Bad Guy: Monster’s, scary ones (I asked him to describe them)–Dark, Big Teeth, Claws, Big clas on arms and legs, Big fur, Big (Tall).  Color–Dark in dark time. Smell: Icky-Garbage. Sound: Big Roar, Low Voice, say mean things

Conflict--Mean guys try to eat nice guys

Resolution/End: Monster’s die, nice guys shoot them with lasers and rocks

Naturally, I was giddy with excitement for CALEB’S FIRST STORY.  Not only did I get to enjoy my favorite hobby of all-time, writing, but I got to enjoy it with Caleb.

Here is an excerpt:

  Then the monsters attacked.  Everyone jumped in the rocket.  Eva had a laser but she didn’t give it to Caleb because he wasn’t big enough for a laser yet.

     So Caleb quickly shut the rocket door and started the engine.  The monsters crawl up into the space rocket’s fire.

     And they die because it’s too hot.  Their claws fall off, their fur burns and the icky stuff dies, their eyes come out and their eyelashes and their teeth come out too.

All of the plot, conflict, character development, and resolution were from Caleb’s verbal descriptions.  I simply had to add conjunctions to make it read more smoothly.  Also, he had a few tense issues I corrected (I don’t teach that until age six).

We’ve been working on our illustrations.  And recently we’ve been very busy with writing poetry.  I’ll share some poems soon.

My favorite part of working with Caleb on writing?  ”What do you want to be when you grow up Caleb?”  ”Writer, like Daddy.  Reader too.”