I began to brainstorm. What did I want to say in the 500 words I was alloted?

And then I closed my eyes and thought back to my emotional state through Caleb’s earliest years. I pictured myself being interviewed by child psychologists, followed by weeping. Surfing the internet for hope, all the while weeping. Discussing Caleb’s unknown future with Alicia, the two of us weeping.

The weeping. It was the one constant in those earliest years of struggles. But why? Why did I weep?

Because of the lies.

So that’s what I decided to write about–the lies. As I began to write I told myself, “If there are any other dads out there reading AAD, struggling with the same lies I struggled with for so long, I want to comfort them. I want them to have the truth that I wish I hadn’t been forced to discover on my own.”

Check out the article:  All-Star Autism Dads Article from www.autismdigest.com.  My article is the second of three, but read them all. The other dads write amazing truths.

If one dad can find hope in my struggles, if the strain on even one marriage can be eased from my words, then my prayer will have been answered.

What’s that you say, email? There is a gymnastics gym that will take my children for 3.5 hours for a nominal fee, that my wife and I might get some time to hold hands and play lip-tag in an effort to stoke the dying flames of passion? I’ll take it!

So I planned the date. Drop Lucy and Caleb off. Let them bounce around on dangerous equipment with teenage supervision. Go to Red Lobster for dinner. Simple. Satsifying. Right?

Wrong.

“Please,” Alicia said to the supervisor, “Caleb has a speech disorder. If anything happens, ANYTHING, call us right away. Here’s our number.” And she handed it to the lady.

Then, it was seafood time. For weeks Alicia and I have been in heated discussions over our plans for Caleb in the fall. This was my effort at easing the atmosphere for calm deliberation. In many ways, it worked.

Look at how agreeable Alicia appears here:

Ruthann came along in order to indirectly consume two pounds of crab legs.

As great as our night out was, I continually checked my phone for any missed calls. There weren’t any, but my Dad radar kept going off the entire meal. I felt uneasy. I didn’t know why.

Well, until we picked up the kids at 9:30PM.  I waited in the van with Ruthann while Alicia ran into the gym to get the kids. When they walked out, no one was crying, but Caleb had a look on his face that made me squirm. He was holding his wrist like it was a dead fish.

“Oh, he fell about 6:30 off a springboard. But he didn’t really cry,” the supervisor assured Alicia.

“Why didn’t you call us?” she said.

“He was just kind of quiet the rest of the night. He seemed okay.”

Hmm…why was he so quiet? Caleb broke his right arm. Again. And he was too darn embarrassed to say anything.

Yeah, he was pretty depressed the next day.

Fortunately, one of the best qualities about Caleb is that he’s more resilient than Brett Favre.

Of course I don’t blame anyone for Caleb’s broken arm. Accidents happen. It stinks that we didn’t get a call when he fell, but no one’s worse off because of it. Just think how frustrated Alicia would have been if we’d have had to take our crab legs to-go?

Despite the curve ball, Friday the 13th was a good day for a date. Next time, though, we might just have to stay home and watch a horror flick instead.

And what do we intend to defend ourselves with?  School children wielding carrots.

Don’t fight it, embrace it.

(No, we did not build this one. But my guess is that in a couple hours, we will create one like it.)

I’m not considered a handy-man by anyone. My garage tool acumen is only slightly worse than my putting a ponytail in Lucy’s hair acumen. In fact, I had destroyed my stapler only moments before beginning my research on how to make Caleb’s derby car–this was three days before the race–because it was empty of staples and I didn’t find the cartridge eject button before my temper erupted.

Nevertheless, Caleb and I prevailed. And we didn’t spend hundreds of hours on the car, either.

This is the simplest set of directions I can give for any Dad who needs to fabricate their first Pinewood Derby car, and make it competitive.

1) Design your car-From my research, I’ve gathered that the aerodynamics of the car contribute little to its performance. Since Caleb’s only request was a ‘Car’ inspired design, we traced Chick Hicks on the block of wood. A band saw finished our cuts in a matter of minutes; if you only have a hand saw, don’t fret; simple cuts don’t take long. ***See step four to make sure your design allows for the addition of weight to the back of the car, however.

2) Sand your design- Lower to higher grit until you get the smooth feel you desire. Caleb loved sanding his car’s body; he really worked hard at it. This is more of an aesthetic step.

3) Make cuts for axel placement (don’t use the precut ones)–Use a saw to get wheels as far apart lengthwise as the rule restrictions allow. DO THIS CAREFULLY. Next to adding maximum weight to the car in the right proportions, this is the next most important step.  Be certain your cuts are at ninety degrees to the car’s body so the axels will run perpendicular to the body. If you don’t, the wobble will slow the car.

4) Add weight--If you are as lazy and cheap as I am, don’t go to the Boy Scout store and buy weights. Just make a design that allows you do drill out the trunk area. Then, put the car on a scale with the wheels and axels (I went to the grocery store and put it on their deli scale.) Then dump the weights in until you are 0.3 ounces from the max weight (max weight is five ounces), or if they don’t have ounces on the scale, max weight is 0.31 lbs (so fill to 0.29 lbs). The reason for not going to max weight at this point is due to the addition of Play-Doh over the weights at the end. Ideal weight distribution is eighty percent posterior and twenty percent anterior of the car.

5) Paint the Car–You can skip this step entirely if you want. I spent more time than I wanted painting our car because Caleb only cared that it looked like Chick Hicks. Still, he and I only painted a couple hours total (we added stickers also).

6) Buy powdered graphite–This lubrication is essential for your car to be competitive. It will reduce the resistance of the wheel on the axel substantially, allowing it to go much faster. Apply it to the axel and spin wheel on it to lubricate well.

7) Place axels and wheels onto car–Again, tap those axels in perpendicular, giving them a three to five degree tilt so they run on the inside of the wheel slightly. If you can, take one anterior wheel out of contact with the ground completely; it will go faster with reduced resistance.

8) Test run-run car on the floor to make certain it is running straight. Any deviation will slow the car down because it will bump into the guide the car runs on. Adjust axels accordingly until it is perfect. This was our biggest mistake. I believe, had I spent the most time working on this step, our car would have qualified for the district race.

9) Go to race site--Put car onto scale and add weight until you are at exactly five ounces, sealing the weight into the back with Play-Doh. This way you can add weight without worrying about being over the limit when you get to the race.

Optionals: 1)Some people bake their wood block in the oven before car fabrication. This removes water and allows you to add more weight later. 2) Sand axels slightly to remove any imperfections (do this carefully or you may warp or weaken your axel) 3)Sometimes the track is set up the night before; if you want to trial run, go for it. As for us, we had just started the paint at this point.

Total hours we spent on the car (excluding painting and driving to get graphite and weigh car): 2 hours. In fact, typing this blog post and loading the pictures rivals the time we spent manufacturing our Chick Hicks.

Our results? We were only like three cars from qualifying for the district race. I think with more time spent on wheel alignment, we could have easily broke the top 10% of the cars.

Even if you have no desire to participate in this race, do it anyway. Caleb and I bonded so well over the project that I feel sick about  the fact I considered withdrawing from the competition.

Just have fun with the project, even if you have expectations as low as I did.  The Pinewood Derby isn’t about winning; it’s about having fun.

At least, that’s what the losers tell me. Follow these directions, and you’ll have more than fun; you’ll have bragging rights.

If any of you handy men have anything to add, I’d love to hear it. Next year we plan on winning, and your help may make the difference.

“Ka-Chick-a!!!          Ka-Chick-a!!!”

First, we read the lesson and discuss with questions drafted from the book (and from my own genious insights).

Next, there is a map exercise. This picture is Caleb’s map outlining the fertile crescent, the rivers surrounding it and the location of the city of Jericho.

For now, when I say, “Caleb and Lucy, homeschool is a privilege, they think homeschool is like a trip to the zoo or something and behave really well. The time with my children is a blessing: they respect me better than during unstructured playtime, they listen better, and they retain more information.

So far it’s been an incredible success for me as well; each day I come away knowing something that I either once stored so deeply into the folds of my aging brain that it became inaccessible, or I had simply forgotten completely.

And the other day Lucy and I were driving somewhere and she says, “Dad, remember the nomads? Those were some really funny guys!” Not a bad lesson summary for a three-year-old, I guess.

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!

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!*****

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!