Wait, he wants to do what now?

First off, I have to acknowledge Three’s a Herd just hit 725 followers!!! I have to thank each one of you for reading, and clicking that follow button. I know I haven’t been as consistent in writing posts this year, but y’all have stuck with me. When you put your life, your thoughts, your words out there into the world, you wonder if one person will care enough to read, much less continue to want to read what I have to say. It’s humbling to say the least. I know I’m not some amazing blogger with a gajillion followers, but it makes me smile, makes me feel our experiences are making a difference (or making you laugh at our hot-messedness) every time I see someone new has clicked that button. So THANK YOU!

So, my carpool partner texted me Monday to let me know her oldest son would be trying out for the running team on Wednesday, so Little Man would be a little late getting home as she wouldn’t pick up til tryouts were done. No problem, and I thought, “Wow, cool, a running team at the middle school! Awesome!” and then I put it out of my mind….until Little Man was frantically digging in his backpack, looking for a form I needed to sign THAT NIGHT so he could tryout for the running team on Wednesday. Uh, what? He wants to what?

Even before we knew of his autism, we knew Little Man was not really an athlete. Oh, he’s perfectly physically capable (three evaluations with the adapted PE teacher reinforced this idea), his other stuff holds him back. And he just doesn’t really care about sports. He played Little League for three years. He played soccer for five seasons. Then we were done. Peace out. Not for him. He was fine with it. We were tired of fighting the battle, and, as I’ve mentioned before, it became something of a safety issue.

Now, he will run in PE at school. He’d rather do that than participate in any group activities. He’s not fast, but  he will do it. I just never thought he’d do it willingly, outside of the PE requirements for school. We’ve fought over PE with him since kindergarten basically. If I recall correctly, at least one of his IEP goals is strictly regarding PE participation. So when he said he wanted to try out for the running team, I was stunned. Maybe I shouldn’t have been…he had already surprised me recently when  he agreed to play soccer this fall. But still….running….on a running team….with running practices…and races against other students….Soooooo out of his normal realm.

Maybe this is just more evidence of how far he’s come over the last couple of years. Maybe I should stop being surprised when he says he wants to do something he’s pushed away for years. He’s changing. He’s maturing.

He did text me early yesterday afternoon, saying he didn’t think he wanted to do the tryout.  I asked him why. He said he didn’t think he would own up to it. I told him he had to stay anyways to wait for his friend to finish the tryout, and the carpool pickup. I also told him I thought he would surprise himself. He reluctantly agreed to do the tryout.

Who knows if he will make the team. He isn’t fast, unless he really wants to be fast. On one  hand, I don’t care if he makes the team….he tried out. That’s a huge win right there. If he does make it…..oh lordy…..it will be so good for him, such a learning experience. And it will prep  him for high school in so many ways. For that, I do want him to make the team. It would boost his confidence so much. It would give him another outlet. It would take him away from his screens for that much longer, expose him to another social world, push his envelope.

You  know the best part? His behavior….his changing who I thought he was is normal teenage behavior, whether he realizes it or not. Regardless, it’s a win. We’re kickin some autism ass this year.  Amen.

He didn’t look that different

On Saturday morning, I got to see Little Man play soccer for the first time in four years (if not more).  I was a little nervous. He is on an Under 14 team – I could only think of what Big Man’s U14 team looked like a few years ago – big, fast, skilled. I worried how he would manage, if he would be able to keep up, the potential for him to get hurt, how he would act with me there.

It’s been awhile since we were soccer parents. I had to write myself a note just to remember to take the chairs to the fields.  The soccer complex still looks much the same, with even many of the same people roaming around. It was surreal to be back, as I was convinced our years as a soccer family were done when Big Man finished his last game three years ago.  We took our seats on the sideline after chatting with some fellow teammates’ parents. Spouse is helping coach (totally in his element!) so he paced the sideline in front of us. The whistle blew, and the game started.

Our team got destroyed. We are a rec team, yet we played a comp team, which was evident pretty much right out of the gate.  We had one sub the entire game. Our boys were gassed early.  I lost track of all the goals the other team scored. We didn’t score one, although we did have a few shots on.

You know what I noticed more than anything else? Little Man didn’t look much different than his teammates. As in, if you didn’t know he was autistic, you’d never have guessed. He ran, he made a few passes, he moved around the field like he kinda knew what he was doing. He didn’t get taken out by another player. He could totally keep up. He did ask a bit more than his teammates to be taken out, but he played most of the game, and it was warm out there. He wasn’t a rock star, but neither was he just a body out on the field.

I can’t explain the level of relief I felt. He looked like everyone else. He played soccer! He did it.

I have to share this photo of him from in-game. Do you see the smile on his face? Good golly but seeing that did my heart so good. IMG_2030

I’ve Forgotten How to do This

We pulled Little Man from organized sports about four years ago. He had zero interest anymore. It had become more of a battle than it was worth at the time. And then, quite honestly, I had begun to fear for his safety as his skill level in baseball and soccer had fallen so far behind that of his peers, and he was much smaller than most of his teammates. Add to that the fact we were beyond busy shuttling the other two to their various activities, and, well, we just let him stop playing.

Last week, the mom of one of his besties in the ‘hood sent me a text. C’s recreational soccer team was looking for players, and would Little Man possibly be interested. Uhhhhhhhhh……….lemme check. This is a rec team, yes, but it’s Under 14 boys (read: some of them have had their growth spurts and are TALL), and it’s a full soccer field, and LM is not the most athletic of children. He regularly balks at participating in PE at school, especially when it’s an organized game with the full class. He’d much prefer to run by himself, or just sit in front of his computer and skip it all together. But I said I’d ask him about it, and so I did. What do you know, he said yes! I made it clear it’s the full field type of soccer, he’d have to run, he’d have to participate, he’d have to listen to the coach, and he would be in it for the entire season – he can’t just quit when he thinks he’s done with it. He said he understood, and still wanted to do it.

Fast forward three hours – I’ve emailed the coach, sent his registration form into the registrar, popped a check into the mail, and added practices and games to our family calendar, all the time wondering what the heck we’d agreed to. We have played in this soccer club – we were part of it from the time Big Man was five, through his eighth grade year. We used to set up camp on those fields every Saturday. But it’s been a few years.

Little Man came home from that first practice with his uniform.  Spouse got him new cleats, shin guards, and a ball on the way to his first game Friday night. I realized as I looked a  his jersey, shorts, long green socks, shin guards, and cleats that I’ve forgotten how to do this. I’ve forgotten how to keep track of uniform parts. I’ve forgotten about post-game snacks. I’ve forgotten how to do hot Saturday afternoons and too-early, cold, rainy Saturday mornings at various soccer fields. I’ve forgotten how to be a soccer mom.

You might be asking if I warned let his coach know what he’s getting. Yes, I did give full-disclosure, after we signed on the dotted line. Here’s the deal – Little Man ASKED to play, agreed to play. We aren’t making him do it, as we did with all our kids when they were younger and hadn’t figured out their interests. Also, Little Man has come an extremely long way with regard to maturity level and confidence since the last time he played an organized sport. He’s on the team with one of his best friends. He understands what’s expected of him. Do I think we will get through the entire season without a meltdown? That’s a huge negatory. It will happen – I just hope it happens on our time, and not his coach’s time.

I wasn’t able to be there for his first game last Friday. We had to divide and conquer as the Princess was cheering her first football game of the season at the same time. I did get reports from Spouse. His words when I asked him how it was going: “Having fun. Enjoyable to watch. Their team sucks.” Little Man was having fun. Spouse was enjoying watching him run around. Catch that – he was having fun. Ahhhhhhhhh goes my autism-momma heart. He was having fun. And there you have it, my friends, there you have it. eye on the ball

He doesn’t do anything

I pulled up  my Timehop the other day, and there were photos and video of Little Man on Opening Day of his rookie year of baseball. That was prior to him being diagnosed on the spectrum. He played soccer and baseball back then. All three kids were in multiple activities. He was challenging to say the least, but he did whatever we put him in, although often begrudgingly.

He gave up baseball first, saying it was boring and he was actually afraid of getting hit by the ball. He would have reached the level of kids pitching that next year, and the thought of it freaked him out. We pulled him out of soccer when it became evident he could actually get hurt as the skill of the kids he was playing continued to improve while his stagnated. He wasn’t exactly one of the bigger boys out there either, nor quite the fastest, which would have helped. We talked about other activities for a couple of years, but nothing seemed to interest him at all, and, quite honestly, I was hauling the other two all over town and beyond for their stuff. Having one kid not involved in anything was something of a relief.

So, he doesn’t do anything….no football, no baseball, no soccer, no music…nothing. He comes home from school, and goes to his computer. He isn’t alone – he has friends over all the time. And he does get outside frequently. But he has no extra-curricular activities. Sometimes I feel guilty about that, but most of the time, I’m totally okay with it.

It isn’t worth putting him in something he doesn’t want to do. That wouldn’t be fair to his teammates or coaches, because he would push back. So yes, we did kind of take the easy way out on this part of his childhood. Will he regret it, or hold it against us someday? I highly doubt it – he’s perfectly content with his lack of extra-curriculars.

We have sent him to camp during the summer. This past summer, he went to coding camp and he loved it. We’ll be sending him back to that program again this summer. He’s lately indicated an interest in learning to play the guitar. We’re working on that.  Big Man will have his driver’s license soon, and that will free up time for me to manage lessons and such for Little Man.

Spouse has started to take him running on Saturday or  Sunday mornings. He doesn’t seem to mind the running and it’s his preferred choice, given the option, during PE at school. We will put him on the cross country team when he starts high school in a year and a half.

For now, he’s not involved in any extra activities, and that’s okay. Do I miss seeing him in his uniform, out on the field? Sometimes, yes. But I certainly don’t miss the drama of making him get out there.

Why Baseball?

I may  have mentioned in the past I’m a huge baseball fan.  Less than a week until pitchers and catchers report to Spring Training!!! We’re *this* close to my favorite time of year.But why baseball, you ask? The easy answer is I just love being at the ball field on a warm summer day, listening to the sounds of the ball being caught and hit. The long answer goes much deeper than that.

My brother, K, is almost four years older. When I was little, I worshipped him. I was too much a priss to want to do the same sports he did, but  I loved watching him play. And he played baseball. More than that, he was pretty darn good. I was so proud of him.  Most of the younger siblings would play on the playground during the games, and pester their parents into multiple trips to the snack bar. Not me….I sat in my little chair, watching my big brother play.  I learned how to keep score when I was maybe seven years old. Some of my best childhood memories are from those Little League ball fields.

Add to this, I’m a Daddy’s girl, in addition to being close to my brother. Spending time with them meant watching sports. One of those sports was baseball. They were Oakland A’s fans, so I became an Oakland A’s fan. The fact they won three World Series in a row when I was little-little didn’t hurt. So baseball is also wrapped up in memories of spending time with Daddy and K.

When I was in college, a bunch of my friends were on the baseball team. We spent Tuesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays (when I wasn’t working) at the field watching them play. I learned so much more about the game those three years. I learned the mental side of the game, the strategies of plays and players, the dance that happens between pitcher and hitter. I learned the game, and I learned respect for the game.

A couple of years out of college, my brother and I got season tickets for our beloved Athletics team. Now baseball meant Saturday and Sunday afternoons at the park. Sun-drenched memories created with the brother who introduced me to baseball. We had our favorite players, few of whom ever lasted more than a few years with the  A’s before they were traded away. But it was baseball, and it was time together, and it was our favorite team.

Every year as Spring Training approaches, I start watching baseball movies. I have my favorites…Bull Durham, Major League, For Love of the Game, A League of Their Own, The Natural, Eight Men Out, Moneyball. They remind me baseball is close. They remind me all the things I’m anxiously awaiting. They remind me why and how much I love the game. When the season actually starts, our television will be tuned to games nearly every day, from the time the first pitch is thrown of whatever early game there is, until the last out of the last night game that day. The sounds of the game bring calm to my day.

Baseball is a game….it’s a game of throw the ball, catch the ball, hit the ball. But it’s so much more than that. It’s little boys taking the t-ball field for the very first time. It’s little sisters watching big brothers play on an all-star team. It’s daddies and daughters spending treasured time together. It’s siblings sharing a passion for a certain team. It’s competition. It’s one man vs another, one team vs another. It’s beer, brats, cotton candy, and peanuts. It’s fly balls and home runs. It’s winning, and losing. That’s why baseball.

 

Soon Enough

I’m faced daily with the fact our time with our kids is running short. Soon enough, too soon, the oldest will be starting college visits, will begin making choices for his future, will graduate and head off to college. The year after, the middle will do the same, and then we’ll just have two years left with the little at home. It’s completely cliche, but these years are going to fly by.

When your kids are little, you count up….you count up the years, you count up each milestone reached, each phase, each stage. They start school, and you count up the grades. Our script has been flipped. I’m now counting down. Each milestone is one step closer to our house being empty. We’re weeks away from Big Man getting his driver’s license. Soon, I won’t be driving him to and from school anymore, won’t be driving him to and from practices. I’m counting down the number of times I will walk out the door to the car to take him to school. I’m counting down the number of times I’ll need to sit outside the high school waiting to pick him up. I’m counting down the number of times I’ll wait for his text they’re on the last hole at the golf course so I know when to go pick him up. While there’s some joy and excitement in the freedom it will give both of us, it’s a step away for him…one more move towards adulthood and independence.

We count down the sports seasons. He has two more cross country seasons, three more golf seasons. I remember how long four years used to seem. It’s not that way anymore. I didn’t even get to see him race this year but once. I feel a push to take advantage of every opportunity to witness his achievements.

Same goes for the Princess. I’m counting down the number of recitals and Nutcrackers she has left before she’s off to college. I’m counting down the number of games she will cheer, trying to be there as much as possible. I don’t want to miss a thing. She’s started her online driver’s ed. She will take her permit test in April, her license test in October. She’s spending more time with her friends. She’s charting her own territory. Before I know it, 6am cheer will no longer be my problem – she’ll be taking herself. The nights driving to and from the studio, or sitting there for hours while she’s in class will be history for me. I can’t really begin to wrap my brain around that. What am I going to do with myself?

Every first is another notch in the countdown of them growing up. I feel myself counting down, nearly every day. We only have so many spring breaks, so many summers, so many first days of school left. I’m trying to process that. I’m trying to hold onto each moment I have with them, make them all count, but not go completely off the rails so much I hold them back. I actually asked the Princess permission to watch her cheer tonight at a wrestling match. Yeah, that.

When they were little, the days did last forever. I struggled to reach bedtime every single day. I counted hours from waking to bed, wishing days away because they were hard. My toddlers got the best of me. My littles exhausted me. I couldn’t wait for sports seasons to be over so I could breath. I longed for the end of each school year so I could be done with the homework battles and endless projects, as well as the morning hurricane process of getting them out the door. The saying, “The days are long but the years are short” is truth.  I wish I’d realized that in those early days, because now I’m counting down, and I’m very aware how short the next few years will be.

Single digits, folks

Nine. More. School. Days. NINE!!!!!!!! Well, let me clarify….Big Man has just three left. Yeah, our high school district and middle/elementary districts cannot seem to get on the same page. Trust me, it totally blows. But I digress.

I’m barely making it. The school nurse called yesterday morning – Little Man had a headache and upset stomach. No fever. I didn’t argue – just got in my car and picked him up. He’s home again today. Still no fever, just a general not-feeling-good kind of feeling. He is a bit pasty, I’ll give him that. I just didn’t have the energy to argue with him this morning. There are days I think how I would feel to have to sit at a desk, surrounded by kids, trying to learn, while feeling totally icky. That was my thought this morning. I wouldn’t want to do it, so why would I make him suffer through that? If this were October, or even March, he’d totally be at school. Late May? Forget it.

I think we’re done with school projects. I’m praying we’re done with school projects. If I have to go to Michael’s or Staples to get one more tri-fold, I might lose it completely. Thank goodness 8th grade doesn’t have any “days” like sixth and seventh grade – no Greek Olympics, no Renaissance Fairs, no Colonial Days for 8th grade. We’re done with all that. Can I get an Amen?! My creativity is tapped out, for real.

The most depressing thing going through my head right now is that summer will not bring any respite. Cheerleading continues, Monday through Friday, at 6am. I kid you not. Then Big Man has cross country 9am – 11am, Monday through Friday. Ballerinas do  not get summers off, so we will continue at the studio five days a week, with recital at the end of July. I WANT TO SLEEP IN!!! My summer is being held hostage by high school sports. We’re trying desperately to figure out when we might be able to squeeze a little vacation time in. It doesn’t look promising. Weeks off from cheer, dance, cross country, and my work events are not coordinating at all. Something will have to give. We need to get away. We need some real summer. There’s no way we’re going to have any kind of energy come the fall and  new school year if we don’t get a break.

But there you have it – we’re down to single digits as far as this school year goes. We’ll get there. It won’t be pretty, but we’ll get there.