First day of first grade

Ian and I went for his "meet the teacher" session last week. He was excited to see his new classroom, see some kids, and meet his new teacher Ms. Boutwell (as in about well). The teacher talked a lot about reading and how if my kid doesn't know how to read now he will by the end of the year. Ian and I kind of just looked at each other because he's currently reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone - slowly, but with great accuracy. Ian's schedule this year is:

8:55-9:05 Announcements 9:05-11:00 Shared reading and guided reading groups 11:00-11:45 Writing and Calendar Math 11:45-12:35 Lunch and Recess (lunch is 11:50-12:20) 12:40-1:40 Math 1:40-2:10 Science and Social Studies 2:10-2:55 Resource (Art, Music, PE twice a week) 3:00-3:15 D.E.A.R (Drop everything and read) and Dismissal

My kid gets 15 minutes for recess (12:20-12:35pm) every day and twice a week he gets P.E. for 45 minutes. Otherwise he's sitting and learning. I'm a grown up and that day looks taxing to me. Thankfully, when he gets to Jenna's in the afternoon, she throws them outside, but it's still rough. I don't see Ian until 5:30pm. With no naps at school, he is exhausted by 7:30pm and asleep by 8:30pm at the latest. He's up between 6:30 and 7am every morning.

I offered to take him to school this morning because he had two large bags of supplies for the classroom in addition to his backpack. I wanted to take his picture in front of the house but he suddenly looked unhappy. He told me his smile was awful. This was after he suddenly felt sick at the breakfast table and was slow to get out of bed this morning despite popping awake at 6am all summer.

I told him he looks great and I love his smile. It looks a lot like mine in that you can tell we're happy if our eyes disappear behind our cheeks. I asked him if he was nervous about school. He nodded yes.

"But Mom, they're going to have hard math!"

I assured him that he was brilliant and that the math would not be too hard for him. I told him no one was attacking him for how he feels and it's perfectly normal to be nervous about starting something new. "It happens to me all the time and I'm a grown up. But all the chemicals that make you excited and scared are basically the same. So take it as a good sign that you're body is working just fine and go for it. You'll do great."

He smiled a little and climbed into the Jeep. We drove the 3/4 mile to school with his leg hanging out, his eyes closed in the wind, his shaggy hair blowing all over. (He wants to grow his hair long like his new friend Kieran, so no back to school haircut this year.) I pulled up to the school, handed him his bags and called out "I love you!" to him.

I hope the school rested up all summer so they are ready for him. He's a lot of kid but worth it.

Life in the passenger seat

The first day I brought the Jeep home, I asked Ian if he wanted to go for a ride with the doors off. He immediately burst into tears and ran to the safety of his room. As far as he was concerned, that monster was a 4" lifted carriage of Satan. My kid is a sensitive soul, much like his mother. There are a lot of things that make him nervous and upset these days. I get that. There's a lot of stuff out of his control. It's hard being six.

A few days later we were going to get dinner. I asked if he wanted to take the Element or the Jeep. He adamantly requested the Element. Fair enough.

Last night, I asked Ian if he wanted to get a milkshake from Sonic after dinner. He wanted the shake but didn't want to leave the house. I reminded him that I'm not a dessert delivery service, so if he wanted a milkshake, he was gonna have to come with me. That led to some consternation and a bit of a delicious stand off. Whatever, dude.

Around 8:30pm, I told Ian he needed to take a shower. I honestly can't remember the last time he had gotten clean by anything other than the backyard hose, so it was getting bad. He agreed but then said he had decided he would like to get a milkshake.

"It's probably too late now, though." "If you shower and manage to keep the milkshake out of your hair, I'm agreeable to that." "YAY!"

Fastest. Shower. Ever.

As we walked out into the muggy night air, I asked again casually, "Do you want to take the Jeep?"

"But ... I'll have to ride in the front!" "Yeah ..." "But! I've never ridden in the front before!" (internally debates risk of airbag on 82lb kid) "You'll be fine."

And with that he was sprinting towards the Jeep.

I had put the doors on for the 20 minutes of storms we had earlier that day. As I opened the driver door and took the top half of the door off, Ian blurted out, "Mommy! What are you doing?!"

"I'm taking the door tops off." "I'm already in the front and now you're gonna have me fall out?!" "Jesus, dude. You have a seatbelt."

He opened his door and climbed up in. I took the door tops off and set them in the driveway. Ian reminded me to not run over them as part of his safety protocols.

I put the Jeep in reverse to back out of the driveway and he started squealing with delight! I drove really slowly in front of the neighbors' houses just in case the kids were up and happened to look out the window to see Ian RIDING IN THE FRONT SEAT!

Most of the way to Sonic, Ian was content to hold his blankie (corner firmly pinched between thumb and index finger), rest his right arm on the door, suck his thumb, and stare out the window. His freshly washed hair tussled in the warm breeze and he looked content. I tried to take his picture because it made me so happy but it was too dark.

We took the back road so there were lots of stop signs. This was Ian's first experience with a stick shift as well, so there were lots of questions about clutches and gears and if my hand had to stay on the stick for it to run or if it was just a place to put it.

We parked at Sonic and Ian posed for a picture. It only marginally describes his level of stoked about sitting in the front seat.

As we drove home, he alternated between sipping his milkshake and hanging his head out the door like a labrador (because really there is no window but more a missing section of door). He said it was the best thing ever.

"Mommy, it feels like we're going so fast!" "Dude, we're going 35. But open air is like that." "Can you see the moon? It's so bright!" "I can't see it from my seat." "It's right here!" (points to a spot in the roof) "You know, we can take the top off of this too. So you could see the stars and everything."

If you were listening very closely at 9:10pm last night in our little corner of Ocean View, you would have heard Ian's mind explode.

Two weeks ago he was terrified of a car. As of last night, he's hooked on the front seat, topless life. Kids are like that. He may not get to drive for many aspects of his life. But that doesn't stop him from living in the moment, hanging his head out with the wind on his tongue.

Back on the ice

A few months ago, we started Ian with skating lessons at the local ice rink. He did really well and had no fear. He is able to get on and off the ice safely, skate forward with relative success and is studying the nuances of skating backwards (something I myself have yet to master). He’s also learned how to safely fall and get back up again, two things he gets plenty of practice with each week. After he finished two sets of the skating lessons, we switched him over to hockey lessons. It’s a bit more involved than the skating lessons in that he has to dress out. Dressing a five-year-old in full hockey gear is not simple or speedy. Those practices are on Saturday and they’re something I’ve let Rich take the lead on. It’s hard for me as a mom to dress Ian in the locker rooms if there are other shy boys in there and Ian is not able to dress himself fully yet. And it’s just better for Ian to do this with his dad.

Today, however, was a special treat. It was “stick and shoot” this afternoon from 5:15-6:45pm, which is basically just open hockey practice for anyone who shows up. Rich and Ian both suited up and went out on the ice today. Ian was stoked and Rich was pretty pleased too.

They skated around a bit, practicing shots on the goal and puck movement. After a while all the skaters lined up to take turns shooting at the one goalie who had suited up. Rich had already decided to not bring his goalie gear today because he wanted to play with Ian, not field a million break aways from excited kids. When it was Ian’s turn to shoot the puck, everything went quiet. He meticulously pushed the puck down the ice, one little shuffle at a time. After a million minutes, he got within 10 feet of the goal and shot the puck. It went straight at the (adult) goalie, who easily stopped it. All the other players, adults and kids alike, tapped their sticks on the ice for Ian to congratulate him on his shot. It was really sweet.

I like hockey but I’m not fanatical about it. I know the rules, I recognize the equipment, I can skate well enough to be a decent forward (my backwards skating sucks way too hard to ever play D). But it’s not a passion of mine.

Watching Rich and Ian on the ice today, though, was pretty awesome. It was one step closer to Rich putting on pads in a game. One step closer to him putting on armor again. One step closer to normalcy.

Rich has had absolutely zero output since Christmas Day, even while increasing his eating. He’s eaten adventurous things like a Wendy’s cheeseburger and a few bites of turkey chili. He had a waffle yesterday with peanut butter on it, just like he would have done any other Sunday last year. He’s eaten unmentionable amounts of Trader Joe’s dark chocolate with almonds in it. He’s had a slice of homemade pizza (we haven’t braved greasy restaurant pizza yet). Tonight after hockey, we all went to sushi where Rich had a regular meal’s worth of food. It did make him so full I had to drive home, but his ostomy pouch remained bone dry.

It has been exactly six months since the fistula first appeared, gushing 3.5 liters of fluid a day. We are so close to the end of that epic chapter. Tuesday, Rich flies to Nashville and back for blood work (thanks for the ticket Curt!). If he continues to keep his output at zero even at 30,000 feet, I am calling his fistula healed. Either way, we’re having Mexican this week.

It has been such a slog for so long, it was extremely satisfying to watch both of my boys on skates. It warmed my heart even in that freezing rink.