We Go With Him

Some Experiences With Customer Service

Jim took a 9am train into NYC for a meeting and Charlie and I went to two banks (because somehow the computers at the first one failed just at the moment I made a request -- second bank's personnel were far more amenable but, since Charlie does not often go to banks, I kept the glowy positive smile-ness a-glowing and he giggled at both places), the pediatricians' to get some health forms for school and thence to the burrito place where, as the above photo illustrates, we were all set to wait the 1/2 hour with the trusty iPad timer and the Pogues when the owner opened the door at 10.43am and said, come on in, and asked Charlie about his iPad and could he have it to which Charlie grinned and said 'have it' and handed it over and the owner took it, laughed, handed it back and gave Charlie a hug.

Charlie was done with his burrito before 11am, before the burrito place actually opened.

We went home and I amused myself by writing that I'm a tenured radical (I am) and Jim came home, there was a bike ride, there were repeated reminders that we are SO PROUD of Charlie because who wants to go to two banks and the pediatricians' and wait for your burrito?

But it's back to the Bronze Age and I can hear dactylic hexameters (Virgil's, Homer's) a-beating in my head just in time for the start of fall teaching, autumno MMXII, pridie Kalendis Septembris.

A Piece From the Charliad

Jim caught an 8-something am train, Charlie went to sleep at 9.30am in his brown chair.

I did a bit of writing and posted this for Jim.

The landscapers came to mow the lawn at noon and Charlie woke up and we got a burrito and nachos and he very precisely ate the part he likes (yes, guacamole; no, cheese or dairy which is just as well) and handed me the platter with a grin.

He paced around, he ran around, he ended up back in the chair and was snoozing at 4pm.

Calling his name, me going outside to dig up some overgrown shrubbery, a honking car, did not wake him.

At 7.30 pm, Charlie got up, said 'bedtime.' And went to bed.

Granted, he hasn't really spent much time in his bed for the past couple of nights and none at all Tuesday night, which he passed in pacing and standing and hanging out with Jim.

Who, I must be honest!, Got not one lick o' sleep Tuesday night but I hear he had two rockin' intro to theology classes.

Anticipating Charlie waking at 1am (i.e., any moment), I was content only to pull out just the one shrub and started writing, in earnest, about Charlie and Homer. Yes, quite the matchup.

(The mashup.)

 

Today Is the Day

Yes, it is here. That singular event of the summer.

The day when Jim is gone all day to teach with the start of the fall semester.

Obviously it is going to be a bike-ride less day.

I'm not quite sure about the rest, other than that there will be long endless drawn on moments when utterances for dad-on-demand (the way, when I went to California for maybe 40 hours in June, Charlie called for mom-on-demand and, since I did not materialize, there was great upsetting of tables, a plastic dish rack, the refrigerator and the infamous run across the street to bonk the neighbor's tan car) -- when such utterances do not provide the requested result.

Maybe a walk or two. A car ride, I would think, though maybe not, as sometimes Charlie refuses to leave the grounds (of our home space) when either parent is gone.

Big Stim-thing. Charlie having engaged in this for record-setting amounts of time for over a week, I have been -- amid actually getting work done on a piece about his unique 'oral traditions' plus the getting-usual writing about Pussy Riot and other topoi, and digging into the nice little piles of books about Greek history and Greek poetry and Homer and Herodotus that now occupy the floor around my desk -- thinking a lot about what all this (the stimming, Pussy Riot, a lot of Greek) could mean.

Well, the stimming: Possibly if not a way to limn the darkness, chaos and riot within, a way to mediate and maybe contain it for Charlie?

He did a fair amont of it, though with a bit more flexibility to step away from it, on Tuesday. He and Jim had picked me up on Kennedy Boulevard and then we'd dropped Jim off on Sip Avenue within a short walk of Journal Square and the PATH train and gone home. Charlie dozed after lunch, awoke and waited peacefully (if stimmily) for Jim and then went on a bike ride. We all went to get groceries and Charlie helped himself to sushi in the car: His appetite is back after last week's fare of mostly watermelon, apples, and crackers.

While Jim (yes, I know it's past midnight) put finishing touches on his syllabi, Charlie is in the brown chair. Between things, Charlie's shot us a few smiles and talked a bit.

I think he's going to stay up with us; he has done so in the past few nights. Round the clock sticking together it is.

One Way to Navigate Through Scylla and Charybdis

 

And so on the fifth day, the bike ride hiatus ended, after Charlie woke around 1pm if not later.

There was still plenty of Extreme Stim before the ride, though minus the neck twisting and head turning. There is a great deal of not so much breathy sounds as ones recalling, ah, cicadas.

We continue to work on the ear drops and have been wondering, if Charlie is trying to rebalance his ears and sense of balance and hearing? (All those swims in the camp pool.)

It was a good bike ride with this result for an hour and a half, leading us to marvel at how strong a neck Charlie must have.

Thoughout the rest of Monday, there was quite a bit more of the cicada-Ing, some standing and some sitting in the big brown chair.

I'm off to take the train into Jersey City to attend a few hours of faculty meetings Tuesday morning. Jim has student advisee meetings himself at his school, so I can only stay for part of the day. It's the first time I'm 'back to wok' (sort of) after a fulsome summer of SAHM-ness. I haven't discussed all this with Charlie in so many words; might it be he's doing what he can to navigate the transition he's picked up on?

Oh yes.

 

House Party

 

 

Our next door neighbors had a big birthday party for their little girl (she's 1!) on Sunday evening and Jim took the 4.55 train into New York to attend the annual pre-semester Theology department party.

So obviously I told Charlie, who passed the majority of the time standing a-stim in front of the fridge, that we were having our own party.

Our activities were a little different from toasts, cocktail chatter, and candles to blow out. Charlie did his thing and I offered him minimalist but ever cheery check-in praise that we were dadless and he was not launching boxes of books into the air, demanding frenetic walk-runs down the street, attempting to pull down the poor refrigerator, overturning my desk or adding to the collection of holes in the wall. Perhaps he has concluded, the best way to avoid all that ruckus is just to stand in one place, with a proper view of the front yard and the bikes.

Yes, after Charlie and I went on an easy-going noon time walk (he didn't go to sleep till 4.30am and slept in), he wanted the bikes out! But then he felt the need for refrigerator-standing and Jim had to leave and I moved the bikes first to our back yard, then to the shed.

I also put together four syllabi for my four different classes and read Herodotus to prep for my Greek history class. And did laundry. And undercooked my rice but perfectly cooked some eggs; Charlie wisely chose other things (he's never eaten an egg and I doubt he would care to start) to munch on.

When he looked troubled I realized I was myself looking distracted and frowning. Not at him, maybe about something I'd read (such as the use of 'special needs' to describe college students; not everyone agrees but I use 'with disabilities' -- I do work in disabilities studies which you most certainly would not call 'special needs studies' -- I have a whole creed about the overly precious use of the word 'special' but will spare you).

Anyways, I don't think it's always clear to Charlie on seeing someone looking cross or addled, or on hearing someone say something cross or judgmental or put-downish and cutting (as I'm inclined to direct towards various politicians such as this state's overrated governor) -- I don't think Charlie is certain that it is not he who is the cause of censure, anger, or other sorts of harsh attitudes. The actual topic can be religious orthodoxy or a frozen web browser or insurance or home improvements; Charlie just hears the negativity and makes a grand generalization that it's about him and then, too often, gets upset, presuming he is the cause of trouble.

I've been monitoring what I say, my facial expressions in his presence and (sometimes you gotta use the hippie new-agey speak) the vibes I may be sending out. Doing this, and smiling, turned a consternated boy into a joking one who, at 10.15 pm, settled himself (it was several hours of standing he put himself through) into the big brown chair and dozed off, opening his eyes when Jim walked in and then (jndeed our little house party was winding down) going back to sleep.

 

 

Swings and Carnivals and Summer Things

 

Charlie just polished off a rather large post-midnight snack about an hour and a half ago. He napped earlier in the day after a walk -- first since Tuesday I think -- and a big lunch. He had eaten nothing but apples, watermelon and crackers for about three days so I'd say the return of his appetite is a sign that he is on the mend.

He still spent a fair amount of time after waking up and before going to bed doing the Extreme Stimming, though it seemed a shade less extreme. Our new theory -- Jim and I are ever on the detective trail -- is that it may have something to with his ears being clogged (wax... I'm not inclined to poke too much in his ears lest Charlie start to do so too much himself), plus we had to wonder if seven days of swimming at camp had taken their toll. I managed to get a few ear drops into Charlie's ears; perhaps his head and neck twists and breathy sounds are an attempt to deal with odd, ringing, or some such sensations in his ears?

Daily mysteries, these are.

The wind was picking up here (a little taste of the hurricane that's brewing far to our south?) but Charlie and Jim got in one last turn on the ferris wheel, after which Charlie zoomed through the air on his beloved swing ride. The carnival closes Saturday night and Sunday night Jim has to go into NYC for a departmental function so it was our last night, regardless.

It was good together fun. Charlie smiled throughout the entire ferris wheel ride and waved every time he and Jim caught sight of me -- am a chicken about rides; even a merry-go-round makes me panic. Charlie's love of motion haileth not from his mother.

 

A second day passes sans bike ride

Friday found Charlie sleeping and stimming plenty but not as much, quite, and a doctor's visit reveled no sores in his mouth or some such. Before heading to the carnival (mention of which perked him up), he grabbed a pack of sushi and some cookies my mom had sent, thereby eating more than he had in three days. We're chalking the past week up to self-imposed r 'n' r.

 

Shut-Inned Day

I think It may have been around 7am Thursday morning when Charlie actually slept after the to-do of Wednesday. He was out until 2pm, stayed groggily in his room until the evening and, somewhat surprisingly considering the rate of non-activity throughout the day, said yes to go to a local carnival. He was very pensive, still twisting his shoulders in a stim-way in line for the ferris wheel. But he did seem to like being there and to like a ride on the swings, albeit with one hand over his right ear due to the music emanating from the neighboring dragon coaster.

Then, Extreme Stim in the kitchen and his bedroom and, given that he'd gotten up in the early afternoon, I'm not anticipating bedtime anytime before, oh, dawn. He did smile a bit in the latter part of the day (well, evening, as he wasn't awake most of the actual day).

Well, I do think he is sick and his being very quiet and all the breathy sounds and head-twisting are signs of a sore throat and maybe a cold sore in his mouth (I've been working on getting a look without irking Charlie by beaming a flashlight in his face). Jim and I both read up on side effects of his medications though there has been no change in any of those. There is a fifth one we give Charlie when we sense a behavior storm on the horizon but he has had very little of it and at irregular intervals. It is the case that there have been periods in the past when Charlie's energy level was alarmingly low.

But then, he's so insistent on It Shalt Be The Same Things Done Day In And Day Out, to ride his bike in intense heat, downpours, hail and snow (not ice), in the dark (with bike lights), in traffic with rude drivers and dogs straining on their leashes in eager yapping. Perhaps he actually has needed a real rest (though he has continued to stand for long periods of time).

Also, since Charlie rarely goes anywhere besides school and home these days, I'm wondering if camp, while turning out to be so positive, took a lot out of him, with being around many many kids and people he didn't know at all and mostly outdoors.

And, the Dadless day, a harbinger of Jim and me returning to teaching after being home pretty much full-time since May. Charlie notices everything, including us shirking shorts for work clothes and the slightly higher intensity in the house atmosphere as we attend to thing like syllabi, student emails to get into closed courses (both Greek and Latin, now fancy that), reminders about department meetings etc..

With all this, it's been a great summer, together with and because of Charlie, as we keep saying.

 

 

 

An Epic Day In Its Own Way

St. Simeon Stylites on his pillar and those hermits and monks who withdrew into desert spaces or mountaintop caves for Contemplation in Silence: Just as life with Charlie has been showing me how it is possible to function without writing and reading the written word, so Charlie's capacity for standing pretty much in one spot for hours on end (6, 7) reveals how Simeon and all the non-merry band of reclusive types could engage in their exploits.

I'm not trying to romanticize Charlie and his doings. Wednesday, these were not very varied:

Long bouts (measured in hours) of what I feel should be called Extreme Stim, in his room, the living room across from the front door, the kitchen, the bathroom.

A late morning bike ride towards the latter part of which Charlie, legs starting to shake, ran from off his bike and was headed for some houses but Jim grabbed the back of his shirt à la Athena taking Achilles about to draw his sword on Agamemnon by the hair and Charlie was talked back into getting on his bike without a bite and made it back home.

A first.

Maybe all that was connected to Charlie keeping his bike helmet, skullcap, gloves and ankle strap on for the next 6 or 7 hours as he stood and 'went through his (almost non-moving) paces.'

Around 8pm he polished off most of the watermelon in the refrigerator, after not eating much (a few apples) all day.

He talked a little which was a lot as he barely said anything on Tuesday (sign of a sore throat).

Though I'd seen Charlie yawning, he is up and it's late night (3am ish) shower time.

(Pace pole-sitting saints, indoor plumbing rules.)

Dadless Day

So. Charlie lay down on his bed around 5am and got up at 7.30am just as Jim, who had attempted sleep but didn't really get it because he was hypersensitive to Charlie standing awake in his room, was leaving to drive to the Bronx to be at two dissertation defenses.

Charlie (after a bit of breakfast and a lot more of the extreme stim thing) wanted a car ride which was fine by me, wanting to execute a plan of getting books for fall classes and the all-important parking permit at my school in Jersey City.

These tasks were indeed completed along with the purchase of a pack of Swedish fish that Charlie ate in the car as we rode over the Pulaski Skyway before falling asleep.

He went straight for the brown chair at home, stirred after two hours and went to the blue couch after saying 'timer.' I set it for five hours and Jim came home before it went off. Charlie had woken and there was more breathy-stimming and then a bike ride that brought him and Jim back after dark.

More of the breathy business -- a really sore throat and a vexingly runny nose? (I've got them) -- and Charlie wanted bedtime and after twenty minutes I found him, fully clothed, stretched out horizontally on top of the blankets, completely asleep.