We Go With Him

Negotiating. And Ketchup

I got as close as I ever have last Wednesday night (Jim gone teaching after being home during Spring Break last week) to negotiating Charlie out of having a wall-smashing, desk-clearning 'behavior.'

(Now that is a euphemism!)

I'm very proud, via listening to what was said to him, that Charlie worked his way through feeling ex-treme-ly anxious at 7pm, with 2 1/2 hours more to go before Jim came.

Also. I ended up buying a huge bottle of ketchup and Charlie just used as much as he needed to drench one plate of French fries, rather than the whole bottle.

 

 

I Don't Do Burgers

Charlie has been asking rather a lot to go to various (well, 2) places to get burgers. This happened Tuesday (when it was raining; the bike ride photo was taken on Monday) and Wednesday night, the latter being last night and one in which we were waiting out the time for Jim who was teaching his evening class. Charlie's been going through some medicine adjustments one of which has an appetite-increasing side effect. He is also, as often noted, prone to OCD-ness and repeatedly asking to go out to places has long been something he's done resulting in him and me doing those car trips, two walks and a finale ride to the train station an hour before Jim was to come, the last half-hour of which (getting down to the wire here) Charlie has a panic/anxiety attack that he managed to get under control.

After he was back in his seat, we called Jim on the phone and that helped so long as Jim stayed on the phone but then -- phones, disembodied voices are still very confusing for Charlie -- the 'flight' part of his 'fight or flight' tendency came out and he tried to get out of the car so, under-coated as we were, we went to pace a freezing cold train station with small gather of the restaurant workers (who had more of a coat then Charlie) and then the train came, Jim stepped off, Charlie smiled.

But regarding the burgers. It's occurred to me the reason Charlie wants to go out is that I'm a terrible burger-maker. Mine always end up burnt, chewy or gooey -- what you'd expect from someone who's been a vegetarian for three decades! 

Charlie knows how to work around my limitations.

Four Day Weekend (Less One Day)

 

Charlie has a four-day weekend due to Presidents Day on Monday, a bit of a double disruption as it means one school week is cut short at the end and at the start. Jim brought him to me mid-morning Friday in Jersey City and then went to take care of some business; Charlie and I enjoyed a ride through the Meadowlands, New York on one side and Giants stadium on the other, for a favorite burrito. In the afternoon, he had his first-in-while bike ride with no stops to walk.

Around midnight, unable so sleep (he'd dozed in the afternoon), he was undone, as in agitated, from eating some Chinese noodles -- the bulk of beans and rice suits his stomach but not the grease and soy -- and went for the wall, fiercely, then got himself to sit on the blue couch.

You're probably asking yourself, why do they keep getting those noodles if they bother his stomach? I ask myself that, too. There are always probably other factors (like yet another an oncoming storm, the aforementioned long weekend) behind his thymic distress. Charlie is very obsessive and ritualistic about food and it does seem to help to address these by letting him have what's he's asking for, seeking to moderate it and buttressing his GI system with plenty of fluids and other things (apples and fresh fruit seem to help some).

Charlie and Jim are out bike riding again this Saturday morning because that's what we do.

Alleviated

 

Awakened by merry-making just as the new year began on Tuesday, Charlie and I noted each of the first six hours of 2013, 1.35, 2.15, 3.00, 4.30, 5.45, and  6.30 when the stomach trouble (result of the Chinese food he'd eaten --  some of my relatives like to joke that having tea after such 'cuts the grease' but Charlie does not drink anything hot and grease is grease) that I realized had kept him (along with transition-back-to-school anxiety) from sleeping was alleviated.

A few hours of sleep later, Charlie and Jim biked for 13 miles through snow flurries, ably skirting ice and snow on the road (the bike path remains best suited for cross country skiers). He wanted the noodles again and we took care that all the over-the-counter-neurologist-recommended GI remedies were provided, along with a good dosing of apples.

The rest of the day and night proceeded nicely except that I was watched like a hawk every time I (accidentally or intentionally) bent my body in the direction of the kitchen, Charlie wanting to make sure that I did not move the lunchboxes. 

Consequently, they were loaded at the very last minute as the yellow schoolbus pulled up and Jim helped Charlie into his green parka before a very fast skedaddle over the grass.

 

Christmas Planning

Who eat's at McDonald's on Christmas? asks Business Week as if such a notion should be so ludicrous, if not horrendous.

I am repelled by the greasy processed scent issuing from the Golden Arches but as the mother of a boy of most strict habits, I have a different view on the matter and all the more so as the beloved burrito place will be closed for the holiday and McDonald's is a generally ok alternative.

In Mid-November

 

Great day at school, bike ride, more uneasy (but not 'on edge') on Thursday evening. But maybe Charlie having woken at 4am-ish, helped himself to the crumbs on the crumb cake (which counts as Trying a New Food!) and conked out on the blue couch till the bus appeared at which moment he shot up in a flash and was out the door has something to do with that.

 

Radix Malorum

Radix malorum non cupiditas est (quod ille ignoscens in fabulis Canterburiensibus Chauceronis dicit) sed Pisces Suecici.

In other words, the reason (on top of post-hurricane-ness and change of season-ness and anxiety and something of a cold) Charlie ended up with three incident reports in four days (Wednesday, Friday and Tuesday) in which it was noted that he was especially, intensely fierce was (well, for the latter two reports) that, last Thursday morning due to a delayed opening of his school due to the nor'easter's snow and us three going first to Jersey City to retrieve the black car from a snowy parking lot and driving it all the way out to the Jersey 'burbs and Jim and Charlie stopping in a bagel place while I got gas for the white car because it was an even day, Charlie nervously grabbed and ate a pack of Swedish Fish.

I might as well have given him a pack of glue pieces.

He had a period a few years ago -- when we were still watching his gluten and dairy intake (we still watch the latter in particular) and he and I would take the PATH train from Journal Square into Manhattan to meet Jim at his office -- of going for the yellow packs of red gummy candies in the racks at Hudson News, along with a 'green drink' (aka a Sprite). Little did it occur to us that they were probably at least one source of major bellyaching. I suspect Charlie just chewed the fish enough to swallow them and then had colossal stomach pain for days after, with attendant behavioral storming, gummy candies gumming up a system already prone to, ah, doing just that,

Tuesday evening, after a long talk on my way home with his teacher, Charlie's thymic distress was greatly alleviated and such it was that I had to dig out this trusty device bought for me by my dad a few years ago when I found myself using it routinely (you think we would have said, now there's a problem here). The device, and a plunger, was most effective and Charlie slept from about 7 till 10 pm and woke up troubled, with more stomach pain. He worked it through after demanding, more and more intensely, that we take him somewhere for a burrito (as you can guess, telling him 'you already had dinner' and 'it's too late' didn't exactly assuage him). Eventually, as he was getting calmer, I made a pot of rice and Charlie started smiling and ate it and some apples.

Wednesday was a far better day at school, with Charlie being able to work through being upset without extra staff having to be requested when his teacher could see his anxiety escalating. At home, a Dadless afternoon and evening due to Jim teaching late started with me having to use the plunger (but not the other device) again. By 7.30, after a ride to a nearby town that started with Charlie calling for fast food then saying no to it, then saying 'no home' as I drove home, then suddenly saying 'home,' he wanted Jim.

I've been wary of using the timer ever since, some Wednesdays ago, I turned it on and Charlie hit his head on the wainscoting about three minutes afterward. He was ok with it last night and spent the hours walking through the house, watching me make a crumb cake (Charlie has had a past fixation with Saran-wrapped chunks of such found in Jersey stores) from a mix (I have a fixation with 'making it from scratch' but why not a mix with a photo on the box to show Charlie what it would make, and that other things can be made from with that are not red and not brownies) and a bowl of rice, which he eagerly ate after it had cooled. The cake baking made the house smell very good though of course the cake, in its crumminess, would get dropped in the oven (don't ask) and Charlie liked checking in on my activities in a warm and cozy kitchen.

And, what with Jim rushing to the subway and the trains being on a different post-hurricane schedule, he got home early, while the timer still had some 25 minutes to go.

 

Craziness, Normalcy, Irony, Water

With no familiar haunts (school, fast food Mexican place) open -- I mean, it could be plenty worse, some 2 million people in New Jersey have no power and many stood in line for hours to fill gas cans to fuel generators:

(this picture was taken at a gas station 5 minutes from our house) -- Charlie, and we with him, gutted out Wednesday. We got the 'obviously crazy / completely for us normal' idea of driving to a central Jersey town where another Mexican fast food chain had a restaurant that was open, encountering 100+ car lines at gas stations that blocked traffic and more downed trees and non-working traffic lights than you could shake a leafy twig at.

But if you want irony, or ways to reflect on want you once were and who you are now, nothing beats buying two of the same vegetarian burritos and one chicken one and random other items in a Mexican fast food place where people are charging cell phones in the restroom and snarling at their very orderly half-Asian American twin daughters who must have no school like Charlie but can be told to sit at a table by themselves so their parents can get a little peace and quiet -- all right across the street from the beloved library where I used to spend evenings and weekend afternoons reading books and journals on Ancient Greek and Latin poetry and wondering how I could always make sure I would do just that.

Charlie was wary of the strange burrito but ate some; Jim, after driving for some hours (really -- detours everywhere due to fallen trees) was less so!

I'm sure driving around so much was not the wisest thing to do what with the limited number of gas stations open. Charlie was very nervous all day, his eyes sort of bugging out with a certain franticness. Trying to assuage his anxiety being Our Only Goal In Dealing With Natural and Any Disasters and Fracas, we actually did another ride that became way too long in the evening, finding ourselves unable to turn around (blocked turnabouts were rife) on a state road that was only lit by the lights of other motorists, as the power west of us (the direction of Charlie's school) seems to be quite out.

We made it home and Charlie downed the white rice I had cooked before leaving and a lot of crackers and some apples and ended up smiling at me as he typed on his iPad. He had been awake around 6am, ran down the stairs at 6.50am in perfect timing to catch the bus, had there been one; he was asleep by 9.30pm.

Well.Jersey City is now under a lockdown from 7pm till 7am, the National Guard drove humvees through the sewage-watery streets of Hoboken, and the beach island (that Charlie so loves that we had to stop visiting it this past year because it was too hard to come and go) is a mass of sand piles, broken boardwalks and beach houses, and a roller coaster in the ocean. This is a common scene in our town and throughout New Jersey.

But the point is, we made it through another day together.

Feast and Famine

On an evening Wednesday walk with Charlie, I realized I was wearing exactly the same clothes I had on when I traveled last to Greece in March of 2011 with nine students.

Aside from screaming 'NO WITE' and being intensely tense for 30 minutes in the last hour of waiting for Jim to return, Charlie handled the evening well, though he clearly was not thrilled to be dadless.

Well, there was also the return of the brownie obsession, a demand to find brownie mix in the dishwasher where we used to hide it and then to go to the convenience store for packaged brownies like the one he by change ate on Monday. Charlie is still having trouble with his stomach what with the antibiotic and his anxiety and it all often manifests itself via food, especially virulently requesting it (he asked for McDonalds as we drove home after getting him a burrito) or eating for reasons other than being hungry (after Jim came back, Charlie had a mega-midnight-snack and then couldn't sleep till past 2am).

Granted, quite a few of members of both sides of our combined family tree have anxiety disorders both actually diagnosed and not. I had something of one when I was Charlie's age myself and have learned (therapy is a great thing, if you're in the right mindset for it) to manage it. Jim, living in a perpetual ADHD state where he can never (as this morning) remember where his keys last ended up, handles anxiety fairly well (also because his mother had a diagnosed anxiety disorder and he was very practiced at allaying her stresses -- I'll always remember her fretting and sitting in her kitchen with the morning show or the evening news playing in the background on the TV and Jim beside her reading whatever newspaper was on the table and laughing and talking -- well, trying to -- her out of things).

And I'm from a Chinese family, how can there not be a food obsession? Like many Asian families, my family is very food-centric, something that was quite apparent when I really got to know my in-laws whose relatives had emigrated from Ireland after the famine and then grown up in the Depression.

Feasting fest or famine culture.

These kind of summarizes two of the extremes in Charlie, and why he more and more seems to so clearly reflect so many aspects of his dual heritage.

But Nauplion. It's Mycenean Greek territory with a medieval era fortress too and I had never been to it on the previous first two trips to Greece and, as it was March in Greece, the air had a chill but was warm just as it was last evening on Charlie's and my walk as global warming has made this a queerly damp, hottish October. While Charlie was having that late large snack I discovered that the travel agency that had set up our trips has gone bankrupt but you know, I could set it up myself now. The travel that I've done has helped me to know who to ask for help, and where and how. Of course now I'm not actually going anywhere anymore that would take me far from Charlie (let's not even imagine the anxiety he would manifest at that!) but in reality, I feel, I know, we're always in a state of travel and transit, always ready in our traveling clothes.

 

 

When Disney Is a Warning Sign

To the unschooled, the progress that someone (this would be Charlie, who had a good school day on Monday though he was very tired) has made to leave 5 pieces of sushi and a packet of soy sauce is most likely not apparent. Those 'in the know' know that the above 'still life with 5 sushi' is a sign that said boy was able to overcome the OCD urge to finish the whole pack and eat only as much as necessary.

He also showed how far he has come, though in ways that may be troubling to many. Last night we could tell his uneasiness-o-meter was on the rise. He came back from a walk and said 'bedtime,' started listening to one Disney album in particular with songs from Pocahantas and Hunchback of Notre Dame -- songs meant to spark emotion in a certain Disney way that is a bit forced -- and running around maniacally. We could hear his feet pounding on the floorboards above our heads.

Charlie came down and smiled a bit and then hung around the kitchen, still listening to those songs (it's not a good sign to hear the one from Beauty and the Beast in which Gaston wants the head of the Beast) as I did some things in the kitchen. I could tell he wanted a walk but it was dark and images of us running after him streaking off towards cars, trees and lawns were in my mind. Jim and I praised him for doing good, assured him we'd stick together.

Charlie announced he wanted 'bedtime' and went upstairs, soon calling me to type on his iPad (with a different phrase, 'Gingerbread Boy') then said 'Mommy stairs.' I gave him more assurances and a little extra melatonin, went downstairs and we heard the getting-familiar sound of the iPad being hammered on the wall.

There was a great deal of plaster and dust on his bed and Charlie not looking pleased. I took the iPad and placed it on the floor and Jim sat in the chair and talked soothingly and Charlie stayed on his bed (without his led shaking -- that's a sign he's in heavy neurological storm mode). He got through it and got off the bed, saying 'sheet bed' and headed for the bathroom.

The toilet never flushed but I think it's likely there is a thymic issue -- his stomach was just a bit distended -- and this morning, the day after, the air is heavier and the light isn't shining so brightly. Charlie was very glad to lie down on a clean sheet and clean pillows and fell asleep after some more talking with Jim, and the sound of the ocean on his iPad.

He was very groggy getting up this morning but did soon as the schoolbus pulled up.

We've looked into fixing the wall. I have a feeling Charlie will bang out far more of it (preferably with the iPad -- why he's sitll using his old one) and since the whole wall has to be redone, well, it's a mess but things in our universe are far worse. It's just a wall (ok, walls, as there are holes in several walls of this house, which is incredibly sturdy). Messily, imperfectly, it's about progress as perfection.