Port McNeill and Boat Design

We're still in Port McNeill. The girls have been fishing several times, right off the dock.



Here is my favorite picture so far, which is Mali saying, "Please Mr. Fish, let my sister catch you!"



The girls' grandfather gave serious thought to every last detail on this boat, including how to make it grandchild-friendly. Hence a bait tank with an aquarium-like viewing front. Right now it is full of flounder, surf perch, and tiny salmon.



Being on the boat is so damn cool. Seymour, who has been twice before, said it was like being on a floating hotel, and he is correct. We don't have to do a damn thing except make sure Mali wears her lifejacket when she comes upstairs from our room. The staff lets us wander all over and explore the nooks and crannies and heads. It has reinforced my admiration for the absolute practicality of boat design: a place for everything, and everything secured in its place. Doors that latch to the wall when opened. Plates in drawers with acrylic posts between them to keep them from knocking against each other. Latches holding every last cabinet door shut. And this:



Not a bad idea for those of us who live in earthquake zones, really.

More practicality for shoving four kids in a very small space: Iz and Violet in their v-berths:



We're off to Telegraph Cove today. More pix to come.

*GASP*

This is where we are*.

The boat has wifi!

My good fortune, I cannot get over it. Need more wine.

*Photo (c) Battling Apathy

About to Be Adrift

I feel as though there should be multiple copies of me right now: one person to handle Can I Sit With You? upcoming publication affairs and this afternoon's reading, one to take the girls on vacation to Vancouver Island tonight, one to be a proper host to Lea Hernandez while she's visiting with us this week, one to be the best possible mom to Leelo so he would have had a less difficult time being off school for this entire month, one to take care of my friends who are going through such rough times right now as well as those who are on vacation and whose diabetic cats need tending, one to pay proper attention to my husband (although I did sing him "I'm in the Mood for Love" in public, at Martuni's, on Thursday). I would certainly appreciate another me to do the laundry and cooking and attempt to keep the house tidy if not clean.

I love my life. But sometimes there's too much living going on all at once. I haven't had more than four hours' sleep in several days.

And I am excited our vacation, but heartsick too. Who wouldn't want to spend a week boating along the northeastern coast of Vancouver Island? But would you go if it meant leaving your husband and son behind? This is the third year I've been invited, but only the first I've been willing -- with Seymour's gentle encouragement -- to go. I know my semi-amphibious Leelo would love many things about the watery wild we'll be exploring, but being trapped on a boat would be torture for him. And for everyone else aboard.

I will miss my boys. I'll see them in every cove and whirlpool, wonder what they'd make of every orca and crab.

Take good care of them while I'm gone.

Technorati Tags: autism, autism blog

Asperger's and Bullying

My thanks to Lastcrazyhorn, who has allowed us to publish her harrowing story about Asperger's and Middle School bullying on Can I Sit With You?

I can't help but think things could have been different if inclusive attitudes had been fostered among the students, as early as possible.

Stories like Lastcrazyhorn's make me sick with rage, make me fear for our children's social past, present, and future.

Technorati Tags: Asperger's, bullying, Can I Sit With You, Can I Sit With You?

Music and Violence

My Leelo. How sweet and wonderful he is when he is sweet and wonderful.

This is how me and my boy spent yesterday afternoon: lobbing vocal riffs at each other. Notice his recurring eye contact, his checking in, his desire to interact with me. This is not a remote boy. This is a boy who loves to play with the mother who adores him:



Leelo is out of school for several weeks, and at the moment is spending most of his time with me. This can be lovely. Today we went over to Ep's house to feed her cats, inject the diabetic one with insulin, empty the litter box, rain hellfire on the house-invading ants, and let Leelo and Mali frolic on the playground that used to be theirs. Leelo was visibly pleased to be in his old yard, and spent ten minutes snuggling in my lap under the oak trees, as a eucalyptus breeze wafted by and quail wove in and out of the nearby bushes. It was heavenly.

Contrast this with his sudden eruptions of such intense violence that they surprised Supervisor E, a veteran behavioralist with a specialty in curbing aggression.

Supervisor E came by yesterday to work with me and Leelo on food tolerance, his home-based visual schedule, my supervision and implementation of his independent work, and the violence. We had had a mellow and productive morning, initially. I set us some sequence-based fun tasks for him, and he spent fifteen minutes working completely on his own with only a single verbal prompt. I loaded TeachTown on the computer, and he successfully completed a nine-minute session without any input from us.

Then I sat next to him and told him that we needed to go downstairs. In less than a second he had grabbed me by the front and back of my neck, and was squeezing as hard as he could. Thankfully he is still a relatively small boy, with small hands, so I have only scratches and bruises. I reacted as I always do to his violence towards me: neutrality, no reaction other hand-over-hand placing his hands back at his side, and saying "Hands down, Leelo."

This is not the right approach, says Supervisor E. I should step up or back from him -- put distance between us -- and change my tone of voice. I should not be angry, but I should be firm and direct in staying "STOP." He needs to see that I am not approving of his behavior, and/or that it is not going to get him what he wants.

Neutrality and ignoring his behavior are appropriate when he targets anyone else, though, as he usually does so to make them react or get my attention. So if he does get one of his sisters, I am to go to them, comfort them, and turn my back/not react to him. If turning my back is safe at the time, that is; I have made it a policy to try to keep him in my sights.

Not that any of this helps when we retrieve his sisters from camp in the middle of the day and he throws a fit -- I can't let go of his hand, and I can't ignore him. What I need to do is ask the camp counselors to get my girls ready and hand them off to me when I arrive. There can be no waiting around. It needs to be a surgical strike, so that Leelo's dissatisfaction has no time to register before we're back in the car.

I know that Leelo is not the only one having a hard time with school being out of session. He is not the only one whose family and siblings are also having a hard time. I would be very interested to hear what other people are doing, how they are handling these really difficult dog days of summer.

Technorati Tags: autism, autism awareness, autism blog, autistic, music, singing, violence

Darcy Lives in Deadwood

I was trying to explain the allure of Austen's Mr. Darcy to Seymour the other day. He didn't get it.

I told him, "That's because you were already like Darcy to begin with, you didn't need that formative drama to reveal your true character. Much simpler for me that way, anyhow, thanks."

He looked at me in disbelief. "No drama?"

"Well, we have drama now, but it's not relationship drama."

"Oh. True."

Happy anniversary to my wonderful partner. I can't believe it's been thirteen years since we rode that rocket together.

Mali's New Hairstyle and Dress

circa 1940. This is actually not our girl -- it's her grandmother -- but who could tell?

Love that atavism.

Can I Sit With You? at Book Passage This Saturday

Can I Sit With You? will be at Book Passage in Corte Madera (Marin County) on August 9th at 4 PM. Please come! Please tell all your Bay Area friends to come!

Jennyalice and I will chat about how we made CISWY? happen and how our model works (and how you can do it too, so that editors won't take your stories and eviscerate them without so much as a by-your-leave), Lea Hernandez will try to describe the magic that went into her cover art, and then we'll have readings of three of our most popular stories. We'll also have books and t-shirts for sale and signings, and Can I Sit With You? stickers to plaster on your unsuspecting friends' backs.

Here's the official description for you to include in your forward to every Bay Area person you know:

Shannon Des Roches Rosa and Jennifer Byde Myers discuss a brave new model of book publishing success, one in which authors retain all rights and profits, and social networks take the place of agents and traditional publishers. This approach resulted in Can I Sit With You?, a collection of frank stories describing real elementary and middle school social experiences. These heartfelt tales speak to anyone who ever struggled to fit in with the other kids at school, wondered about feeling different, or felt no one understood what they were going through.

Editors Myers and Rosa will describe how they made Can I Sit With You? profitable, cover artist Lea Hernandez (Comic Book Tattoo) will talk about her creative process, and authors Judy McCrary Koeppen, Michael Procopio, and Amanda Jones will read their stories.

We'd also love to read your own Can I Sit With You? story, and feature it as one of the new stories we publish every week. Send your tales of schoolyard social horror or hilarity to ciswysubmissions@at@gmail.com. Send them by August 31 if you want to submit for our second print anthology, to be published Fall 2008. If you said you'd send a story but haven't yet, know that I've got my Lidless Eye of Sauron fixed on you.

The Leelo No One Sees

I chose to spend the evening alone with Leelo.

I had been away from him too much lately, at a conference, at an out-of-town wedding with Mali, at an out-of-country family reunion with both girls. I wanted to spend some real time, some focused time, with my son. My son who is at his best, always, in one-on-one scenarios. My sweet son whom I have not seen at his best in at least two weeks.

Leelo and I watched as the rest of our family walked out the front door and on to a party. I closed my eyes in appreciation of the sudden quiet.

And then I heard singing coming from above my head. Leelo was belting out Bicycle Built for Two, Baa Baa Black Sheep, and The Green Grass Grew All Around. As loudly as he could. About an octave higher than he should. And with words not in the original songbooks. But recognizably, and with his usual unerring pitch. And only for as long as I was looking directly at him.

He came back down the stairs and sat with me. He puffed out his cheeks. "Say, 'Do this'!" I said, and then puffed out my own cheeks. "Do this!" he giggled, puffing out his cheeks. I complied, and he helped me make raspberries for a good five minutes, laughing all the while.

"I want you to sing!" he yelled. I sang him "Bicycle Built for Two, and he pounded the chair in perfect time to the off-key "music."

"Time to sing!" he yelled, and started warbling his favorite call-and-response vocal routine: "Looking at the XX." He kept singing variations on this line, moving the melody up or down in arpeggios and stair-stepping thirds, and having me repeat them back each time (and woe to me if my diction or pitch were off even slightly). But in the past the "XX" usually stood for three words: Teletubbies, computer, or eyebrows. This time, Leelo scanned the room and picked out a new word each time based on what he saw: Hat, Bear, Cat, etc. Intriguing.

"I want to go jump on the bed, Mom!" he yelled, running up to my room. I held his hands while he bounced high and then higher. "One, two..." he yelled. "Three!" I yelled back, and tossed him on the bed, mid-jump, flat onto his back. He laughed outright. This is a game we used to play in our old house. We hadn't played it once in our new house, not in the year since we moved here.

"Find the Double Bus!" he yelled (he really does only yell when he's excited), running into his sisters' room. Double Bus is another object he hadn't asked for in a while. I located the souvenir London tour bus, and handed it to him. He played with it on the floor for a while, then yelled, "Find CatBus!" We found CatBus in his toy basket. More pretend play on the floor. Then we had to find Double Bus again. Then CatBus.

Double Bus and CatBus alternating is a routine from at least two years ago, but then the language was different, then the language was always, "I want XXX," not "Find the XX."

Leelo is recalling previous routines -- routines from years ago in some cases -- and modifying them. Interesting. Different. Encouraging.

Fun.

For both of us.

Technorati Tags: autism, autism blog

Anxious

I have fairly intense social anxiety. Most people don't believe me, because once I have been introduced to someone I will chew their ears off with my nervous chattering. But I lack the ability to walk up to people, cold, and announce myself. I physically cannot do it, not without some kind of catalyst or facilitator. Example: I spent the entirety of Guy Kawasaki's boisterous Alltop/Kirtsy party clinging to SJ like a baby monkey, or plaintively texting Susan about her ETA. I did not, could not introduce myself to a single one of the friendly, confident people milling about.

"No one with social anxiety would have that hair!" I heard, more than once, during BlogHer weekend. Possibly true, for a socially anxious person who had thought the matter through. But I just wanted people to remember me and perhaps toss me some writing or editing work, and have my online friends find me in the IRL crowds. I almost puddled when I realized that my lava-head spotlighted my wandering around the BlogHer breakfasts looking for someone to sit with: my loserhood must have been obvious to EVERYONE IN THE ROOM. Thank gods friends like LeftCoastMom, SJ, Liz Henry, Minnie, and Sarah Dopp let met glom onto them.

I made it through speaking on our wonderful panel. My voice quavered and I forgot half of what I wanted to say, but overall it came off well. Even so, the social aspects of the experience scrambled my wiring so completely that, even though I sat in two more panels that afternoon, I literally could not process what was being said. One of the speakers in one of those panels talked about the Can I Sit With You? project that I run with Jennyalice. I didn't find out about the mention until later, until someone told me, even though I was right there.

Social anxiety meant I was too nerve-wracked to eat for most of the conference. My complexion exploded. And apparently I was so tense, and spent those three days holding my body so rigidly, that when I got home and relaxed, my back started spasming. It was so painful that I thought I had a kidney infection (and my doctor's nurse practitioner thought I was drug-seeking -- lovely). The rest of my body felt like it had run a marathon.

These are not complaints. The excellence of BlogHer 08 surpassed all my expectations, was worth my jangled nerves and aching body. But attending and speaking and being "on" for three straight days almost laid me out.

Which is why, when friends called and invited us to their pool party earlier tonight, I sent the socially enabled members of our family: Seymour, Iz, and Mali. I stayed home with Leelo, because he's not always a fan of social gatherings, either. Plus he's good company, calming company, when it's just the two of us in a suddenly quiet house.

P.S. I am grateful to BlogHer for providing the peaceful sanctuary of a speaker's lounge. That small room, with its coffee and candy bars, saved my ass.

Technorati Tags: BlogHer08, social anxiety

Posting in a Jiffy

Hi,

My mom is here! And I just got back from Canada. And a wedding in Monterey. And BlogHer. And all the kids are out of school. So, I can't find my head, and my fingers are going to lose their ability to type in about two minutes. But I will put up a real post tomooooorow.

Seriously about to drown in my surfeit of riches,

-S