The Passing of Time

Today, Ryan and Jordan started high school. High school! This is mind blowing to me. How can more than 14 years have gone by that quickly?

Time seemed endless when the boys were babies and toddlers. We would try to get out, see friends, and do activities, but often, it was not very much fun. We spent most of the time feeding and rocking them to stop the crying, or chasing them and watching their every movement when they were toddlers, to make sure they were safe. I would regularly hear from moms of older kids:

  • “What adorable babies/little boys! I miss those days.”
  • “You’re so lucky to be young and have this time. Savor it because it goes so fast.”
  • “Enjoy them while they’re little and you’re young. One day you’ll be 15 years older with teenagers taller than you are, wondering how they got so big and where the time went.”

I would look at them enviously – their faces, refreshed as if they’d gotten a good night’s sleep; their demeanor, relaxed while lounging on a pool chair, sitting at a restaurant table, or hanging out on a bar stool in someone’s kitchen, holding a glass of wine while their kids were off playing somewhere. And I would think, “Are you nuts? You can sit here all night and socialize! Then you can go home and sleep for eight hours. Why am I the lucky one? I want to be like you!”

The boys got a little older and Ryan entered his bolting phase. Whenever he experienced sensory overload – if the environment was too loud, too busy, or too confining – he would run away. We had to watch him constantly and would regularly call to each other across the playground, the gym, a friend’s house… “Are you watching Ryan?” “Where’s Ryan?” “I have him, but I haven’t eaten – it’s your turn to watch him!”

Preschool was a blur of physical and emotional fatigue, but as we got into elementary school, life became more fun. The boys tickled each other, hugged each other, cuddled with us, and had the best little boy scents when we snuggled with them. We still had the ‘who has Ryan’ panicked moments, but they were not as frequent.

Somehow, my 30s disappeared during those years and when I turned 40, the boys started middle school. Their growth from boys to teens was steady. During those years, cuddling became a thing of the past. Instead of them hugging us all the time just because, hugs were given for a purpose – a thank you, or a hello or goodbye if one of us was going away overnight. Little boy scents were replaced by deodorant. Imaginary games stopped and we had longer conversations instead. We did more activities together – trips, shows, sporting events, the family Amazing Race that Jordan organizes every year. They (Jordan, especially) began to value alone time or being out of the house participating in extracurricular activities. And they both grew taller than me.

Sometimes I miss the cuteness, the cuddles and the innocence of the younger years. We FaceTimed my cousin, who had twins in February, on her birthday a few months ago. She had a baby in her arms and one was sleeping. Her two year old was playing nearby. “How was your day?” I asked. She said her husband was sick and she spent the day taking care of two babies and a toddler, not the most relaxing of birthdays.  Dan and I sang and played games through the phone with the awake twin and made him smile and giggle, which of course made us smile and laugh. Babies’ giggles are contagious.  “Aww, I miss this,” I said. “Enjoy these moments while they’re young. It goes so fast.” She looked at me as if I was crazy. I had temporarily forgotten about the sheer exhaustion that comes with twin babies.

To quote my friend, Heather, who summed it up well, “while I miss the age, I do not miss the lifestyle.” Ryan has stopped bolting completely. He lets us know where he’s going if we are out somewhere, and he always comes back to us. When we get together with friends, our kids usually disappear with the other kids, and we’re the ones lounging on pool chairs or chatting with friends in the kitchen for hours, and going home to get a good night’s sleep. Life overall is easier now that they’re older. But, it’s hard accepting we’ve also gotten older in the process.

Last year, Ryan was writing an essay for Spanish and had to describe three people in his family – their hair color, whether they were tall or short, and whether they were young or old. He wrote, Mi padre es viejo. (My father is old.) I said, “Ryan, you think Daddy is old? He’s not old!” The picture next to viejo was a man looking about 80. Ryan erased it and wrote, “Mi padre es joven.” (My father is young.) The picture next to joven was of a college-aged person. “That’s not quite Daddy, either,” I said. “So what is Daddy?” Ryan asked. “He’s between these two people,” I said. “He’s middle-aged.” “There’s no word for middle-aged here,” Ryan said. “So is he viejo or joven?” Hmmm…

Some days I feel like I’m just a few years out of college and can’t fathom 25 years have passed. In college, I worked in admissions and I remember thinking my boss, who turned 30, was so old. Other days, I feel every bit my age and shake my head when I hear younger people complain about being almost 30. A few weeks ago on Bachelor in Paradise (yes, the Bachelor franchise is my guilty pleasure TV), one of the women actually said, “I am 27 now and am moving treacherously toward 30.” “Treacherously,” I thought. “Unbelievable.” I had to write that one down.

I guess age is relative. You might feel young while spending time with people 10, 20, 30 years older than you are, or while having a fun night out with your friends, but feel ridiculously old around a bunch of 27 year olds complaining about the impending descent into their 30s.

Last year, the boys’ school lost power one day in the spring. They had a backup generator so there was heat. There just wasn’t electricity and this meant no WiFi, which is needed to work the smartboards. Jordan started texting me as soon as it happened.

“Can you pick me up?”

“Why would I pick you up? There’s not an early dismissal.”

“Not yet. There probably will be. Everyone is getting picked up early.”

“I highly doubt everyone has parents who can run out and get them in the middle of the day.”

“Well, there’s no WiFi so we’re not doing anything. I’m bored.”

“Why can’t you learn without WiFi? Back in my day, we had textbooks and chalkboards and we managed to get an education.”

“Your day was a long time ago. School doesn’t work like that anymore.” I could feel his eye roll across the phone.

I couldn’t believe I had just said ‘back in my day’ to my son.

Ryan, tu madre es muy vieja! (Your mother is very old!)

For the record, I did not pick Jordan up early that day 🙂

Weathering the Storm

For many parents of children with autism, schedules are a lifeline. Knowing what to expect each day — and when to expect it — is often critical for minimizing anxiety and as a result, tantrums.

We learned quickly if we created a schedule with pictures and times, Ryan would read it over and over, become familiar with it, and remain calm. His teachers did the same in school. As he got older and could read, just giving him a list of dates and events or a calendar with our plans served the same purpose.

But what happens when that schedule unexpectedly changes? There is that little thing called the weather which has gotten in the way of many plans and caused many a tantrum over the years. Ryan’s reaction to weather events can be a storm unto itself.

In the early days, it was difficult to reason with him if something got cancelled – he didn’t understand why his schedule suddenly changed due to rain or snow and would scream and cry.  

As he’s matured, Ryan has heard many times that sometimes plans change and we have to be flexible. Does he understand? Yes, in theory. Is he accepting of it? Not always. Does he talk incessantly about how he wants to do the activity that might get cancelled and threaten to ‘freak out’ if it does? Of course. For hours.

And for some reason, he seems to think I, alone, control the weather.

This is a typical conversation:

“Mommy, make it sunny!” Ryan will often whine if it’s raining and we can’t do something.

“Ryan, I don’t control the weather,” I’ll respond.

“Who controls the weather?”

“The weather is controlled by what happens in the atmosphere. Not by a person.”

“Well, tell the atmosphere to be sunny.”

Winter is very similar. Back in elementary school, Ryan hated snow days. He wanted to be in school every day the calendar said there was school. Any chance of snow caused anxiety.

Similar conversations:

“Mommy, tell the snow not to come so I can go to school.”  

“Ry, I don’t control the weather.”

See dialogue above for the rest.

“Believe me, Ryan,” I would often think to myself, “I have no desire for snow. Snow messes with my schedule, too. If I had the power you seem to think I do, our weather would be amazing year-round.”

These days, Ryan is a little more flexible about snow (as long as it doesn’t ruin his weekend plans). He’s ok with school closings – but only full days, as late arrivals mean he has to adjust to a slightly different schedule.

One night this past year, we were discussing what might happen with school the next day.

“I don’t want a late arrival, Mommy. Tell the woman to close schools for the whole day.”

The woman? Dan, Jordan and I all looked at each other in confusion. Mother Nature? G-d? Me?  

“What woman?” I asked.

“The woman! You know, the one on the phone!”

Ohhh! “The woman” was our superintendent. Years ago when we started school, we had to provide our phone numbers and e-mails for mass messages from the district about things like school closings. We gave them every number we have, several e-mail addresses and opted in for text messages, as well, just in case we missed something. As a result, each time there is an early dismissal, late arrival, or school closing, four phones will simultaneously ring, and multiple e-mails and text messages will ping with pre-recorded messages, where we’ll hear the voice of our superintendent with the news.

Since last winter was a horrible one, I think the order of who called our landline the most (yes, we still have a landline. The cell signal is terrible in our house) was probably my mom, my sister, and the superintendent. If we’re lucky enough where she makes a decision at night rather than 5am, I’ll answer one of the calls on speakerphone so everyone can hear her relay the news.

“You mean [superintendent‘s name]?” I asked.

“Yes!” Ryan said, excited I finally got it. “Call her and tell her to close schools.”

Right,” I thought. “Since she and I are BFFs, I’ll just give her a call right now and tell her how to run her district.

Fast forward to this past weekend… Ryan loves to swim. We go to family and friends’ pools a lot in the summer, along with our gym pool. We watch the weather religiously the week leading up to any major outdoor event and this week was no exception. We had plans at two different pools. Saturday we were going to swim with friends at a rooftop pool in the city, and yesterday we were planning to visit Dan’s sister and family, who have a beautiful pool at their house. As the week went on, the forecast did not look pretty for either day.

Ryan watched the weather reports nervously. Each day: “Mommy, I want to swim this weekend.”

“I know. So do I. But we can’t control the weather.”

Friday: “Mommy, I’m going to freak out if we don’t swim tomorrow.”

“You’re 14 and too old to freak out.”

“I don’t want it to rain. Make it sunny. Please, Mommy.”

Serenity now! Or at least some wine!

Saturday was a washout. It was a long day in the house, with Ryan telling me how bored he was, how I needed to make the rain stop for Sunday, and how much he wanted to go to Aunt Anna’s pool.

We fell asleep to pouring rain. I prayed for it to stop the next day – at least for a few hours. Yesterday morning started off cloudy but dry. By the time we got to Anna and Mike’s house, there was sun! We swam for several hours and it actually turned out to be a decent day. Ryan was calm, content and smiling.

At the end of our visit, we made plans to come back at the end of the summer.

“Mommy, will it be sunny then?” Ryan asked.

“Ry!” I said, exasperated,It’s 6 weeks away. I have no idea what the weather will be then! Look at this gorgeous day you ended up with!” I gestured to the blue skies and sun. “How about appreciating it?”

“Thank you for the sun, Mommy,” Ryan said.

“Ryan,I laughed. “I don’t control the weath–” Oh, never mind. I give up. After a weekend of taking beatings for the rain, why not take credit for something good?

I smiled sweetly. “You’re very welcome, Ry.”

Be well, work well

Last week, PwC closed the entire US firm, giving us the full July 4th week off as part of the firm’s Be well, work well initiative. (Be well, work well is about renewing our energy through four areas – physical, emotional, mental and spiritual.) A firm-wide shutdown is the best gift because you can truly disconnect since no one else (at least in the US) is working — and you can return to work after that time with a relatively empty in-box and most importantly with that renewed energy. PwC has been doing this for 14 years between Christmas and New Year’s, which is always a welcome and appreciated break with the family. This was the first time we had a week off as a firm in the summer.

When PwC’s break was announced, our family already had a late June beach vacation planned, and I didn’t want to spend money on another trip. My kids were also busy with their respective summer activities the week of July 2. Knowing I had four days of the week nearly all to myself (as the weekends and holiday would be family time), I spent awhile thinking about what to do with that precious time. A staycation – for just me! What a rare and incredible gift!

Two weeks before the shutdown, Dan got a new job and found himself with some time off before beginning it. He spent a good part of his first week off getting back in shape – working out and eating and drinking better.

As a result, I vacillated between three options for my week: lazy days at the pool relaxing, an intense focus on fitness, or — what I really needed to do — clean out the clutter throughout the house. Decluttering is on my list every winter break. Some day, moving will be a nightmare because of all the stuff we’ve accumulated during our 15+ years here. My annual decluttering process has never been a success and actually paralyzes me. I’ll buy a box of garbage bags, start with the best of intentions on a messy drawer, move to a closet, and then get overwhelmed thinking of the remaining 30 or so drawers, half a dozen book cases and all the closets and shelves left to clean. I’ll then give up and vow to tackle it next year. No room has ever been completely cleaned out because of this.

Having this new time off was more of an incentive to deal with the mess, and conversations with myself went something like…

  • [Responsible Jodi] What if this is the year you actually get rid of the clutter? How often do you have four days all to yourself? Why would you waste this opportunity? A clean house = a clean mind. Be well, work well!
  • [Lazy Jodi] Really? You’re going to spend four precious days alone cleaning out the house? If you clean all week, you’ll go back to work exhausted. This is your chance to chill and de-stress. Rest, swim, read, go out to eat, go to a spa. Be well, work well! 
  • [Healthy Jodi] Admit it. You know the house clean-up project is a lost cause. Lazing around at the pool will ultimately make you feel guilty. The best thing you can do with that time is get lots of exercise and focus on a healthier diet. Be well, work well!    

So who dominated? No one, actually. The three worked together quite nicely.

When the first weekend began, Dan asked if he could help with the decluttering since he had one more week off himself. Having him on board to clean gave me an idea. What if instead of setting a ridiculous goal of cleaning the whole house, we took the worst room — the one that annoys me the most — and focused on it together? That room would be our office. Dan was self-employed for several years; I work from home a lot; and we’ve also used the office space to store the kids’ school stuff since kindergarten. The amount of papers and boxes piled on top of each other is insane. I hate walking in there but have never been motivated to put in the time to fix it.

My nine consecutive days off ended up being the best combination of me time, couple time and family time. I got my money’s worth at the gym, working out regularly and taking two Pilates classes. I read three books during my several hours a day at the pool, including three luxurious mornings there alone. The combination of sun and exercise helped me sleep better than I had in a long time. For the most part, I made good food and beverage choices. I had a girls’ movie night; Dan and I had a double date night out; and we went to a movie together. Our family spent a very fun July 4th with friends. We all saw the Phillies beat the Nationals, followed by the most incredible fireworks, and pretty amazing local fireworks again at the end of the week. We had brunches and lunches with family members. And 17 garbage bags later, Dan and I FINALLY cleaned out that office. There is actually a floor under all of those boxes and a lot of space on top of the desk! Who knew? I now smile when I walk in there and marvel at how nice it looks.

I saw some great posts of other PwCers who went on what looked like amazing vacations and yes, getting away this week would have been terrific and much more interesting to write about. But Be well, work well was certainly in play all week — and I’m so grateful to PwC for that!

Our Happy Place

Dan, Ryan and I just returned from a relaxing five days in Cape May, NJ. If you’re not familiar with Cape May, it’s a beautiful beach town lined with old Victorian homes – some are Bed & Breakfasts (B&Bs), some are hotels, and others are houses you can rent for the week. There are shops, horse and buggy and trolley rides, ghost tours, mini golf, and a winery, among other things. The restaurants are amazing. It’s quieter than your typical beach town and we like it that way. We call it our happy place.

In July 2004, Cape May was our first family vacation spot. The boys were three months old, waking up every two hours (on a good night), colicky, and screaming constantly from reflux. I was at my wits end from exhaustion and suggested we move this party to the beach for a few days so I could get a change of scenery. I had been to Cape May once with my parents and sister and loved it.

“Are you sure?” Dan asked, probably mentally calculating all of the stuff we’d have to bring with us. “It seems like a lot of work to go anywhere.”

Yes, it was going to be ridiculous, but I convinced him three nights away would be fun. I had another month left of maternity leave and wanted to take advantage of being off in the summer. I also managed to get my mom and dad, grandparents (Mom-mom and Pop-pop) and Aunt Sue to book rooms at our hotel so we’d have lots of help. In the early days, we felt more comfortable going places with an entourage.

We loaded our car with two pack n plays, two bouncy seats, a double stroller, 20 bottles, two boxes of diapers, a tub of wipes, a changing pad, a play mat, two baby bjorns, suitcases full of their favorite toys, and enough clothes, bibs and burp clothes for several weeks.

“Is this really worth it?” Dan asked, surveying the car and the tiny open space in the back for him to see out of while driving.

“I have to take a picture,” Sue laughed. She sat in the backseat between the two car seats and entertained Jordan and Ryan on the ride down.

By the time we had unpacked our car, the sun was going down and it was safe to bring the boys on the beach. We put them in their baby bjorns and they experienced the beach for the first time – one boy strapped to each of us.

That night, Ryan slept in Sue’s room and Dan and I fell asleep around 9:00, right after Jordan did. The next time I heard Jordan crying, I woke up surprised to find myself feeling rested. It was 4:00 am – for the first time, Jordan had slept a seven hour stretch. How amazing! (Note: This was a fluke. I attribute it to the magic of Cape May. Jordan, although the first baby to sleep through the night, did not consistently do this until he was eight months old.)

The trip ended up being more than worth it. We had some fun meals with my family and took walks with the double stroller. There’s something about beach air that is immediately relaxing, and the stress of the past few months temporarily melted away when I dug my toes in the sand and felt the warm sun on my shoulders.

Fast forward to 2008. Mom-mom and Pop-pop rented the Ashley Rose – a pretty, yellow six bedroom Victorian home – for a week in August. There were 12 of us in total. The boys were four and while we had a lot of toys, we could pack like a normal family and Dan could see pretty well out the rear window. My niece, Shaina, was six months old, so the honor of lugging a crazy amount of stuff to the beach now went to my sister, Marni and brother-in-law, Dan. (But nothing could ever top packing for twin babies!)

Here’s what I remember about that week:

  • Jordan making everyone dance in circles to his music
  • Pop-pop playing the harmonica for the kids while they ran around the living room singing and squealing with delight
  • Daily happy hours organized by Mom-mom and Pop-pop that started at 4:00 pm promptly (“Be on time or we start drinking without you,” Mom-mom always warned)
  • Long family dinners with lots of laughs
  • Fun game nights after the kids were in bed with more laughing
  • Ryan locking himself in his bedroom on the last morning and falling asleep, immune to us frantically banging on the door and yelling for him to open it (We finally found a key.)

I also remember this was the week Shaina developed reflux – and screamed and screamed and screamed – thus beginning Ryan’s lifelong fear of babies!

The following year, Mom-mom and Pop-pop rented the green and red Ocean Victorian house for a week. It was just as much fun as the prior year. Shaina was a year and a half by this point, her cries long ago replaced by smiles and giggles. She and Jordan could make each other laugh for hours.

This house also had the added bonus of a room with a pool table. When I found out Pop-pop enjoyed the game, too, every day after coming back from the beach I’d ask, “Pop-pop, ready to play?” “Of course!” he’d always answer with enthusiasm. Sometimes the games were close, but he always won. As a former math department head and calculus teacher, I’m convinced there was something mathematical about the way he hit the ball.

In 2010, instead of a house, we stayed at the Marquis de Lafayette hotel. Mom-mom and Pop-pop rented an apartment on the top floor with a deck and full kitchen, which is where we had our happy hours. We took a whale watching boat ride and Ryan, who was going through an impulsive phase, threw my jacket into the bay. It was rescued but took several washings to remove the fish smell. Jordan wrote a song about the 50 states (he was six and very into geography) and made us all sing it over and over.

That was the last time the entire family went to the beach together. It was hard after that for my grandparents to go anywhere with a lot of walking.

Dan and I continued to take the boys if not every summer, at least every other. It was never quite the same as those special weeks with the whole family, but we made new memories and have grown to love the purple and white Inn of Cape May. Sue has joined us there a few times, too. Ryan learned to swim in the Inn’s pool when he was seven (Jordan had learned the previous summer), and pool time transitioned from me freezing in the water with the boys to sitting on a lounge chair with a book and/or drink in hand, watching them swim.

As the boys have gotten older and enjoy going out to eat more, Cape May has become all about the restaurants and negotiating where we’ll eat each meal. We often map this out a week in advance of our trips as everyone wants to go to their favorite places. This was the first year there were only three of us since Jordan spent the week in Europe as part of a school sponsored exchange program. There was a lot of room in the back of the car after we loaded our suitcases. It really hit me how much they are growing up and Jordan, especially, is starting to do his own thing.

The Ocean Victorian is two houses down from the Inn of Cape May, so we walk past it frequently on our vacations. If I stop and really listen, I can hear little boys’ high pitched voices singing while a harmonica plays; I can hear the giggles of a baby girl; I can hear many adults laughing till they cry at silly things happening during game nights; I can hear glasses clinking together, toasting the beginning of happy hour; and I can hear the balls breaking, signaling the start of a pool game.

Maybe, the family in there right now is lucky enough to have four generations spending the week together. And if that’s the case, I hope they are savoring every moment.