From the therapy clinic visit, to staying at the Hyatt inside the Orlando airport, to an endless day of flying, to Costco and Fred Myer shopping to fill up our forgotten fridge, to a Hamell on Trial concert with friends Saturday night, to Easter Sunday and Nick’s 30th birthday with a surprise-drop-by-for-a-beer party to close the over-stuffed weekend, with jelly on top.
Whew.
Now its Monday morning and I sit at the kitchen table in a quiet house. Nick just left for work. Elias’s bus picked him up for preschool. And Tonsina sleeps by the door, waiting for me to take him out for a run. And I will. Just not yet.
Not till I give myself this space to write and connect. To process my life with words, with a community who understands.
I need to tell you about the airport.
Seattle. Four hour lay-over between Orlando and Anchorage after a six hour flight west. Elias rolling through the crowds looking for elevators and escalators. Doing his whole body shake when he spots one of his mechanical loves. He calls the flat escalators “fat ones” and the glass elevators “gas ones” and when we finally make it home to Anchorage he says, “Want to go back to the airport.” The boy lives to ride. But back to Seattle.
We take the train from the N concourse to the main terminal and wind our way to the children’s play area so he can climb on the plastic airplane, luggage, tunnels and slide. It’s a strange setting, more so than regular playgrounds, because everyone is there on their way to someplace else. Most of the parents sit on the benches, exhausted, as their children run, climb, crawl, slide, and jump, over-tired but wired and needing nothing more than to move. One dad stands against the wall, where every few minutes he redirects his one-year-old from trying to climb up the slide.
Elias rolls in, far from unnoticed, and almost rolls over a baby’s hand as she crawls out of the tunnel. There’s nothing quite like walker wheels and visual impairment to keep parents on their toes. All eyes watch the boy with the walker. Some look away when I catch them. Some smile.
Elias ditches his walker to crawl so we park it by the side and watch as parents shoo their curious kids away from it. I try to tell them it’s ok, they can check it out, but we all know its not a toy so its hard to know what’s ok. I don’t want them to be afraid of it, or more importantly, of Elias, and yet the walker isn’t really a skateboard to be shared. Not fairly.
“What are those noisy kids doing?” Elias asks me as he points to a group of children who squeal and shout—everyone on the plane-- as they climb on the plastic replica.
“They’re playing on the plane.”
“Yias want to play on plane too.” He says, bouncing in his W sit.
“Go play sweetie.”
By the time he processes my words and crawls over to the plane, all but one girl have moved onto other stations. The girl looks at him and yells, “Everybody climb on the car!”
She runs to the car and Elias crawls after her, he pulls himself up to stand, she glances down at him and yells, “Everybody climb on the airplane!”
And oh my god I am five again. Trying not to cry because I want to play too. Only now it’s not me, its my boy, and watching him get left out cuts far deeper than my own childhood scars.
I want to thrash that little girl.
Elias watches some other kids help a different girl up on top of one of the tunnels and he begins to bounce again. His smile huge. “Yias want to come up too!” he says as he pulls himself up to stand on the tunnel. The kids don’t hear him.
“Yias want to come up too!”
The other kids have already jumped down from the tunnel. Moved on to the next big thing. So I walk into the play area and help Elias climb up to the tippy top.
These are not mean kids. They are just kids playing at a faster pace than Elias. He does not make their radar, their circle, their club.
And here’s the kicker…
The thing that puts me over the edge, that finally releases a flood of tears when we find ourselves in an empty elevator, as all the other travelers without wheels ride the escalator down to the train: I’d never seen Elias so eagerly wanting to play with other kids. Not near them. Not beside them. Not parallel. But with them. So here I am, tasting joy as I witness a milestone—spurred on by a week at the beach with his cousin Tess—my son, who so often seems in his own world, wanting to connect with children, not just adults, and as I watch him strive, these airport kids just pass him by, jump beyond his reach, fly too fast.
I know this is just the beginning.
Just the beginning of a recess that will never end, there will always be faster, smarter, cooler kids who will look right through my son as they leap for the next rung, with parents sitting on benches bragging about their kids, saying things like, “Well, he started walking as soon as nine months,” “My two year-old is very coordinated she can show him how to slide down,” and I’ll be there swallowing my words, holding my breath, hoping for more people like you.
Who understand.
--Excerpted from Following Elias, originally published on Parents.com. Copyright 2009 by Meredith Corporation. All rights reserved. Reprinted with permission.
brooke3359516 wrote:
There's no worse feeling than watching your kid get left out. And trust me, they do it to able bodied (what kind of term is that?) kids as well.
Glad you had a fun break. Tell your parents to vaca in Southern California - it's closer to you and Andrew and there's more of you than them. ;-)
3/24/2008 1:42 PM CDT
Following Elias wrote:
I trip over the term too, Brooke, especially since my own body doesn't always feel so able. And you're right, it sucks no matter what to watch your kid get left out, and they all will at some point.
As to my parents, they're pretty set in their ways, so I think New Smyrna will be their beach get-away place, despite southern cal being a shorter flight for their kids. But maybe I'll start working on the idea, the same way my mom keeps working on me to move back east:)
3/24/2008 2:37 PM CDT
SaraSkates wrote:
I *so* get what you're saying.
how fabulous re 'yias though - that's really great. Back on your home stomping ground, it'll probably be easier to make sure he's better included - maybe not always, but often.
it is just heartbreaking though.
I had another "cool!" moment yesterday - one of those random interactions. Toby and I were leaving a big box store (Linens and Things I think), and an elderly woman was entering using a cane. She stopped for a minute and exclaimed "Hey, now we have something in common!" It was very cool - a total contrast to the usual avert-eyes and stare thing.
3/24/2008 3:25 PM CDT
phorst1075586 wrote:
Oh man. Hard, hard, hard. Especially coming on the heels of good, relaxing family time and a new milestone.
The number one rule in my classroom is "You can't say you can't play". That is, if someone asks to join the game, you have to make room for them. If I ruled the world, that would be the rule for everyone.
3/24/2008 4:13 PM CDT
Deidremz wrote:
Oh Honey, that just sucks. I don't have anything great to say, but I wish I could make those situations go away. I hope Elias kept his beautiful smile and his desire to play with kids today in school. Sending you both hugs and love. Happy birthday to Nick.
D
3/24/2008 9:59 PM CDT
Following Elias wrote:
D, I'll pass your birthday wishes along to Nick and a hug from you says it all. I plan on popping in at preschool tomorrow to see if he's showing more desire to play with the other kids...I'll keep you posted.
P, i love your classroom rule and wish it was written in red in every classroom everywhere. I vote for you for the next world ruler.
And Sara, I love that woman, thank you for sharing, and as always, for understanding. Your story reminded me of another incident at the end of our trip, when we landed at the Anchorage airport and Elias rolled straight for the "fat" escalator, all smiles, a man that he almost ran over, smiled at him, and at us, and in halting English said, "he's got light," as he held his hand near to Elias's head. After a long day he almost made me cry again--but the warm tears.
3/24/2008 11:20 PM CDT
Siddamom wrote:
That's heartbreaking, no way around it.
As a mom of older kids, I can say definitively that things are so much better, inclusion-wise than when I was a kid, so there IS progress, I swear it.
There is still pain, too.
I'm sorry.
3/25/2008 9:57 AM CDT
Following Elias wrote:
Thanks Siddamom. I know there has been huge gains since I was a kid. So I'm still hopeful, even with the heartbreak.
3/25/2008 11:26 AM CDT
Mehitabel wrote:
Oh, I remember this moment too--bringing my tiny little fresh out of the orphanage guy to the hospital for testing. . waiting in the play area and watching him be totally bewildered and bullied by a child 1/2 his age but much larger and stronger. Doesn't it break your heart.
But wanting to play with, and not alongside--that's beautiful and surely he can fulfill his newfound desire at his school? It's always sounded like he's one of the crew there.
Keeping my fingers crossed for you both settling back in after vacation...
3/25/2008 3:08 PM CDT
catfitz wrote:
sad. xxx cat
3/25/2008 5:44 PM CDT
Following Elias wrote:
Miss you Cat!
And mehitable, thanks for sharing your story--I imagine that your heart broke a little too in that moment. Elias does seem to be accepted at school even if during my observations he plays near the kids and not really with them. We have a parent/teacher conference on Thursday so I'll be asking about progress in this area. Oh if only I could be a fly on the wall...
3/25/2008 11:30 PM CDT
Nelba wrote:
This vulnerability on behalf of my kids is what i hate most about parenthood. I'm not sure if this will make you feel better or worse. But Marco also aproached some strange kids this weekend and asked to play.(Also for the first time.) They were much older, related to each other and spoke English - which Marco understands but is not fluent in. So, they weren't all that keen. He tagged along and at one point they all ran away from him. His reaction: "Wow Mama, I really enjoyed playing with those kids."
I guess it's one little victory at a time. Starting with wanting to be included. Maybe next time there won't be a little missy around to influence the others and he'll play along.
3/27/2008 8:26 AM CDT
Niksmother wrote:
Finally catching up on blog reading after Nik & I were both sick all week. :-(
The milestones often seem to come in odd packaging, I find. But I have the utmost faith in these things about Elias:
1. His sunny disposition - he may feel the sting sometimes but I think he lets it go quickly;
2. His fierce determination - this will fuel him to find the ways to be heard, seen, included.
Sorry he didn't get to play with those other kids; they missed out.
3/27/2008 9:18 PM CDT
Following Elias wrote:
Niksmother--thank you for your faith and for your accurate description of Elias's strengths, a needed reminder on these days of filling out paperwork to describe all that he can't do.
And Nelba I needed your story about Marco b/c the truth is in the airport the pain was all mine, Elias didn't seem at all fazed by the lack of inclusion and when I walked in to help him up on the tunnel he bounced and smiled and felt so proud to be up on the tippy top regardless of where the other kids were... So Nelba, your story made me feel much better on Elias's behalf. Thank you for taking a moment to share:)
3/28/2008 10:52 AM CDT
ColbyCo wrote:
Sad. XXOO. Hope all is going well with you after the trip.
3/30/2008 5:35 PM CDT
Posted by: Christy | 09/27/2009 at 12:34 PM