So, How Was Camp?

I wish there was a simple answer to this question.  Was it the right thing to do? Yes. Are we glad we did it? Yes. Did it result in miraculous, instantly recognizable changes? In some of us, yes, but how if affected our boy and how it influences our next moves to plan for his transition to adulthood I am still not prepared to say. We still need to assess his physical health with regard to his diet and digestive system not to mention the dislocated knee (which appears to be fine). We also need to benchmark his academic skills and assess   his social development.  The latter shows greater depth and fluidity, but I can see the potential for him to fall into old patterns with old friends. He seems generally more communicative and more cooperative, though we are still in the glad-to-be-back-home honeymoon period.

Those miraculous, instantly recognizable changes allude to those of us left to fend for ourselves, boyless, at home. My own angst has been clearly documented here, but it must also be said that for all of our hand-wringing the most surprising change was that things here did not change nearly as much as we expected. Special diets, elaborate toy tableaus and the occasional Gerald Mc Boing Boing sounds are not as disruptive to our lives as we may have thought. In our case, the burdens of autism are not nearly as heavy as we were lead to expect – when he was gone we felt more far more emptiness than relief. In earlier years we may have felt it more than we did at this point but I feel the need to point out that the camp experience was more about him being away from us for his benefit, not our need to be without him. Some people really do not understand that. And we do recognize necessity that our other children need to know that his independence as an adult is just as important to us as theirs, which is a point that absolutely must be made with both actions and words. In reality, the hardest part of the camp experiment is that it is so lovely to have him home that we are loathe to think about ever letting him go away again (for the record, he is also perfectly fine with that).

And there’s the rub. The urge to become complacent is, at this early moment, almost irresistible. But we must keep our eye the prize of independence, or whatever measure of it we can hope to achieve. He is vulnerable – we know now that he can endure a lot but we also know that he may be just removed enough cognitively that he might be forced to endure things that he should not. He was in an environment that we knew would not exploit his good nature – where else can we possibly find that outside of home?

So camp, in the end, did not give us as many answers as we might have hoped, but it is making us rethink our questions.

Letters? Oh…you mean theeeese letters…

Naturally just before Parent’s Day they get the kids to get caught up on their correspondence – just in time to ask you to bring them stuff. You know they’ve been sitting around his bunk for a while because there’s no mention of the knee injury. Doesn’t matter – I live to see his distinctive handwriting (best in family), which I keep trying to make into a font.

You can tell that the bulk of his letter-writing experience has been to Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny because he’s got the gift requests down pat – very specific, down to the materials and manufacturers. The boy understands how to communicate when he wants something – he includes visual prompts. He drew the cookies he wants me to send.

Awesome.

Second Phone Call: Talk to Me

Damn the communication disorder. We agreed on early morning phone calls because we wanted the call to be as far away from bedtime as possible to avoid homesickness, which is more likely to strike at the end of the day. But now he comes to the telephone sleepy and hungry, ready for breakfast instead of conversation. Sweet and groggy, he gives maddeningly short answers.

What’s your favorite thing? “Evening swim.”

How’s the food? “Good!”

Are you having fun? “Yeah.”

What do you think of camp? “Awesome!”

I know these are good and encouraging answers, but I want details. Reassurances. Stories. Questions about how things are at home. I remind myself that I, too, am monosyllabic at 8am. More importantly, this isn’t any different from the conversations we have over the phone when he is here. I know that he is looking at his counselor as he speaks, waiting for prompts, and that the short answers mean that he is not getting prompts because they know I will hear it if they model answers for him. I also know that if he really wanted something, he would tell me. All of that is good, but at the halfway point of a 7 week separation I can’t help but want more. I am being unreasonable.

So the voice, with a trace of sleep in it and a smile behind it that I can detect, will have to suffice. And I blog about because as I write it down it gets more encouraging in the retelling.

What are doing today? “Having breakfast.”

What’s for breakfast? “I have no idea.”

What do you want for breakfast? “Pancakes.”

What do you think of camp? “I’ve been here a lot of weeks!”

Is that okay? “Yeah!”

We are coming to see you on family day! “Good!”

We will all give lots of hugs. “Yeah.” <heavy sigh>

We love you and are so proud of you. “I love you, too!”

We can’t really ask for more than that.

But a letter would be nice…

A Week of Milestones

The first week of July is full of memories; for most everyone this is likely true with the holiday but this year I am compelled to make a list:

  • 90 years ago our Mother was born (July 3)
  • 59 years ago our beloved Foxleigh was born (July 8)
  • 34 years ago we had our last 4th of July on the River in Cedar falls (July 4)
  • 34 years ago we moved to Saint Louis (July 8)
  • 30 years ago J&J were married (July 3)
  • 22 years ago I started my job working for the President of MIT (July 1)
  • 20 years ago Dad threw a 70th birthday party for Mom; that trip was the last time I saw him (July 3)
  • 19 years ago we bought our house (July 1)

And this year we took our boy to sleep away camp for the first time. It is hard to say how pivotal this year’s milestone is, but I am more conscious of it here in the moment than any of the others, that’s for sure. And the image that goes with it is of our garden, where 19 years ago the only blooms to be seen in early July were the lilies on the right; all of the rest we have planted and tended ourselves with the expanding sunlight, a lovely cascade down from the elegant Japanese maple. We found that by taking down a birch and a pear tree we freed up enough water to sustain the maple, green the lawn and provide sun for the perennials. We didn’t plan it that way, it just seemed right to trade shade for sun near the house and all of the other things followed.

The Pre-Tromp Romp

Now is a good time to note that, however camp turns out, we have learned and grown enough in the last two weeks to make it worth it. From a delightful and heartwarming exchange with the creators of Hoops & Yoyo to the deepest conversations ever with our boy about growing up and what camp is for, we have already made great strides. We have packed a summer’s worth of activity into one week and watching our growing children do the same things they always have shows us how much they have grown physically and emotionally. So, for a moment, we smile and breathe easier, understanding that we were a little better equipped for change than we thought. Hearts full, fingers crossed – here we go.

Photo: a parade of sparklers.