I realized today that this month marks 5 years since Thumper and I started driving for Meals on Wheels. Much has changed in those 5 years. He almost never comes with me now that he's in school. We're on our third Director and our second route, and we don't get to see our old friends any more, the clients who made a big deal over him, who let him play with their collectible model tractors, and their grandkids, and their dogs.
Most of our new route now consists of an "independent living facility," a giant apartment complex for seniors where resident volunteers take the meals from me and deliver them to the individual clients. The volunteers are incredibly nice, and friendly, and they're always happy to see the boy when he comes, but we don't get to interact with the clients any longer. When we were looking for a volunteer opportunity, and we were failing to find something that felt just right for us, I doubted that I would do well talking to strangers. We were still dealing with nap times, and we were at the very beginning of our playground adventures where he made me talk to people, and as always, my expectations were nothing like reality. Thumper helped to drag me out of my shell, and I quickly learned how to stand on the front porch of an 83-year-old woman and have the same 45-minute conversation with her this week as I'd had with her last week, and to cheerfully change her light bulbs and talk to the cable company for her. I learned to accept that she would drop off the list, as most of the clients do eventually, without explanation, her story never finished, at least for me.
It's still a satisfying part of my week, Meals on Wheels, but things are different now. The women at the Senior Center where we pick up the meals, those women he still calls "the dominoes ladies" because they play every day while they wait for lunch, are still so kind. They always ask me about him, and always make a big deal when he does come with me. When he was a year-and-a-half, they clapped and cheered for him when he banged on the old piano (the one that disappeared after the renovations from the kitchen fire a few years ago), and they gave him candy every week (he still asks me if Ms. Celia sent me home with anything for him if I mention that I drove Meals on Wheels today), and they gave him stuffed animals at Christmas and Valentine's Day. But the people have changed, again and again, and with Thumper at the ripe old age of 6 1/2, there's almost no one left who remembers when he first toddled through the door and helped me reach out and connect in a meaningful way.
Showing posts with label Volunteering. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Volunteering. Show all posts
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Grandparents' Luncheon
The first wave of grandparents came through, nearly as
excited as the kindergartners they were visiting, and already we were out of
grilled cheese. Volunteers stood around in hair nets, gloves stretched too
tight or hanging loose, and aprons like garbage bags. Too much to do and too many
people to get it done. A mountain was forming, though, with no one conquering it.
Trays covered in tomato sauce. Cups still half full of chocolate milk. Thirty
minutes later, I was soaked and splattered, smiling. The mountain was gone. I need
an industrial dish washing machine like that at home.
Monday, August 27, 2012
The First Day of the Rest of Our Lives
As a stay-at-home dad, my only child's first day of kindergarten was almost surreal, a strange mix of emotions ranging from giddy exultation to moody navel-gazing. He's gone from this:
to this:
in what also seems simultaneously like a blink of an eye and an eternity. This parenthood gig is stranger than anyone would ever be able to make anyone else believe with just words. There's so much you can't know until you know it.
It was a grand day. Aerie worked from home so that she could be there for drop-off and pick-up. He was confident and excited and walked to his classroom with an elbows-up swagger that looked like this:
We hugged and kissed him and said our goodbyes. He shed no tears and was happy to see the back of us, but he didn't even mind all the pictures. Next year he almost certainly will. Aerie managed to hold off her tears until we were outside the school.
We came home and, of course, immediately posted pictures to Facebook, like all parents with kids in school. Then I ran a load of laundry while working on a database project. When I began to fold the laundry, including Thumper's clothes that seem simultaneously tiny and, compared to those little onesies of days gone by, huge. That was when the emotions finally caught up with me, sitting in the utterly silent house folding the little big man's clothes.
It was just as surreal how quickly the day flew by. I did too few chores, accomplished too few work objectives, and utterly relaxed through a pleasantly surprising (first-time!) acupuncture appointment, which added even more weirdness to the day. I tried it to see if it could help some of my allergies and respiratory difficulties, but when I mentioned some shoulder pain, the acupuncturist immediately resolved in about 30 seconds of manipulating needles in my shins the shoulder pain that physical therapy and 3 or 4 years of exercises have not been able to touch. I can raise my arms above my head without sharp pain in my shoulders for the first time in years. Because of needles in my shins. Weird.
Wait, what was I talking about again? Oh yeah. End of an era and whatnot. I'm not sure what the future holds for a full-time stay-at-home dad who no longer has to watch a kid full-time. I'm not rushing back into the full-time workforce, though. Aerie and I agree that there is value to having me available, with an early afternoon school release and with all of the sick days, teacher work days, vacation days, and holidays that will come up over the course of the school year, and with the opportunities to volunteer at the school that will also arise. Timing has worked out well with some additional database projects appearing at just the right time through my part-time employer, and there may, with an extra stress on may, be some full-time employment opportunities for me on the horizon. So I'm staying put, biding my time, and waiting to see what happens.
But still, it does sort of feel like Thumper and I, we're walking into the sunset on this whole grand stay-at-home dad adventure.
to this:
in what also seems simultaneously like a blink of an eye and an eternity. This parenthood gig is stranger than anyone would ever be able to make anyone else believe with just words. There's so much you can't know until you know it.
It was a grand day. Aerie worked from home so that she could be there for drop-off and pick-up. He was confident and excited and walked to his classroom with an elbows-up swagger that looked like this:
We hugged and kissed him and said our goodbyes. He shed no tears and was happy to see the back of us, but he didn't even mind all the pictures. Next year he almost certainly will. Aerie managed to hold off her tears until we were outside the school.
We came home and, of course, immediately posted pictures to Facebook, like all parents with kids in school. Then I ran a load of laundry while working on a database project. When I began to fold the laundry, including Thumper's clothes that seem simultaneously tiny and, compared to those little onesies of days gone by, huge. That was when the emotions finally caught up with me, sitting in the utterly silent house folding the little big man's clothes.
It was just as surreal how quickly the day flew by. I did too few chores, accomplished too few work objectives, and utterly relaxed through a pleasantly surprising (first-time!) acupuncture appointment, which added even more weirdness to the day. I tried it to see if it could help some of my allergies and respiratory difficulties, but when I mentioned some shoulder pain, the acupuncturist immediately resolved in about 30 seconds of manipulating needles in my shins the shoulder pain that physical therapy and 3 or 4 years of exercises have not been able to touch. I can raise my arms above my head without sharp pain in my shoulders for the first time in years. Because of needles in my shins. Weird.
Wait, what was I talking about again? Oh yeah. End of an era and whatnot. I'm not sure what the future holds for a full-time stay-at-home dad who no longer has to watch a kid full-time. I'm not rushing back into the full-time workforce, though. Aerie and I agree that there is value to having me available, with an early afternoon school release and with all of the sick days, teacher work days, vacation days, and holidays that will come up over the course of the school year, and with the opportunities to volunteer at the school that will also arise. Timing has worked out well with some additional database projects appearing at just the right time through my part-time employer, and there may, with an extra stress on may, be some full-time employment opportunities for me on the horizon. So I'm staying put, biding my time, and waiting to see what happens.
But still, it does sort of feel like Thumper and I, we're walking into the sunset on this whole grand stay-at-home dad adventure.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
It Begins at Home, But It's Where It Ends That Worries Me
I've spent much of my life as a misanthropic intellectual, but since the arrival of Thumper, I've tried to reinforce the idea, for him and for me, that service to our fellow human beings has value for ourselves and our world. I don't do a lot, but I regularly give blood, and our family donates money where we can. I'm not above clicking on a "sign this petition" or a "send your Senator or Representative a letter" link, even if it does mean I'll start getting smug reply letters from John Cornyn, but one of the things we do that makes me feel best about myself is driving a Meals on Wheels route. It's easy, taking up about an hour-and-a-half of my life each week, but it makes me happy. And since we pick up the meals at a Senior Center, it means that Thumper gets the loving attention of several more grandmas in his life.
Some people have no interest in us, just opening the door to accept delivery and then closing it again, and that's fine with me. Some people on our route are very open and friendly, especially with Thumper, and invite us in to sit and chat and pet their dogs, which is also just fine with me. I've met a couple of very interesting and likeable people, and dogs, this way. We've been doing it since Thumper was 18 months old, and our Senior Center friends and our Meals on Wheels clients have known him for more than half his life.
I'm not particularly proud of how one of our clients makes me feel about myself, though. She's in her 80's, is disabled, and lives alone. She wants most of all to have someone to talk to, and there are days that we spend 20 minutes or more standing on her porch. There are some days when I just want to finish, to move on, so that we can have lunch. Sometimes I dread stopping at her house, and that dread makes me feel guilty.
Recently, though, she's begun to ask more of me. Perhaps because I've been willing to let her talk and tell the same stories over and over, and perhaps because Thumper is an adorable charmer, she's said how much she feels like she can trust me and what a wonderful job she thinks I'm doing with my son. So she's asked if I can help her out here and there. I've changed light bulbs for her. I've shopped for a portable DVD player for her so that she can watch Armageddon prophecy videos. She has talked about maids and landscapers and pest control techs who've treated her badly and stolen from her. She's asked me if I know anyone who can mow her yard and pick up the beer bottles her inconsiderate neighbors have thrown over her fence, help her around the house, and help her sort through and sell or donate her 80 years of accumulated belongings. I connected her with a couple that I thought would make a perfect match for her, but it ended badly, with them declaring her "impossible to please" and angrily extricating themselves from her life.
My former work history has demonstrated that I have a remarkable capacity for monotony and repetition, and I have a remarkable patience for dealing with difficult people with whom others have been incapable of dealing. I could be her lawn mower, and her sink de-clogger, and her Craigslist and eBay expert, and her confidante and companion. She's made it clear that she has money and wants very much to pay someone to be her man Friday. But at this point in my life, I really don't want to. The more I do for her, the more I am sure that she will ask, and I just don't want to be drawn in any more than I already have been.
Does that make me uncharitable?
Some people have no interest in us, just opening the door to accept delivery and then closing it again, and that's fine with me. Some people on our route are very open and friendly, especially with Thumper, and invite us in to sit and chat and pet their dogs, which is also just fine with me. I've met a couple of very interesting and likeable people, and dogs, this way. We've been doing it since Thumper was 18 months old, and our Senior Center friends and our Meals on Wheels clients have known him for more than half his life.
I'm not particularly proud of how one of our clients makes me feel about myself, though. She's in her 80's, is disabled, and lives alone. She wants most of all to have someone to talk to, and there are days that we spend 20 minutes or more standing on her porch. There are some days when I just want to finish, to move on, so that we can have lunch. Sometimes I dread stopping at her house, and that dread makes me feel guilty.
Recently, though, she's begun to ask more of me. Perhaps because I've been willing to let her talk and tell the same stories over and over, and perhaps because Thumper is an adorable charmer, she's said how much she feels like she can trust me and what a wonderful job she thinks I'm doing with my son. So she's asked if I can help her out here and there. I've changed light bulbs for her. I've shopped for a portable DVD player for her so that she can watch Armageddon prophecy videos. She has talked about maids and landscapers and pest control techs who've treated her badly and stolen from her. She's asked me if I know anyone who can mow her yard and pick up the beer bottles her inconsiderate neighbors have thrown over her fence, help her around the house, and help her sort through and sell or donate her 80 years of accumulated belongings. I connected her with a couple that I thought would make a perfect match for her, but it ended badly, with them declaring her "impossible to please" and angrily extricating themselves from her life.
My former work history has demonstrated that I have a remarkable capacity for monotony and repetition, and I have a remarkable patience for dealing with difficult people with whom others have been incapable of dealing. I could be her lawn mower, and her sink de-clogger, and her Craigslist and eBay expert, and her confidante and companion. She's made it clear that she has money and wants very much to pay someone to be her man Friday. But at this point in my life, I really don't want to. The more I do for her, the more I am sure that she will ask, and I just don't want to be drawn in any more than I already have been.
Does that make me uncharitable?
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
SAHD Conversation
He: What happened to your thumbs?
Me: I volunteered at the Housing Authority. I spent three hours on Monday raking and bagging leaves. I lost a little skin on the deal.
He: Why didn't you just use a leaf blower?
Me: I don't have a leaf blower.
He: What did you use?
Me: A rake.
He: Well, what do you use at your house?
Me: A rake.
He: ...
Me: We don't all have multi-acre spreads, you know.
He: I don't have multi-acres. "Multi" means double digits. I've only got 5 acres.
Me: I don't even have one acre.
He: Well, next time, let me know. You can borrow mine. It's gas, very powerful.
Me: I volunteered at the Housing Authority. I spent three hours on Monday raking and bagging leaves. I lost a little skin on the deal.
He: Why didn't you just use a leaf blower?
Me: I don't have a leaf blower.
He: What did you use?
Me: A rake.
He: Well, what do you use at your house?
Me: A rake.
He: ...
Me: We don't all have multi-acre spreads, you know.
He: I don't have multi-acres. "Multi" means double digits. I've only got 5 acres.
Me: I don't even have one acre.
He: Well, next time, let me know. You can borrow mine. It's gas, very powerful.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Day of Service
Well, he may have been over-scheduled, but this morning was wonderful. I'm so grateful that Thumper has extended family in his life that enjoy him and are willing to be involved with us. Freckles did an incredible job keeping him busy so that I could volunteer raking up leaves at a housing project. I wasn't sure how it would go, whether there would be any playground or anywhere else for him to be while I worked. I didn't know if the weather would cooperate. But I signed up thinking that if it was a complete disaster, we could always leave.
It was about as far from a disaster as we could get, though. I had a great time working together with a lovely young lady named Jill. She and I pooled our efforts, and I have to say, we were smokin' all those other volunteers. The two of us amassed an impressive mountain of bags full of leaves, we had fun doing it, and I got some good exercise without going to the gym. Freckles came prepared with a bag of balls, toys, snacks, and more, and she and Thumper explored, played tag, checked out the playground, and even helped scoop up a few handfuls of leaves for us now and again.
All in all, a most successful MLK Day of Service. I'd definitely do that again.
Maybe I should start a fitness club, call it Community Service Fitness. Instead of jogging together or working out in the gym together, we could all get together and volunteer ourselves for manual labor wherever we're needed. Might could work...
It was about as far from a disaster as we could get, though. I had a great time working together with a lovely young lady named Jill. She and I pooled our efforts, and I have to say, we were smokin' all those other volunteers. The two of us amassed an impressive mountain of bags full of leaves, we had fun doing it, and I got some good exercise without going to the gym. Freckles came prepared with a bag of balls, toys, snacks, and more, and she and Thumper explored, played tag, checked out the playground, and even helped scoop up a few handfuls of leaves for us now and again.
All in all, a most successful MLK Day of Service. I'd definitely do that again.
Maybe I should start a fitness club, call it Community Service Fitness. Instead of jogging together or working out in the gym together, we could all get together and volunteer ourselves for manual labor wherever we're needed. Might could work...
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Overscheduling
It's been a packed several days here in the Rodius household. On Thursday, Thumper and I drove to Dallas to visit Grandma and Grandpa. Biggest Brother, his girlfriend, Number One Niece, and her boyfriend all came over to visit, too. It was a fabulous time, and Thumper did everything he could to show off all of his skills, especially his sugared up singing and dancing skills.
It turns out that Cuz found me because Biggest Brother had done some reaching out of his own. It was kind of surprising to me, because I'd always thought of myself as the one, and maybe the only one, who was interested in family connections. Turns out he is, too, and wanted to reconnect with his uncle and cousins, and his reconnecting brought me back into contact, too. Thanks, Biggest Bro!
So I just wrote a long "here's my life over the past 30 years" email to Cuz, which has put me in a strange and sentimental mood. Forgive me if none of this makes much sense in the way of a unified narrative, but I felt like I should blog, since my mother wants circus pictures, and I don't have any because I forgot to bring the camera. But I do have a birthday party picture:
Yeah, he looks kind of wiped out, huh? We drove to Dallas on Thursday, partied like rock stars, drove back on Friday, went to the circus on Saturday, and birthday partied today. There's been a lot of sugar mixed in there, too. Tomorrow we're volunteering; that is, I'm volunteering raking and bagging leaves and cleaning gutters at a low-income housing development while the impressively mature young Freckles keeps the boy busy. Which is to say, I don't think that tomorrow is going to bring the boy much rest, either.
Tuesday, though, we'll be back on schedule. He's been a busy, busy young man. Maybe he needs a vacation.
Oh yeah, and what about the circus, which was his first arena event? It was kind of a sad little circus, certainly not the greatest show on earth. The tiger trainer was ridiculous, the sound was horrible, and there were too many slow-paced acrobat and contortionist acts in a row to hold a toddler's attention. But he did really well. The snow cone helped. We left at intermission, but that was longer than I expected him to last. I thought he'd either be traumatized by the lights and noise or bored sitting in a seat. He was a little upset when the tigers had to jump through a ring of fire, but it was brief and he recovered quickly. I'd definitely try that again. He didn't even make us buy him overpriced and short-lived souvenirs. Bonus!
It turns out that Cuz found me because Biggest Brother had done some reaching out of his own. It was kind of surprising to me, because I'd always thought of myself as the one, and maybe the only one, who was interested in family connections. Turns out he is, too, and wanted to reconnect with his uncle and cousins, and his reconnecting brought me back into contact, too. Thanks, Biggest Bro!
So I just wrote a long "here's my life over the past 30 years" email to Cuz, which has put me in a strange and sentimental mood. Forgive me if none of this makes much sense in the way of a unified narrative, but I felt like I should blog, since my mother wants circus pictures, and I don't have any because I forgot to bring the camera. But I do have a birthday party picture:
Yeah, he looks kind of wiped out, huh? We drove to Dallas on Thursday, partied like rock stars, drove back on Friday, went to the circus on Saturday, and birthday partied today. There's been a lot of sugar mixed in there, too. Tomorrow we're volunteering; that is, I'm volunteering raking and bagging leaves and cleaning gutters at a low-income housing development while the impressively mature young Freckles keeps the boy busy. Which is to say, I don't think that tomorrow is going to bring the boy much rest, either.
Tuesday, though, we'll be back on schedule. He's been a busy, busy young man. Maybe he needs a vacation.
Oh yeah, and what about the circus, which was his first arena event? It was kind of a sad little circus, certainly not the greatest show on earth. The tiger trainer was ridiculous, the sound was horrible, and there were too many slow-paced acrobat and contortionist acts in a row to hold a toddler's attention. But he did really well. The snow cone helped. We left at intermission, but that was longer than I expected him to last. I thought he'd either be traumatized by the lights and noise or bored sitting in a seat. He was a little upset when the tigers had to jump through a ring of fire, but it was brief and he recovered quickly. I'd definitely try that again. He didn't even make us buy him overpriced and short-lived souvenirs. Bonus!
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
He Never Throws Tantrums for Them
We pick up the meals for our Meals on Wheels route at a local senior center. We affectionately refer to the little old ladies who congregate there as "the Dominoes Ladies" because that's their game of choice. The Dominoes Ladies love Thumper. They have a candy dish there, and they specifically stock it with the items Thumper loves best. He gets one piece when we arrive, and another when we come back to drop off the warmer bag and the cooler after our route. They often try to sneak him an extra piece, too.
Yesterday, I took the gear to the store room before stopping and helping Thumper choose his piece of candy. When I came back out, one of the Dominoes Ladies was helping him. She gave me a stern look and declared, "You're falling down on the job, Daddy." Then I headed to the back to return the binder that has the client list. Another Dominoes Lady told me as I passed, "I had a dream about him. I don't remember what it was about, but I woke up talking to him." Then a third Dominoes Lady took me aside and whispered, asking if it would be OK if she brought him a gift next time. She has some stuffed animals she'd like to give him, but she wanted to make sure I didn't mind first.
They have long conversations with him. They show deep interest in what color and flavor his candy is today. They let him play their piano. They cheer and applaud when he does, or when he sings and dances. Dominoes Ladies love Thumper.
Yesterday, I took the gear to the store room before stopping and helping Thumper choose his piece of candy. When I came back out, one of the Dominoes Ladies was helping him. She gave me a stern look and declared, "You're falling down on the job, Daddy." Then I headed to the back to return the binder that has the client list. Another Dominoes Lady told me as I passed, "I had a dream about him. I don't remember what it was about, but I woke up talking to him." Then a third Dominoes Lady took me aside and whispered, asking if it would be OK if she brought him a gift next time. She has some stuffed animals she'd like to give him, but she wanted to make sure I didn't mind first.
They have long conversations with him. They show deep interest in what color and flavor his candy is today. They let him play their piano. They cheer and applaud when he does, or when he sings and dances. Dominoes Ladies love Thumper.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
You Met Me At a Very Strange Time in My Life
That's a quote from Fight Club, Mom.
1. I'm not real keen on the new look. I have a suspicion that this is one ugly color scheme, but I was getting tired of the last one.
2. Happy Kissiversary, Aerie!
3. Things have been pretty strange around here, stressful and aggravating and also fun and amazing and tiring.
(a) There are serious disruptions taking place in Aerie's family, and we're hurting for them and worrying with them about what the future will hold and also hoping it all doesn't spill over too much into our little world.
(b) I also spent three straight weeks spending most of my free time working on a large copywriting project, and it couldn't be clearer to me that it's not a lot of fun and puts more stress on my family life. It does pay well, and it would be easier if I were better at managing my time.
(c) I'm struggling to stay motivated with Weight Watchers. As I've noted before, success gives me an inexplicable tendency to sabotage myself. I've kept up the exercise, though I think I've got a rotator cuff injury that's making weight lifting a bad idea. I'm still hitting the treadmill, though. In fact, I had a new personal best yesterday, burning 1070 calories in 60 minutes. I've got to say, The Crystal Method's Drive is my all-time favorite workout album. I think it was released as part of a promotion of Nike's integration with iPod, or something like that, which makes it about as corporate as you can get, but man, it's effective. I only wish it was long enough to get me all through a full hour instead of quitting at about 45 minutes. Keep your eyes on the road, your hands upon the wheel... Bad, right? Wait a minute, what was I talking about again? Oh, right. Stalling on the weight loss. Yeah.
(d) Thumper's been testing a lot of limits lately, and has developed a strong tendency to contradict everything that's said to him. We have whining, and screaming fits, and "I won't..." and "I can't...", and conversations that tend to follow these lines:
Me: "It's raining."
He: "No, it's not raining."
Me: "It's not?"
He: "No, it's raining."
So the stress and frustration from (a), (b), and (c) tend to make (d) less bearable, but every day I'm reminded by the people around me how wonderful he is. Wherever we go, people tell me how cute and big and smart he is. We had one of our best playdates ever this week, with 4 other kids on the playground all about the same age as he. The kids played together and shared toys with minimal friction, the 2 moms, a babysitter, another dad and I were all friendly and talked Halloween and potty training and developmental milestones and mothers-in-law. And they all expressed amazement at Thumper's age. The dad even said, "He can't do that yet!" when Thumper pedaled a borrowed tricycle on a circuit round and round the playground. So I'm daily reminded how lucky we are with him, but still, I'm doing a lot of yelling lately.
So, uh, yeah, all of that just to say I haven't updated much lately, and I don't like my new layout here, but I really don't have the time or motivation to change it. We're doing a National Downs Syndrome Society Buddy Walk today, which will be fun. And my beloved database project that was suspended indefinitely has been revived, so there's more work such that I may actually someday be able to signup for ushering shifts online, glory hallelujah. Facebook's responsible for my light posting, too. Curse you, you evil Bejeweled Blitz!
1. I'm not real keen on the new look. I have a suspicion that this is one ugly color scheme, but I was getting tired of the last one.
2. Happy Kissiversary, Aerie!
3. Things have been pretty strange around here, stressful and aggravating and also fun and amazing and tiring.
(a) There are serious disruptions taking place in Aerie's family, and we're hurting for them and worrying with them about what the future will hold and also hoping it all doesn't spill over too much into our little world.
(b) I also spent three straight weeks spending most of my free time working on a large copywriting project, and it couldn't be clearer to me that it's not a lot of fun and puts more stress on my family life. It does pay well, and it would be easier if I were better at managing my time.
(c) I'm struggling to stay motivated with Weight Watchers. As I've noted before, success gives me an inexplicable tendency to sabotage myself. I've kept up the exercise, though I think I've got a rotator cuff injury that's making weight lifting a bad idea. I'm still hitting the treadmill, though. In fact, I had a new personal best yesterday, burning 1070 calories in 60 minutes. I've got to say, The Crystal Method's Drive is my all-time favorite workout album. I think it was released as part of a promotion of Nike's integration with iPod, or something like that, which makes it about as corporate as you can get, but man, it's effective. I only wish it was long enough to get me all through a full hour instead of quitting at about 45 minutes. Keep your eyes on the road, your hands upon the wheel... Bad, right? Wait a minute, what was I talking about again? Oh, right. Stalling on the weight loss. Yeah.
(d) Thumper's been testing a lot of limits lately, and has developed a strong tendency to contradict everything that's said to him. We have whining, and screaming fits, and "I won't..." and "I can't...", and conversations that tend to follow these lines:
Me: "It's raining."
He: "No, it's not raining."
Me: "It's not?"
He: "No, it's raining."
So the stress and frustration from (a), (b), and (c) tend to make (d) less bearable, but every day I'm reminded by the people around me how wonderful he is. Wherever we go, people tell me how cute and big and smart he is. We had one of our best playdates ever this week, with 4 other kids on the playground all about the same age as he. The kids played together and shared toys with minimal friction, the 2 moms, a babysitter, another dad and I were all friendly and talked Halloween and potty training and developmental milestones and mothers-in-law. And they all expressed amazement at Thumper's age. The dad even said, "He can't do that yet!" when Thumper pedaled a borrowed tricycle on a circuit round and round the playground. So I'm daily reminded how lucky we are with him, but still, I'm doing a lot of yelling lately.
So, uh, yeah, all of that just to say I haven't updated much lately, and I don't like my new layout here, but I really don't have the time or motivation to change it. We're doing a National Downs Syndrome Society Buddy Walk today, which will be fun. And my beloved database project that was suspended indefinitely has been revived, so there's more work such that I may actually someday be able to signup for ushering shifts online, glory hallelujah. Facebook's responsible for my light posting, too. Curse you, you evil Bejeweled Blitz!
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
That'll Work
That was a lot easier and less awkward than I thought it would be. I've delivered pizza through a couple of different periods in my life, and this wasn't so different, excepting the 32-or-so pounds of toddler.
The Volunteer Coordinator told me it would be 10am-11am, so we got there about 15 minutes early, anticipating that the Director would want to go over my paperwork or give me some training. Training took about 45 seconds, and meals weren't ready until 10:20, so we had quite a bit of time to kill. A Senior Center shares the space, so Thumper watched the ladies playing dominoes and did his best to lose all the balls out of the bingo tumbler. He also did his best to get the glitter paint out of the tube, but he was thwarted in his designs. I don't think I was keeping tight enough of a leash on him for the taste of one of the ladies, who seemed quite anxious for his safety, but he survived the experience with no (additional) injuries or marks.
Finally we hit the road with a cooler, a warmer, and a 3-ring notebook that had our client list and route maps. It was all very easy. We were done in about 45 minutes, with 8 total clients, only 6 of whom were actually receiving meals today. Everybody got one of each item, so there was no worrying about accidentally giving the wrong meals to the wrong clients, and no one seemed upset about Thumper tagging along. I tried to be friendly and outgoing, but only one client was even remotely interested in chatting, so the social awkwardness was, as it usually is, far less than I anticipated. And Thumper quite enjoyed the several dogs we met, though he didn't have much to say to the people. It takes him a little bit to warm up to folks, and we didn't stay anywhere for very long.
Piece of cake. We can do this. It was a lot of hoisting in and out of the car, but Thumper didn't seem to mind, and it's more exercise for me hauling him around like that. He's usually napping by 10, and we didn't get home until 11:30. He fell asleep in the car after we dropped our stuff off at the Center, and he was pretty cranky about me taking him out of the car and changing his diaper, but he was unconscious again almost immediately. I don't know what this might do to the rest of our day. Maybe I should start keeping him up later every day so by next week he'll be used to it. Or maybe we'll just play it by ear and see what happens.
So, thumbs up! It was easy, didn't take long, and made me feel good. Can't beat that!
The Volunteer Coordinator told me it would be 10am-11am, so we got there about 15 minutes early, anticipating that the Director would want to go over my paperwork or give me some training. Training took about 45 seconds, and meals weren't ready until 10:20, so we had quite a bit of time to kill. A Senior Center shares the space, so Thumper watched the ladies playing dominoes and did his best to lose all the balls out of the bingo tumbler. He also did his best to get the glitter paint out of the tube, but he was thwarted in his designs. I don't think I was keeping tight enough of a leash on him for the taste of one of the ladies, who seemed quite anxious for his safety, but he survived the experience with no (additional) injuries or marks.
Finally we hit the road with a cooler, a warmer, and a 3-ring notebook that had our client list and route maps. It was all very easy. We were done in about 45 minutes, with 8 total clients, only 6 of whom were actually receiving meals today. Everybody got one of each item, so there was no worrying about accidentally giving the wrong meals to the wrong clients, and no one seemed upset about Thumper tagging along. I tried to be friendly and outgoing, but only one client was even remotely interested in chatting, so the social awkwardness was, as it usually is, far less than I anticipated. And Thumper quite enjoyed the several dogs we met, though he didn't have much to say to the people. It takes him a little bit to warm up to folks, and we didn't stay anywhere for very long.
Piece of cake. We can do this. It was a lot of hoisting in and out of the car, but Thumper didn't seem to mind, and it's more exercise for me hauling him around like that. He's usually napping by 10, and we didn't get home until 11:30. He fell asleep in the car after we dropped our stuff off at the Center, and he was pretty cranky about me taking him out of the car and changing his diaper, but he was unconscious again almost immediately. I don't know what this might do to the rest of our day. Maybe I should start keeping him up later every day so by next week he'll be used to it. Or maybe we'll just play it by ear and see what happens.
So, thumbs up! It was easy, didn't take long, and made me feel good. Can't beat that!
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Volunteering Possibilities, Part II
We got our contact info for the next volunteer opportunity.
1. Elderhaven Adult Day Health Care Centers
I spoke to the Director, and she sounded far less optimistic that there would be something I could do while simultaneously keeping the boy out of trouble. She's particularly concerned that the old folks might trip over him. When the weather's nicer, she wants me to come by and see the facility, and maybe there's something we can do outside.
2. The Care Communities
3. Meals on Wheels
We'll be trying this one on Tuesday. I was hesitant about this because I wasn't sure about adding more time in the car to Thumper's schedule, and given that more than a couple of people at the nursing home weren't too keen on having him around, I wasn't too sure about bringing him into other people's homes when we deliver meals. But it's only an hour a week, so we're going to see how it goes. It encroaches on his morning nap, too, but maybe this is what will get his nap schedule to finally shift. I'm a little nervous. Social awkwardness, here we come! I'm looking forward to it, too, though.
4. Texas Baptist Children's Home
5. Austin Children's Museum
I spoke to the Director, and she sounded far less optimistic that there would be something I could do while simultaneously keeping the boy out of trouble. She's particularly concerned that the old folks might trip over him. When the weather's nicer, she wants me to come by and see the facility, and maybe there's something we can do outside.
2. The Care Communities
3. Meals on Wheels
We'll be trying this one on Tuesday. I was hesitant about this because I wasn't sure about adding more time in the car to Thumper's schedule, and given that more than a couple of people at the nursing home weren't too keen on having him around, I wasn't too sure about bringing him into other people's homes when we deliver meals. But it's only an hour a week, so we're going to see how it goes. It encroaches on his morning nap, too, but maybe this is what will get his nap schedule to finally shift. I'm a little nervous. Social awkwardness, here we come! I'm looking forward to it, too, though.
4. Texas Baptist Children's Home
5. Austin Children's Museum
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Volunteering Possibilities
Volunteering with an 18-month-old may be a tougher proposition than I expected. I contacted a local Volunteer Center and spoke with a Volunteer Coordinator, and she seemed quite optimistic that we could find something. Here are the ideas she had. So far, she's only given me contact info for the first one. I'll keep trying and see what we can come up with.
1. Elderhaven Adult Day Health Care Centers
I spoke to the Director, and she sounded far less optimistic that there would be something I could do while simultaneously keeping the boy out of trouble. She's particularly concerned that the old folks might trip over him. When the weather's nicer, she wants me to come by and see the facility, and maybe there's something we can do outside.
2. The Care Communities
3. Meals on Wheels
4. Texas Baptist Children's Home
5. Austin Children's Museum
1. Elderhaven Adult Day Health Care Centers
I spoke to the Director, and she sounded far less optimistic that there would be something I could do while simultaneously keeping the boy out of trouble. She's particularly concerned that the old folks might trip over him. When the weather's nicer, she wants me to come by and see the facility, and maybe there's something we can do outside.
2. The Care Communities
3. Meals on Wheels
4. Texas Baptist Children's Home
5. Austin Children's Museum
Friday, December 5, 2008
Huh. Wow. Bleak. Merry Christmas!
I really wasn't sure if it was a good idea or not. Do people take babies to nursing homes where they have no friends or relatives in residence? Will he make the old folks sick? Will they make him sick? Will the whirling Hurricane Thumper break fragile bones as he tears gleefully through the joint?
So I called, and said, "I don't know if this is a good idea or not, but here's the thought I had..."
The lady said, "Sure! Great! I don't know if he'll be scared or not, but we'd love to see him!"
I asked, "Is there a common area where people gather?"
She said, "Yeah. Yeah. Or you can go to people's rooms."
Oh, no. Individual rooms? How would that work? Knock knock. "Hi there! I thought you'd like to look at my baby!" No. Plus, I reasoned, there's probably a lot of stuff for him to get into in a person's room. I figured we'd start in the lobby and see where the boy's feet took us. I checked with the missus to see if she had any objections (she did not), so I decided this afternoon would be the time.
I almost talked myself out of it, because I have a strong aversion to awkward social situations. This is the reason I can almost never sit through an entire episode of The Office without changing the channel. I'm terrible at making small talk. I'm terrible at introducing myself to strangers. But I told myself there was a reason the idea came to me, and I couldn't find out what that reason was if I never followed through. Besides, I figured young Thumper would do all the work and break all the conversational ice. I even Googled for tips for visiting nursing homes, but when the pdf I found suggested reading Scripture, I thought, "Well, we'll just wing it and see how it goes." So we did.
We started in the lobby, and I immediately felt like maybe this would be OK. There were two residents sitting in the lobby, and one was very friendly and chatty and seemed quite taken by the boy. He played shy at first, but he warmed up pretty quickly. They talked about the Christmas tree, and how pretty it was, and how those were indeed balls hanging from it.
"Gummas?" He asked her.
"Yes, I'm a grandma," she answered.
"Gumpa," he said, and toddled off down the hall.
He found a few grandpas, but the grandmas were much more susceptible to his charms. There was a little lounge area right by the central nursing station, and a group of residents that waxed and waned from as few as five to as many as ten gathered here. Thumper again went shy, but when the friendliest and most talkative of the bunch rolled her walker towards him and told him it was a car, he grabbed it and "vroom, vroom"ed it all around. I followed him around and made sure he didn't slam it into anybody. She was very sweet to him. Every few minutes, she would ask me how old he was. I would answer. She would say he was a big boy and tell me she had four little boys just like him. Then a few minutes later, she'd ask me again.
One nurse took up a defensive position in front of a wheelchair-bound resident's feet, put a hand on my shoulder, and said, "We have to be careful of her feet."
"OK," I said.
"Bless you," she said, and disappeared. I was immediately certain that Thumper would eventually trip and fall and snap one of her feet off at the ankles.
But of course, he didn't. He was the charmer I was sure he would be. He flirted with the four friendliest ladies who flirted back. He slowly approached one stone-faced gentleman, waving and saying, "Hi! Hi!" When the man didn't respond, Thumper let him be. He ran and ran laps around the nursing station, filling the room with laughter, both his own and that of the staff and a few of the residents. He explored down two of the hallways, peering into the rooms, but always came back to the four ladies in the middle. He sang, he jumped, he danced, he stomped, and he spun in circles. And when we waved goodbye to everyone and left, even the stone-faced man smiled and waved back.
So that's a success, right? Then why do I feel so bleak about it? I'd like to say we'll go back again, but I'm not sure. Why?
So many people just sitting and staring. Those dark rooms occupied by tiny people staring silently off into space or peering into miniature televisions, intently watching a mulleted John Stamos on Full House.
The anxious woman who raised her shaking hands and said, "No, no, no, no, no, no..." to Thumper whenever he approached her. So of course he was fascinated by her. She had a beat-up, red stuffed animal hanging from the side of her walker. He wanted to touch it. She very much didn't want him to. He kept coming back again and again, and filled her with the same anxiety every time.
The woman who every few seconds moaned piteously, "I'm all alone..."
But most of all, I feel like I'm being presumptuous, or condescending, like I'm walking through the door and saying, "Hey, you sick and unhappy people! I'm here with my adorable baby! Cheer up and pay homage to him!"
Yes, he made some people smile. And yes, some people either completely ignored him or were put off by him. And yes, I was generally uncomfortable and a poor conversationalist except when asked direct questions about the boy. I don't know if this will become a thing with us. I tend to think not. And that makes me feel a little guilty.
So I called, and said, "I don't know if this is a good idea or not, but here's the thought I had..."
The lady said, "Sure! Great! I don't know if he'll be scared or not, but we'd love to see him!"
I asked, "Is there a common area where people gather?"
She said, "Yeah. Yeah. Or you can go to people's rooms."
Oh, no. Individual rooms? How would that work? Knock knock. "Hi there! I thought you'd like to look at my baby!" No. Plus, I reasoned, there's probably a lot of stuff for him to get into in a person's room. I figured we'd start in the lobby and see where the boy's feet took us. I checked with the missus to see if she had any objections (she did not), so I decided this afternoon would be the time.
I almost talked myself out of it, because I have a strong aversion to awkward social situations. This is the reason I can almost never sit through an entire episode of The Office without changing the channel. I'm terrible at making small talk. I'm terrible at introducing myself to strangers. But I told myself there was a reason the idea came to me, and I couldn't find out what that reason was if I never followed through. Besides, I figured young Thumper would do all the work and break all the conversational ice. I even Googled for tips for visiting nursing homes, but when the pdf I found suggested reading Scripture, I thought, "Well, we'll just wing it and see how it goes." So we did.
We started in the lobby, and I immediately felt like maybe this would be OK. There were two residents sitting in the lobby, and one was very friendly and chatty and seemed quite taken by the boy. He played shy at first, but he warmed up pretty quickly. They talked about the Christmas tree, and how pretty it was, and how those were indeed balls hanging from it.
"Gummas?" He asked her.
"Yes, I'm a grandma," she answered.
"Gumpa," he said, and toddled off down the hall.
He found a few grandpas, but the grandmas were much more susceptible to his charms. There was a little lounge area right by the central nursing station, and a group of residents that waxed and waned from as few as five to as many as ten gathered here. Thumper again went shy, but when the friendliest and most talkative of the bunch rolled her walker towards him and told him it was a car, he grabbed it and "vroom, vroom"ed it all around. I followed him around and made sure he didn't slam it into anybody. She was very sweet to him. Every few minutes, she would ask me how old he was. I would answer. She would say he was a big boy and tell me she had four little boys just like him. Then a few minutes later, she'd ask me again.
One nurse took up a defensive position in front of a wheelchair-bound resident's feet, put a hand on my shoulder, and said, "We have to be careful of her feet."
"OK," I said.
"Bless you," she said, and disappeared. I was immediately certain that Thumper would eventually trip and fall and snap one of her feet off at the ankles.
But of course, he didn't. He was the charmer I was sure he would be. He flirted with the four friendliest ladies who flirted back. He slowly approached one stone-faced gentleman, waving and saying, "Hi! Hi!" When the man didn't respond, Thumper let him be. He ran and ran laps around the nursing station, filling the room with laughter, both his own and that of the staff and a few of the residents. He explored down two of the hallways, peering into the rooms, but always came back to the four ladies in the middle. He sang, he jumped, he danced, he stomped, and he spun in circles. And when we waved goodbye to everyone and left, even the stone-faced man smiled and waved back.
So that's a success, right? Then why do I feel so bleak about it? I'd like to say we'll go back again, but I'm not sure. Why?
So many people just sitting and staring. Those dark rooms occupied by tiny people staring silently off into space or peering into miniature televisions, intently watching a mulleted John Stamos on Full House.
The anxious woman who raised her shaking hands and said, "No, no, no, no, no, no..." to Thumper whenever he approached her. So of course he was fascinated by her. She had a beat-up, red stuffed animal hanging from the side of her walker. He wanted to touch it. She very much didn't want him to. He kept coming back again and again, and filled her with the same anxiety every time.
The woman who every few seconds moaned piteously, "I'm all alone..."
But most of all, I feel like I'm being presumptuous, or condescending, like I'm walking through the door and saying, "Hey, you sick and unhappy people! I'm here with my adorable baby! Cheer up and pay homage to him!"
Yes, he made some people smile. And yes, some people either completely ignored him or were put off by him. And yes, I was generally uncomfortable and a poor conversationalist except when asked direct questions about the boy. I don't know if this will become a thing with us. I tend to think not. And that makes me feel a little guilty.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Do People Do This Kind of Thing?
I've been trying to think of volunteer opportunities that I could take advantage of with the boy. I'm thinking about Meals on Wheels, but I'm not sure about putting a lot of car time into Thumper's schedule. I haven't contacted them yet to see what the parameters are, though. But with Thumper being so friendly and funny and a lover of people, it occurred to me that I should take him to a nursing home and see if he can't spread a few smiles around.
Any thoughts out there on whether this is a good or bad idea?
Any thoughts out there on whether this is a good or bad idea?
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