Turf Wars

enemy #1 - headed to soccer practice

My vision for our living space was very clear when we purchased our current home. The boys would have ownership of the bottom level. They would share a large room that would be subdivided into a sleeping area and play area. They would also have their own bathroom. The middle level would be shared living space with the living room, dining area and kitchen. The upstairs? All ours. Ed and I would have our bedroom, bathroom and an office/guest room. To keep the boys happy in the basement, we spent a lot of time and money making the space comfortable and appealing. We put down hardwood floors, got rid of the cottage cheese ceiling, painted and decorated all shades of blues and reds and cars and trains.

This grand plan has been under siege, pretty much from our move-in date over three years ago. In Gremlin-like fashion, the toys migrated up into the living area. Eventually, they found their way onto the top floor. MY floor. Every day I throw the toys back down the stairs, and every morning they come back up the stairs, like stray cats that just won't get the hint.

The boys also like to bathe....not shower. Spoiled little things. Their bathroom has only a shower, so their bath stuff and toothbrushes have found real estate next to my Burts Bees and Body Shop products in the master bath.

A couple weeks back I came home from work to find Asher had labeled the bathrooms in our home. The upstairs bathroom, MY bathroom, now had a big imposing "MEN" sign on the door. The downstairs bathroom, next to the boys' beds, was now the designated Ladies room. He was very proud, so I played along for the day and only used the ladies facilities in the basement, IKEA pirates mirror, plastic footstool, and all.

Only when I found myself walking past my own bathroom and stumbling down two flights of stairs to reach my assigned bathroom in the middle of the night did it finally occur to me.

I was losing this war.

Fearing we were in for many more years of battles, a mini-Vietnam of sorts in the middle of the Northern Virginian suburbs, or even worse, that we could end up on one of those home organization shows on cable, I decided to launch Operation Reclaim My House.

Operation RMH began September 7th and it is no small coincidence that school began on that date as well. The last two weeks have been a manic blur of sorting, organizing, throwing out, giving away. Making sure all little boy things have a home that isn't in my desk drawer or under my pilates mat. Throwing away all signs written in colored marker that tell me where I can sit, sleep and pee.

Overall, I am claiming victory. I even pulled out a copy of our house deed to show Asher that, in fact, our little slice of NoVA belongs exclusively to his mother and father and he has nothing more than squatters rights (he offered to write his name in colored marker onto the deed).

But even as this battle has been fought, the war is long ..... wish me luck.

Best of Summer 2010 in Photos, Part 1

There is Easy Ed holding a "press conference" for the digital journalism students at Fairfax Collegiate. He was very nice to do it after a long night's work and no sleep in sight.

Virginia Beach, August 2010. I think Noe could have stayed out on that board in the middle of the ocean until Labor Day.


Virginia Beach, August 2010. Photos taken of both boys together often reveal how protective Asher is of his older brother. I LOVE this photo....
June 2010. We tried to use the metro system a lot during our time in LA because there is a new stop just three blocks from Abuelos house. It was a fun way to navigate the city. Here are the boys dressed in their LA uniforms coming back from Olviera Street.

July 2010. I love this picture of Asher at his Abuelos house. He looks like any kid in Mexico,
with his flip flops and soccer ball. Except he was in LA. And his Spanish could be better. And he won't eat most Mexican foods. And his abuelos won't let us cross the border right now.


May 2010. Swimming at Lake Fairfax. End-of-school picnic. Pretty sure that water really isn't
clean enough to be swimming in.....

The Beach Boy

I recently e-mailed an author whose work I admire to tell him I was eager to see his next book project, which I had heard him discuss in an interview. I didn't expect a response, but lo and behold the next day, there was an e-mail from him. He gave the usual thanks for writing before closing with the following words of encouragement with regards to being a father:

"There is pain -- there always will be -- but there is hope."

This writer has a son who grew up having to overcome plenty of obstacles, and I had told him a little bit about Noe. I think what he said goes for any parent when it comes to raising children, but it seems to ring particularly true if your child has special needs. There is a constant worry and weariness that comes with each day, you're terrified at how he'll maneuver the world after you're not there to help him, you fret about the things he'll miss out on that most typical developing kids get to do.

But as he said, there is hope. Which brings me to our trip to Virginia Beach last month.

Surfers Healing is an organization that holds one-day surfing camps all over the country. Because they're free, they tend to fill up fast. We finally got lucky and were able to sign him up for one this year. Based on everything we'd seen and read, we figured he would enjoy it. But as with anything else we do with him, we went in feeling somewhat wary.

It turned out to be one of the best experiences we've had with him.


Noe was excited and eager as he rode wave after wave after wave. It was like he had been doing it for a long time. Very calm, very at ease while waiting for that perfect wave. It was a day that brought great joy, pride and yes, tears. For a few hours at least, all my fears and worries melted away as I saw Noe shine and thrive at something he loved.

It's a great credit to Surfers Healing, which was very organized and professional because we were far from the only ones who walked away with memories that will last a lifetime.


Noe will continue to face challenges as he gets older (he started second grade this week, and turns 8 in December) and we'll do the best we can, much as we always have. But it's days like the ones at Virginia Beach -- the hope that the author told me about -- that makes the pain all worth it.

Peer Pals

A couple weeks ago, I was interviewed by a reporter for our local paper about a program I had launched last September at Noe's school. The program is called Peer Pals and it matches kids in the autism classrooms with general ed peers. The kids eat lunch together once a week, attend assemblies together and do other weekly classroom activities, some more academic than others. Starting the program was partly selfish on my part - Noe is only included in a general ed classroom for part of the day and I desperately want him to have more typical peer models. Many of socialization goals on his IEP require learning to interact with peers, so I wanted to him to have every opportunity to reach these goals.

The program has been a great success and the teachers have really embraced it, despite the extra burden of work placed on them. At the end of the school year, I organized an ice cream sundae party for the kids, which they all loved. Gluten/casein free ice cream, anyone? Noe's peer pal, Sarah, is a great kid and we have been lucky to get to know her. We already have some summer pool dates scheduled for her and Noe.

The article was published while we were on vacation, but one of Noe's teachers sent me the link here.

Leaving the Nest

The boys and I were enjoying the last bit of daylight on an usually pleasant June day at the neighborhood playground. Me with my book, the boys with their cars and balls. At some point, I looked up from my book to see a black blur falling from the tree above. And then another. Upon further investigation, we found two baby crows hopping around, trying to figure out the best way to escape a playground full of noisy children. I looked above and spotted the nest where they had lived, with both parents looking down at their offspring. They squawked around a little and I thought I heard something akin to "We're free! We're free!", and soon flew off into the sunset together....literally. I have a feeling they had booked a cruise to the Bahamas and didn't want to be late!

It's Gonna Be an Active Summer

Maybe he was inspired by his mother's triathlon training, but Asher is off to an active start this summer. We're very happy he got over the lack of training wheels as quickly as he did. Plus, I'm happy that he's doing all this willingly (he now asks for his "bike with no training wheels"). The less time playing computer games, the better!

Love Note

I found this note last week while going through a box in storage. It brought me right back to the Summer of 2000. I always call that summer the best and worst summer ever. Best, because Ed came into my life. Worst, because my dad passed out of my life. According to the date, we weren't officially dating, but rather friends and coworkers in the Oregonian Sports Department. Apparently, we had already begun developing our own secret language that we speak to this day.... a mixture of Spanish, English, Yiddish, Sportese and Portlandese with a little Italian mobster mixed it for good measure.