Renaissance Boy

As all good helicopterii know, February/early March is when you scour your local area for upcoming summer programs that will allow children to enjoy high-spirited adventures in the fresh air as they work at their own pace in non-competitive environments that will enable them to discover who and what they are while ensuring successful learning experiences as they build memories that will last a lifetime; preferably in a twenty-first century-ready language, like Spanish. Or maybe Chinese.

Historically Patrick has always been a little hard to schedule.

I remember when he was about five I flipped through the community ed offerings and asked him how he felt about two weeks of golf camp.

"Golf?" he squeaked in much the same way an octogenarian with a trick hip might react when asked if she would mind being shot from a cannon. "GOLF?" he repeated. "I could get hit on the head!"

"Hmmm, probably not, but ok. How about baseball?"

"Hit on the head."

"Soccer? Soccer's pretty safe."

"Not if you fall over and then someone runs into you and kicks you in the head."

"Fine. Hey! They offer lacrosse!"

"I don't know what that is and I probably don't want to."

"Lacrosse is an old native American game that uses a kind of basket thing on the end of a stick to catch a ball and... ."

"Ball?"

"Well yes... ."

"Hit on the head."

As I recall he spent most of that summer in a "Montessori" program that alternated between having the children pick up playground trash that had blown in from the adjacent highway (all they needed were the wee orange jumpsuits) and parking them in front of a Dora DVD that had been set to play in Espanol. On the plus side he was not hit on the head.

Currently the summer... hmmm... I feel a sidebar coming on...

re. Patrick, the boy whose right side and left side were like unto Lincoln's nation divided - while it could technically stand it certainly could not dance. or swim. or hit a ball with a mighty crrrrrrackkk while tiny teammates cheered PATRick! PATRick!

Patrick had coordination issues that were so severe our insurance company eventually agreed to cover both OT and PT for him. We didn't know this in the beginning, though, and although I realized that he didn't have a real enthusiasm for sports I kept trying to gently encourage him to enroll in, say, peewee jai alai and he kept saying he'd see me in hell first. In retrospect he probably had a better handle on his own limitations than I did. But although I could understand and sympathize with a desire to avoid being put in a situation where his obvious lack of coordination would render him the object of groaning and headsmacking (aka Charlie Brown Syndrome) I kept thinking that being part of some sort of organized sport was inherent to childhood, at least in the suburbs, and was especially important if you are otherwise bookish. Mens sana in corpore sano and all that. 

Anyway. He never did take soccer or golf or football or baseball or lacrosse but eventually he discovered tumbling and he liked it and has proceeded to make slow - very very slow; glacial, really - progress at it for the past several years. I cannot imagine he will ever be even remotely competitive but he enjoys it and when he earns a ribbon indicating mastery of a skill on his languid ladder to the Advanced class he feels the tremendous sense of accomplishment that you only get when you have worked really, really hard for something.

In addition to tumbling Steve has always insisted that his children know how to swim, so Patrick took swimming lessons and more swimming lessons and even after I grabbed Steve by the ears and said "THIS CHILD WILL NEVER LEARN TO SWIM" he kept taking them and all of the sudden after six maybe seven years blammo! he learned to swim. Not only swim but swim pretty well and there is talk (I ask you!) of having him join the swim team this summer once he finishes his remaining Flying Fish skill: treading water for six minutes.

[The other day I watched him (him. Patrick. my son Patrick) complete a lap using the butterfly stroke and neat little flippy kicks and said, "So what's the deal with treading water for six minutes? Seems like you could just do it and be on your way to Sharkdom."

Patrick said, "Tread water for six minutes? I'd rather die. Literally."

But I think he'll do it.]

So he tumbles and swims and that was it until a couple of weeks ago when he said that he would like to learn how to...

ready?

learn how to...

ski.

Patrick.

SKI.

PG Wodehouse once pointed out that there is enough sadness in life without strapping long planks to your feet and jumping off mountains and, really, what else is there to be said, but mine is not to wonder why; mine is but to call the local ski school and provide them with the necessary digits not neglecting the three on the back. He had his first lesson a week ago and before he went my mom asked, "He'll get a helmet, right?" and my brother said, "They do helmets there, right?" and I reminded Steve to rent a helmet about fifteen times.

Steve dropped him off and when I picked him up he was sitting next to his teenaged instructor in the waiting area of the ski school. The instructor was filling out Patrick's Mountain Adventure Journal. Patrick was crying.

"I hit my head!" was the first thing Patrick said to me. "Well, my face actually."

This was obvious because there was a ski-tip shaped mark just under Patrick's eye and he looked like someone who had just been, you know, hit in the face.

"Oh, well, it happens," I said, somewhere between soothing and brisk, because that is the only way to talk to Patrick if you ever want to hear the end of it.

The instructor looked up and handed me Patrick's assessment.

"He did really well," he said.

I assumed he was being polite and Patrick pulled himself together enough to say thank you and we left and I thought that would be the end of it. And by "it" I mean "skiing". We returned his equipment while Patrick gave me a lurid account of just how far backwards his leg had twisted in order to swing above his head and smash the ski into his face (sure) and the speeds at which he had been travelling as he narrowly avoided the chair lift supports and some safety fencing and, I dunno, a schoolbus full of nuns and orphans and I realized as he described all of the horrible danger and death at every turn that he was quite enjoying himself. 

"I want to go again," he said as he admired his developing bruise in the side mirror of the car.

"You... what?"

"I want to go again. I want to go, like, tomorrow. Can I go after school one day? Can I go after school every day?"

I said, maybe, probably not and no and I signed him up for another lesson that took place two days ago. I had high hopes for this lesson.

When I went to pick him up he was crying again.

Aw nuts.

The new teenaged instructor, a girl this time, explained that he had been hit from behind by an out of control snowboarder and he was still shaken up. His calf was turning black and blue and his knee was a little swollen.

She handed me his assessment card and said, "This was only his second time out? That's... really amazing. He's already working on keeping his skiis parallel and we were able to start some of the harder runs. He's already a level four. He's really good."

I gaped and Patrick sniffled in a gratified way and then looked completely blank when I asked him where his boots were (spoiler: Steve had put them in a cubby and then said, four times, Patrick, your boots are in this cubby. Patrick see this cubby? This is where your boots are. When Mom comes your boots are in. this. cubby - we went out to dinner later, me and Steve, and our romantic evening started with a return to the ski place to get Patrick's damned boots) so I had to give him a piggyback ride while carrying my handbag, a pair of skiis and his ski boots first to the rental return and then across the muddy icy slushy parking lot to our car.

Patrick made a great show of gingerly arranging his leg in the back of the car, wincing and gasping when I hit a pothole.

"So are you done with skiing?" I asked.

"Of course not," he said. "I want to go again. Can I go again? When can I go again?"

 I am so proud of him I could... I could write a blog post about it. I have always, maybe secretly, maybe not so secretly, worried that Patrick either inherited my anxiety problems or - worse, much worse - I, like, gave him his own anxiety disorder by freaking out so much when he was little and it was only my constant vigilance that was keeping him alive. The fact that Patrick chose to do something quite ambitious and rather scary in the first place pleased me. I mean, skiing! Look at that Leo bloom!

And then the fact that he got hurt - more than once - and still wants to keep doing it... well. The cockles of my heart are glowing. Warm and red.

Go Patrick, I say, and let this be a lesson to us (well, me, really) not to pigeonhole. If you had asked me three weeks ago if I ever saw Patrick entering the X Games I might have laughed until I choked but who's laughing now? Patrick. Well, not Patrick, his leg's still sore and his face hurts when he smiles but... it's an obvious moral.

Oh and the other lesson is to always wear a helmet because you never know when you might get hit in the head. Maybe I'll start a new line of mini golf helmets for children and I'll sell 'em through One Step Ahead. Seriously, could that catalog be any more paranoid?

PS That was the digression that ate the whole post. Next time: summer camp, chores vs allowance and the subtopics "Edward doubles his first week's allowance by asking Caroline for hers" and "Patrick continues to shock our lights out by learning to cook in exchange for an extra dollar a week," books on sex for children of various heights, what ancient burial ground Steve and I have accidentally disturbed to cause us to have both cars in the shop (twice) while both garage doors suddenly broke and the basement insurance claim continues to hang in limbo.

PPS Patrick really and truly has started cooking and I love love love it. The only thing he will not do in the kitchen? Take something out of the oven: "I might get burned!"

Comments

[Christine]

I love your digressions. The thing I'm most impressed by is that Patrick managed to hit himself in the face with his own ski, while it was still on his foot. That takes some skill, right there.

[Alli]

In anticipation of the next post's topic: do you know about MITY? I went for a few summers in middle school and absolutely loved it. Patrick seems to have a lot in common with elementary-and-middle-school-me, so I bet he'd fit right in.

http://www.mity.org/

[Christina]

I am just super excited that Patrick has found a sport he's truly, truly good at! I don't even know why, I just am.

[ememby]

"Seriously, could that catalog be any more paranoid?" This is exactly what I think EVERY time I get one in the mail and also wonder how I got signed up for their mailing list, other than actually having children.

[KarenP]

Do they have a chess camp? I'm thinking maybe he already knows how to play? Ever think about music lessons of some sort? My son started flute at 9 in school. (He is now a professional flutist. Even has tons of videos up on you tube playing beatbox flute. )

[Kristi]

I am laughing so hard! Poor Patrick but on the other hand, he totally ROCKS!

And... well... I didn't wear a helmet when I learned to ski and I took offense to the random stranger telling me I was a horrible mom for not having one on my own 6yo child. (He didn't really - but he implied it. Really.)

[Ree]

@KarenP: Your son is the beatbox flutist? And you read this blog too? I'm dying! Love those videos!

(I played flute 4th grade through grad school, until carpal tunnel brought me down.)

[Amy B]

I've heard AMAZING things about these camps! http://www.concordialanguagevillages.org/newsite/index.php

[Tommie]

I wish, with all my heart, tat my nine year old daughter would decide to start cooking. Over the weekend, she wanted strawberries. I told her to get them. She asked what about stems. Duh, I said, cut them off. She looked at me like I'd told her to go cut the tail off the cat. "You mean with a knife?!" she asked, agast at my obvious neglect of her safety. Girl needs to learn to use a knife is what I'm saying.

[SarahB]

This post makes me want to weep. I still feel like the awkward kid who never learned quite properly how to swim, and I am so glad that Patrick has found his way out of that to excel physically. How wonderful!

[Denise]

I'm glad he likes skiing! We started our boys a few years ago and it has really forced me to face my own anxiety issues (which mostly involve fear of traveling down hills at speed). Having to (re)learn something new has also helped me understand better how they feel when they need to master skills that don't come naturally. Plus, skiing teaches all kinds of great life skills thanks to all the damn equipment--planning, organization, helpfulness, self-reliance, etc.

Have you and Patrick ever watched a Warren Miller movie? Fun for the whole family (except for Anxiety Mom who is continually saying, "Never do that! Never, ever do anything like that!)

[victoria]

I love it that you write about Patrick's sports woes. Love love love it. Not because it's entertaining writing and charming and moving (it is), but because it encourages me.

I have taken up sweep rowing, a brutally demanding sport that seems to get harder the more I learn about it. My erg scores are among the worst on my team, even though I workout with a personal trainer in addition to rowing and erging with the team.

Worse, the coach once put me in the bow of a blind boat (i.e., one without a coxswain, where the bow rower -- me -- has to swivel her head around every few strokes to steer, and all this in the pitch black because we row at 5 am), and even though I should have been competent to handle this task, I nearly crashed us into moored boats and docks twice in the span of five minutes. By "nearly crashed" I mean, we came within inches.

Now the mere memory of that row -- and the possibility I might be asked to do something similar someday again -- triggers a full-blown, PTSD panic attack complete with hysterical sobbing and hyperventilating.

So, I struggle with rowing. A lot. I am pretty sure they would all be quietly relieved if I quit the team. I'm also a pretty bad coxswain (can't steer for shit), and we all have to do our share of coxing, so this is also stress-inducing.

But when I read about how Patrick sticks with swimming and tumbling, and gets better, even if very slowly, and feels huge pride when he improves, I'm encouraged.

It may take me years, but I believe I can get my erg scores down and stop crashing boats. Once I'm better at the sport, I'm sure I'll enjoy it. Meanwhile, I'm getting the workouts of my life, and I have the satisfaction of knowing that I'm sticking with something that's realy hard for me.

[Hannah]

Oh I am SO happy to hear someone else say that about One Step Ahead. I panic and hyperventilate every time it turns up in the mail (pro tip: move and don't tell them, like I just did hahahaha) because? Should I be doing all of that?

And then my husband laughs at me and sanity returns.

I am in awe of Patrick. You couldn't PAY me to ski. And the butterfly? AWE.

[Carla Hinkle]

You know, I am a person with zero, or if possible LESS than zero, hand-eye coordination. I am OK at things like dance and ballet but give me anything with a ball that needs to be hit or caught or avoided and I will miss it or drop it or be hit BY it.

But, I'm a pretty good skier. I have no idea why but maybe skiing doesn't follow along with other sporty things but exists in its own coordination plane. So good for Patrick! Now be prepared to shovel out truckloads of cash for ever because my GOD is skiing expensive.

[liz]

AWE. SOME.

[fidi]

I also have no inclination for any sport. I can ski, however. Somehow the whole weired equipment, the heavy boots, the long skis make it easier to learn. What's a drag on anyone who is in tune with his body, seems to be a help for me. So I can relate.
I can "swim", but only some half-hearted breaststroke.
Go Patrick!
(Btw, I like riding my bike. Not extreme mountainbiking, not extreme street-racing, just exploring outside and being much faster than just on foot...)

[Nicky at Not My Mother]

Yay Patrick! So impressed with the skiing AND the cooking, and still giggling at his worries about getting burned and hit on the head. He is awesome.

As a kid I hated sports, I was unfit and inept and basically completely useless, but in early high school I discovered I loved hockey, because I got to run around and fall over in the grass and get really big bruises on my shins! I only played it a few times and was still rubbish (I'm pretty sure I only scored that one goal that time because the goalie was absent) but it made me feel like a tomboy and I loved it.Maybe Patrick will grow an appreciation for his war wounds?

[Evilisa]

My love for Patrick. Let me count the ways.

[Queenie]

This is one of those posts that serves as a reminder to me to not just write off entire categories of things for my child just because they haven't gone well in the past. Can't wait until Caroline also decides she wants to ski. . .

[elsimom]

Oh this is priceless! I love it! Go Patrick! I have always wondered "What if your kid is really an Olympic Class Athlete (or, you know, is already a level 4 after two lessons) and you don't realize it?" This has buttressed my continued faith that somehow these children find "their" thing and if they're going to be good at something it will just blossom forth somehow. Additional illustration: we are at Chammps. Sports are occurring on many screens. My son looks up at people with helmets and sticks and no ice and says "What is the name of that sport?" We look and we say "That's lacrosse." And he announces with firm conviction "THAT is the sport I want to play." Huh. Okay. So we sign him up for summer thing - half day - and it is hot, and he gets hit by the sticks of others sometimes AND (if you see the parallels, you know this is coming) - He LOVES IT!!! He is excited to go every week to this cold covered dome thing (Only in MN) and run around and throw and catch, and sometimes get hit or knocked to the ground. Who knew?! I find this amazing and joyful all at once. Meanwhile, our littlest has decreed that she wants to play soccer - and she brings her soccer ball to kick up and down the sidelines of the lacrosse dome place while she waits, with surprising aptitude.....so I guess we need to look into that.
Thrilled for Patrick - and kind of thrilled for you too - I love it when our children astonish us in such unexpected ways.

[Nancy]

Well, I am in suspense to learn about "books on sex for children of various heights" next time. I'm guessing I'm reading that differently from how you wrote it. But maybe not! Staying tuned...

[sarah]

I love this. I'm also anxious by nature (and was even as a small kid) and so identify with Patrick's desire to NOT do something that might get him hit in the head. :)
I took dance as a girl but was mostly terrible, except when someone needed to be ultra flexible. I took up rowing in college and while I had terrible stamina, I rocked at form and spent an entire year getting up before dawn to be on the water by sunrise. It was a revelation for me -- even when I thought I'd throw up on training runs, I never quit. I got the most improved award at our end of season banquet. ;)
I love that Patrick just picked skiing as his thing and wants so much to keep doing it, even when it isn't necessarily treating him well. It takes guts to do that instead of just walking away. Go Patrick!

[Jen B]

Concordia Language Villages - start with French now so he can eventually become a Voyageur

[MustangSally]

Just want to point out that a ski helmet wouldn't have protected his face in any case. Unless it was a football helmet. :)

[Erika]

Jen B, I read that as voyeur at first. That was a bit disturbing.
But yes to MITY. My cousin teaches Econ thee and says the students are amazing.

[JP]

That is fantastic! PATRick! PATRick! PATRick!

[Alexicographer]

Have I told you lately that I love your writing? If not, please allow me to do so. Also am quite fond of Patrick, but I still think my favorite part of your post was the sentence about the digits, which I had to read twice to grasp.

[Jacqui]

Learning an instrument, particularly one like piano or guitar that requires both hands to work together, can really help improve coordination and also other cross brain activities. My brother who is very smart was terrible at school work, particularly reading and maths until he started learning piano - never was very good at it and never plays now but it helped him so much.

[Elizabeth]

"Sex for children of various heights." Awesome.

[Kerri]

I promise you, I do not normally laugh so hard that I cry when children get injured, but oh my gosh, nuns and orphans...that whole post I laughed so hard my dogs nudged me repeatedly to make sure, I guess, I wasn't actually choking to death. I'm so glad he's loving skiing. Patrick, my dear, you are so very awesome at everything you do, that you will most certainly rock at skiing...but Julia, feel free to keep us entertained along his way to the Olympics with the humorous highlights.

[Chaya]

Aw. Sometimes, completely out of the blue, I think of you and Patrick, and what an awesome parenting job you are doing by continuing to nurture his physical development and get him OT and everything.

I was an uncoordinated child much like Patrick pre-OT, and now I am . . . an uncoordinated adult like Patrick pre-OT. The approach when I was a kid was to just forget about the clumsiness and nurture other, non-physical gifts.

Now, as an adult, unencumbered by the fear of failure or looking stupid, I love to dance and move. So I stumble along, but I always wonder what might have been if I'd had some early intervention. Good for you, woman!

[Sara]

I don't blame him about refusing to take things out of the oven. I still do it with trepidation for precisely the same reason. (And my husband loves to show off the scar he got burning himself taking a dinner out of the oven that he'd made for me while I was drugged up in his bed after injuring my back 3 weeks after we started dating...I don't have much memory of that week (thanks vicodin), but when it was over, I was pretty sure I'd found the man I was going to marry.)

[RocketGrl]

I never quite got sports, was uncoordinated, terrible at them and frequently the recipient of peer administered ridicule. I still cringe at the memories. Yay Patrick for keeping on and finding his thing.

There are these wonderful oven mitts with silicone stripes to keep the pans from slipping. They go halfway to my elbow and have saved me from many an oops. Patrick might like them.

[Marcia]

Yay Patrick - and YAY Julia. Ski-ing (sorry dontknow how to spell that) that is incredible!!!!

[Jenn]

I'm someone who is not too bad at most sports. I'll never represent anywhere but I'll never get picked last on a team either. Snow sports however have me beat. I suck so badly that the idea of paying money to go somewhere and do that all day makes me break out in hives.

By contrast my husband was crap at sports and tiny and smart and slightly weird. You can imagine how fun school was for him. Anyway he's a snow prodigy as well. Jumped on the first time and looked like he was born to do it.

I have Patrick ski-ability envy.

[Barbara]

As a child I was not at all athletic and I hated competitive sports activities (not that there were many for girls growing up in the 1950's). But I loved, loved, loved swimming and skiing. Skiing was like flying. And, although you mostly do swim and ski with friends or family, it's something you can do as an individual, and you don't have to be on a team.

[Erinn]

So now I can't figure out the "digits" sentence. I totally read over it the first time, then didn't remember it when it was mentioned, so went back to find it. Then had no idea what it meant. Help.

[llcsis]

Means her credit card number including the ones on the back that supposedly confirm you have not stolen the card. (How?)

LOVED the post and wish you had time to write a lot more. I need the laughs.

[Shawna]

It was practically a whole new world in our house during the last year when my daughter became old enough to help her brother pick clothes and get dressed, then make and butter toast in the morning.

If this is how helpful she is at six, I cannot wait until she reaches a Patrick level of proficiency in the kitchen!

I look forward to your next post with bated breath!

[Naomi]

My un-coordinated snowflake also loves skiing, but recently ditched gymnastics in favor of roller derby.

Regarding summer programs: if you're willing to drive into the city, check out the offerings at Leonardo's Basement.

[Jujube]

The 'OveGlove'!! Seriously. My 15-year-old daughter burned her arm on the oven last year and wouldn't go near it again. She used to bake cookies all the time and then, nothing. This last Christmas, I found the "As Seen on TV" section at Target and there they were. The gloves were well worth the $16 price (each! - I bought two) because she's back to baking for me again. The gloves actually have Kevlar in them, which Patrick might find pretty cool. Pun intended :-)

[srj]

I was Patrick - the super smart and totally uncoordinated child, even down to the tumbling classes to make left and right work together. Not doing sport was not an option in my family, and through sheer sticktoitiveness and lots of practice i made it to national/international level in my chosen sport. I suspect this is true of a surprising number of elite athletes, actually.

Oddly, it took me much, MUCH longer - well after I graduated from college - to get around to applying the same sticktoitiveness to intellectual pursuits, where i tended to feel ashamed if understanding didn't come easily and abandon difficult things. I think this is common for 'bright' kids, too.

[Kathleen]

My special snowflake eventually found musical theater and can sing and dance with the best of them. Now I get to enjoy his feats of daring-do from the comfort of theater seats. Sometimes it all works out.

Re: Patrick. Any one who can hit themselves in the fact with a ski they are still wearing seems a natural for yoga. Just an idea.

[Katherine]

Ditto for the love of the OveGlove. It's actually like a glove with fingers and all. We now have 3 of them because it's the only potholder my boys will use and vastly preferred by DH and me as well. I've even got one stored away for each kid when they go off to college or apt or whatever.

My kids are on swim team - on our local neighborhood team. They enjoy it and it has made them competent swimmers, though not fast or necessarily pretty. They can both tread water for ages, but swimming butterfly eluded them for years after joining the team. My 13 yo still can barely manage the butterfly.

[lizardek]

Where the heck is the LIKE button on this post??

[kristi]

Love this post & hooray for PATRick PATRick!

[Paqueenie]

Please collate allow your Patrick stories. It'd be a best seller.

Also @KarenP ... my freshman flute major daughter watched your son on youtube for hours :-)

[Doreen]

First - YAY Patrick!! Second - My daughter refused to take anything out of the oven until her second year in college when her roommates weren't home to help her. She bakes all the time now and is better at making bread than my mother. Weird.

[Sandra]

LOVE the PG Wodehouse reference. My family has taken up skiing this winter... and while my kids (11 & 13) and DH are getting quite good, I am still terrified every time I go down the easiest of slopes. Go PATRick!

[Tree Town Gal]

Love this post! Go Patrick!! We had a similar experience with our son who is 3.5 years old. Recently diagnosed with mild Aspergers, he has never been - how shall we say - as gifted in the coordination sphere as his older sister but he's whip smart and knows what he likes. He wanted to ski this year. I looked at my husband and said - no way - this kid is going to put on the boots and not even make it to the slopes. Of course, you know where this is going... he was better than his sister at a similar age and he was amazingly good first time out. Even the instructors were impressed. That little guy was quickly practicing turns and this is 3.5 years old (and not someone who grew up on the slopes). I was stunned and yes, lesson learned... never pre-judge based on your perceived strengths of your child. You just. never. know. So fun!