The Final Countdown for #OMGRobots!

     We've reached another milestone – the final countdown to my son's last Robotics tournament. The. Last. Ever. I will miss these moments. The FIRST Robotics Competition is for high school students worldwide. For those of you who aren't familiar, Robotics season is a BIG deal. My son has lettered every year in high school – yes, at his school you can earn Varsity sports status on the Robotics team! His team has won awards year after year for innovative engineering and promoting STEM in the community. His favorite community service project was adapting ride-on electric cars for toddlers who have physical challenges. 

     I'm a Robotics Mom and proud of it. I love watching my son bring all of his hard work and know-how to the field. He is in his element, and it's wonderful to see him doing something he loves. The FIRST program has been so good for him. He has grown from a shy Freshman to a leader and role model for the younger students. His coach is fantastic and a terrific mentor. I can't thank him enough. He's enthusiastic about how far my son has come. He praises his ability to problem solve and to patiently teach younger kids about Robotics and STEM in general. His role on the team has been to program the robot in JAVA since his first year. 

     The season runs from early January to April. The teams are issued a challenge that is livestreamed to the whole world at the same time. This year the theme was Steamworks. They have 6 weeks of "build season" to create a robot that will be able to compete. Every year the challenge is different. Perseverance, imagination, problem solving, graphic design, physics, math, engineering, and computer programming all play a part. In addition, there are roles for STEM outreach, marketing, social media, planning demonstrations, team spirit, and community service. Each student participating in FIRST gains from learning and applying skills inside and outside the classroom. 

     The students have to complete their robot by a certain day and time. Then it's time to "bag and tag" to make sure it is sealed until their first competition. Since this is my son's last year, I made a commitment to attend every competition this year. There are practice matches, district competitions, and, if your team pulls it off, The FIRST ROBOTICS WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS for the top teams. His team pulled it off. "World's" is incredible. 

     Every district tournament comes with a case of sensory overload, and the Championship is no different. Huge screens show the action on 6 different fields & display the scores for each match. Flashing lights are everywhere – on the field, led lights on the robots, and in the stands from the crowd. There is loud music playing nonstop. Occasionally, videos with 80s music songs made by students are shown on the big screen – themes like "screw loose" to the music of Footloose and "brainiac" to the music of Maniac. Cheering, screaming, and team spirit permeate the arena. 

     Chants in the stand are the same as any other sport. Except in this one, you see robots slamming into each other like bumper cars, yellow balls all over the floor, robots zipping across the field at surprising speeds, hats of many shapes and sizes with lights, feathers, bunny ears, and green squiggly hair. Everyone is wearing safety glasses! What other high school competition has everyone wearing safety glasses from the lab? (Because of the possibility of robot parts becoming projectiles at any moment!). Team names & themes are fun, so are the team flags. Every year these things are the same. Every year it's a new challenge with new rules, specs, and objects to work with. The buttons each team makes to trade with each other cover jackets & capes & down each side of pants legs. Nerds are celebrated and cool! In the last final matches, its total war and just about anything can happen. They leave everything on the field – literally. A graveyard of parts and emotions. A lifetime of memories. It won't just be my son that will hold them close. 
Click here to watch the final match for 2017. 

Kindergarten is Magical

     I found myself diving into the plastic bins in the garage labeled “Keepsakes” yesterday afternoon. I was already stringing along with a head full of memories of my son as a Kindergartner. I decided I could wallow around for awhile lingering over pictures, artwork, and a little homemade book titled “I love school” made of green construction paper. How I’m longing to hold that little boy at the age of 5. 

     His school sponsored a wonderful ceremony yesterday morning. All of the members of the Class of 2017 were honored as well as their Kindergarten “Buddies” in the Class of 2029. Yes, you heard that right, “The Class of 2029”! Those parents were freaking out just like I did at that time. My son’s school (also my alma mater, his father’s, and his grandmother’s) is a K-12 school founded in the late 1800’s and is very big on tradition. When he was in Kindergarten, I remember he had a buddy from the Senior class, but this event was taking it to the next level. I swear they designed every moment to leave me in a puddle weeping on the floor. I managed hold it together. . . mostly. . .

     Every year, the Seniors pair up with a Kindergartener in the Fall and participate in activities together all year long. They play on the playground, put together puzzles, do art projects, and ponder what it would be like to be in the other’s shoes. The Kindergarteners imagine what it would be like to be a Senior heading off to college. The Seniors remember what was like to be 5 years old without a care in the world. They get the chance to play like a little kid and forget about Calculus, AP exams, and college decisions for awhile. 

     The Seniors entered the stage one at a time holding the hand of their buddy. They stopped mid-stage behind a set that was created for the perfect photo opportunity. Beautiful baskets of flowers flanked each side of a display with the school name spelled out in large, shiny metal letters. Each Kindergartener stood still while the Senior knelt on one knee to pose. I lost it as soon as the first kids came on stage. I knew these Seniors when they were in Kindergarten. It wasn’t that long ago when they were running around on the playground and giggling at the world. Memories of each of them popped in my head. After all were presented, Seniors and Buddies sat to watch a video of their year together. The students were all interviewed about the experience. Those little buddies were a hoot! Each class then sang a song. The Kindergarteners did a robust version of “We are the Children of Tomorrow” full of an abundance of jubilant motions. A Senior soloist with the most beautiful tenor voice sang “Go the Distance” as I continued trying to hold back tears. The Seniors were more stoic – they probably should have been taught a few moves to keep up with their little buddies!

     Ahhh, Kindergarten. I remember the play dates, the school trip to the pumpkin patch when I had to reach through the corn maze to grab two fighting boys by the scruff of their necks & lift them to safety, and the handmade kimonos they each wore to a tea ceremony to honor the Japanese traditions they studied. There were mounds of worksheets and drawings that came home everyday. I framed the first drawing that he brought home with him on the first day of school. It is still on my desk. I remember one time another child’s work came home with my son’s. I called the mom & asked if she wanted it back. “No!” she said. We both admitted we stashed items in the trash can when no one was looking – there was just so much we couldn’t keep it all

     I helped plan parties, volunteered, and the women I met were some of my first “mom friends”. After school, someone would bring treats for the playground. The kids played together while the moms chatted on nice warm days. Kindergarteners are just so darn happy!! And oh, the sweetness, when your child wants to hold your hand and show you something really exciting. I wish I knew that the last time he held my hand would actually be the last. The moment sneaks up on you, and then it’s gone. Gone forever. 

     The ceremony closed like it always does – with the singing of the school song. Secretly, it’s always my favorite part. After all, it’s my school song too. I hold my head up high and sing as clear and loud as I dare. It takes me back to all of the times I was on that stage, and I rejoice in singing my favorite stanza. . .

    “Proud to be your son’s and daughters, Proud to bear your name. Sad indeed we’ll be to leave you, Leave your halls of fame.”

     With each ceremony and each tradition, my son is slowly making his way out the door. I hope this song rings as true for him as it has for me these many years later. Is it too much to hope he enrolls his child at this school? He will experience the joy of watching his child grow up with a Senior Buddy to help show him the way. Maybe then he’ll understand why his mother is such a hot mess of tears and, yet, so very thankful for the memories. 

My son’s Oncology Report

     I am driving my son crazy. I’m on a mission to get him thoroughly checked out by all of his doctors before he leaves for college. I’ve made appointments with practically ever doctor he’s ever seen in these last few weeks of school. I realize this sounds pretty obsessive. What you need to understand is that my child has been in a fight for his life a good chunk of his 18 years. I have gone to battle with him several times. I worry about his health. I worry that I won’t be able to monitor his health now that he’s an adult and leaving for college. 

     My son was born two months early, possibly because I have lupus. We closed on our first home at the same time I was put on bed rest. He was born 18 days after we moved in. This was his first time his health was in jeopardy. Born at 5 lbs. 9 oz., he was the biggest baby in the NICU for his three week stay. He still needed special monitoring just like all of the other preemies.

     When it was time to go home, a specialist told us there was a possibility he had cerebral palsy. He demonstrated increased lower extremity tone. An official diagnosis would not occur until he was a year old. In the meantime, we were told to do exercises with him at home and seek out a pediatric occupational and physical therapist to follow him for this possibility.

     Because of his many challenges that first year, I took him to over 100 doctors appointments with specialists and therapists in addition to check-ups with his pediatrician. He was fitted for a special helmet for plagiocephaly (a fancy term for his head not being evenly shaped). He had trouble with his vision. He received therapy for meeting developmental milestones three times a week. We visited many hospitals and specialized clinics. We are fortunate to live in an urban area with access to excellent health care. 

     I felt all along that he did not have cerebral palsy. He moved with some stiffness in his legs, but he could do and meet all of the milestones for a newborn. At five months old, I took him to a checkup with his developmental specialist. I showed her a game we played. He sat on my lap facing me and I held onto his hands. I would raise his arms and say “up”, and he would stand up. Then, I’d put his arms back and say “down”, and he would sit back down in my lap. The doctor said that she would never have believed that if it hadn’t occurred right in front of her. He giggled and smiled every time we played the “up and down game”. We were relieved to be officially told by his first birthday that he did not have cerebral palsy, and his symptoms had been resolved. 

     He continued to have challenges. He had trouble with his vision which required that he wear an eye patch on one eye. He was diagnosed with strabismus – his eyes wandered and would not always point in the same direction. He had therapists come to the house and play games with him to assess his “tracking” and treat him with play therapy to strengthen and focus his eyes. At 12 months, his Ophthalmologist decided to perform surgery to correct his vision. It helped, but he would later have the surgery repeated when he was eight. He still has this challenge, but it is barely detectable. 

     At two years old, he had had so many ear infections that his ear nose and throat doctor decided he would need to have tubes placed in his ears. So, off we were to another surgery.

     We were told that he was “speech delayed”. Sign language for babies was just starting to appear in information for new mothers. We were able to teach him a few necessary signs to ease that struggle. We put him in a preschool at 2 years old that was very well known for their child development approach. They noted that he was able express himself by wearing a different hat from the dress up box each day. He wanted to communicate, but just wasn’t able to do so at that point. Starting at age 3, and continuing into second grade, he met with a speech therapist several days a week.

     At three years old, we were starting to feel like his challenges were under control. We took a trip to Florida and had a wonderful time at DisneyWorld. I’ll never forget riding with him on Dumbo, watching the parade, and his excitement meeting the Disney Characters. We were all able to relax.

     Shortly after his 4th birthday, everything changed. He was diagnosed with Wilm’s Tumor, a form of pediatric kidney cancer. Our world started spinning. He would need immediate surgery to remove one of his kidneys & 18 weeks of chemotherapy. That first night was like nothing I’d ever experienced trying to process the diagnosis and prognosis. My mother was with me, and the doctors had to give her medical help because she fainted. Oh, and did I mention we purchased a new home and had just put our house on the market 3 days before? Our realtor was fielding an offer and kept trying to reach us while we were at the hospital being told our precious boy had cancer. 

     I remember calling my (then) husband and my father to come to the children’s hospital immediately. We went into battle mode by looking at the big picture and then taking it one step at a time. We called the realtor & told her the situation. The woman buying the house was wonderful. After hearing what we were going through, we settled on a price quickly. She accepted the house “as is” because she didn’t want us to worry about repairs. There was one bed in his hospital room, so his dad and I took turns staying overnight. One of us remained with him at all times, and the other went home to take care of details with the house and get a good night’s sleep. Close family gathered around us, and his classmates families and church friends sent food. The ten days he was hospitalized are a blur. We weathered buying a house, selling a house, moving, facing his surgery and the uncertainty of the outcome, understanding his plan of treatment, and attending to his recovery within ten days. When he was released, we went home to our new house.

     I took him out of preschool to care for him at home because he needed close monitoring. Our instructions were to get him to the hospital within 2 hours if he developed a fever. I learned how to put my cheek on his forehead to monitor him without having to use a thermometer. I made it a game it by hugging & kissing him several times a day in an attempt to hide my hovering. We were fortunate that he never had to be admitted to the hospital after his initial stay.  

     We were back on the roller coaster of appointments, special testing, and treatment. When he was diagnosed, he fretted about missing his preschool class trip to the zoo. The Make-A-Wish foundation contacted us after the bulk of his treatment to help grant him a wish. He knew immediately he wanted a party at the zoo for all of his friends. One beautiful late Spring day, his wish not only came true, but exceeded all expectations. He got a behind the scenes tour of the sea lions exhibit with a kiss from a friendly seal, they gave him a special painting by “Lady”, one of their elephants (!), 50 children and their parents came for a party and got passes to see the zoo for the whole day, and he was the most excited and happy 4 year old. We felt very grateful to be able to thank all those who had been so helpful and generous toward us in those trying times.

     In the years following, we experienced normal health-related concerns just like any other family. The time was never right to expand our family, so he grew up an only child. I wish I could say that these latest doctor appointments have calmed my fears, but we’ve discovered some new challenges (but no cancer). I will do my best to guide him and support him, but I know I can’t make this “man” do anything he doesn’t want to do. (He also now has the right to decide whether I have access to his health information. The doctors won’t talk with me without a signed document attesting to his consent.) I will hope for the best, try not to drive us both crazy, and remind him of the words he heard every night before bed growing up – You are the most precious boy in the whole wide world, and I love you. ❤️

Not another class reunion!

     Graduations and class reunions are nearing for many this Spring and Summer. I find reunions fascinating. I appreciate the experiences I had in high school. It was a collective community that helped to shape my character. Guess what – we were all trying to do the same thing at the same time – to grow up and to make our way through life!

     When I go to a reunion, I reconnect with the community. I have a great opportunity to meet up with classmates and teachers at this point in their life. I enjoy finding out who they are today. People will tell me stories about me that I can’t, for the life of me, remember. I tell them stories that they don’t remember. Sometimes you find out who really pulled the epic prank in your Senior year. By your 25th reunion, people are willing to admit all kinds of secrets! It’s a great time for inner-reflection. Who am I compared to my 18-year-old self? What direction did my classmates take with their life? What are the high school experiences that have shaped my life? What did I take away from those years? Am I using that information in my life today in raising my son?

    I have planned of some of my reunions. Let me tell you, it’s a weird experience. As I try to find classmates by phone or email, I find I am the touchstone for their memories as well as a confessional for their truths. People confide they can’t come because they’re very ill; they can’t afford it because they just lost their job; they’re not sure if they’re ready to reveal to everyone that they’re gay; and, on occasion, I’m told there’s no way they’re ever going to a reunion and to NEVER contact them again! (Yikes – alrighty then!)

     I never understand why people don’t go to their reunions. I attended a small school, and every single one of my classmates affected my life and my character today. Even people who weren’t my friends affected my life in very deep ways. Triumphs or tragedies that occurred often shaped me throughout the rest of my life. (They were ALL either triumphs or tragedies – for a teenager there is no in between!)

     We don’t often think about how we’ve affected each other’s lives. I have made friends with classmates in later years that I never would have expected to connect with. I have heard people reveal their high school experiences, and it throws me for a loop! I thought they were popular and happy! In fact, they may have been struggling with some very heavy issues for a teenager.

     Try to celebrate those high school years, whatever your experience. I know for sure those memories and those people shaped who you are today – whether you want to admit it or not. And, go to your reunion! You never know who you might find there – it just may be yourself.