Two ends of the spectrum

Tomorrow Archer's school is going on a field trip to Wild River Country, a water park in Little Rock. Noel often goes with him on school outings, but this one is especially important. Archer's not a strong swimmer, is highly nervous and sensitive about getting splashed, and freaks out if his head goes underwater. Not only does he need help, but he needs to be protected from his peers who might goad him into dangerous situations or tease him for his lack of ability.

But our usual way of handling this -- send Noel with him for the day -- has been foiled by a couple of time-sensitive assignments. Noel has a phone interview mid-morning tomorrow, and is flying out to New York mid-afternoon. As a chaperone, he's out.

Last week when we were on our way to dinner in the car, Noel explained to Archer that he wouldn't be able to go, and we discussed the options. Archer absorbed the conversation. Then he explained to us how he felt, and he did it this way:

"There are two ends to the situation. If you don't let me go on the trip, I'll fall off the negative end. If I do get to go, I'll fall off the positive end."

That was a cryptic way to put it. My first reaction was to ask: Ends of what? "Happiness?" I guessed. Archer paused for a long time. "Maybe," he said. I hadn't quite gotten it right.

"Well, I can go with you, big man," I offered. That seemed to be the right answer. He relaxed and said "Okay," the way he does, with finality and agreement.  When he says "Okay" with that inflection, it means: "That sets the world in a configuration that makes sense to me. I can work within the world that creates."

Thinking about the strange "two ends" analogy he had proffered, I finally came to an understanding of what he might have meant. I think he was saying that either outcome held dangers and anxieties for him. He wanted to go to the water park, but he didn't want to be there without one of us. In a way, unless we were there to catch him on the positive end, there was no way for him to avoid disaster.

So I'll be there. And as Archer grows and is expected by his schools and friends to be more independent, we'll have to listen carefully to find out where the ends of his spectrum are, and to make sure he feels confident he won't fall off either way.

Waterparkin'

Another hot one in the Commonwealth meant that we spent our day cooling off in the waterpark yet again.  And the rewards were great.  Cady Gray was enthusiastic about the kiddie slides.  Archer, who started his water experience quite tentatively yesterday, spent an hour reconnoitering the "cub" pool, getting out at each depth and jumping in to see where it came up to on his body.  

By the time we repaired to the outdoor pool midmorning, the kids were ready to try new things.  Archer continued what he called "pacing practice," walking to different depths and then getting out.  His sense of accomplishment even made him receptive to other kinds of "practice" -- sitting practice (sitting on the bottom of the pool in shallow water), floating practice (sticking his toes up above the water surface), even a little bit of swimming practice (kicking his legs behind him).

I gently pushed Cady Gray to try some floating and swimming, and almost came to regret it -- she refused to stop, meaning that I had to support her in each position.  Even when I guided her to where the water was only inches deep, she wouldn't stop kicking her legs and padding her arms.  I showed her how to dip her mouth in the water and blow bubbles, and by the time we broke for lunch, she was insisting on doing this while swimming.  I got a hint of her independence as we practiced her jumping from the side of the pool into my arms -- she said a couple of times, "Don't catch me jumping.  I want to do it myself."  

I even got in some knitting-by-the-pool-with-fruity-drink time during the kids' naps.  At bedtime Mom and Dad kindly stayed with the kids while we scooted down to the waterpark to ride the thrill rides, bruise the everliving heck out of my coccyx on the thrilliest of said thrill rides, and nurse our wounds in the hot tub.  Great Wolf Lodge, you've earned your keep today.

Tomorrow we're going to Jamestown in the morning for a stab at shoving some history down the throats of the seven sensation-happy children in our party.  And then no doubt we'll be back at the waterpark one last time before our last night in the bunk beds that Archer and Cady Gray carefully swap between naptime and bedtime to ensure a just distribution of the top bunk.

Carry my water

In keeping with my "step down from soda" plan, I'm just about ready to ditch my flavored waters in favor of straight aqua. And that means I'm ready to say goodbye to evil bottled water with its enormous price markup and nefarious waste of petroleum and landfill clutter.

Part of the joy of making a lifestyle change is shopping for the accessories. Following a lead from Cool Tools, I'm considering a Sigg aluminum water bottle instead of the plastic kind you can pick up at your local big-box. Pros: no toxins leaching from the plastic, stylish, able to hold juices and carbonated drinks as well. Cons: well, it's pricey for a water bottle, but not so much for a positive life alteration.

Before I buy, I thought I'd solicit suggestions from you, the UTC reader. Do you carry a water bottle? What lessons do you have for me, and what products and practices would you suggest?