summer vacation

Books, Boys, and Bodies

Posted on by wkennar
The view from our balcony. I admit – I didn’t get a whole lot of writing done.

For this weekly blog of mine, I generally write about one of three B’s in my life:

–  Books (because a writer must also be a reader)

–  Boys (mainly my fourteen-year-old son)

–  Bodies (living with my autoimmune disease, an invisible disability).

Last week, it occurred to me just how much those three are often connected and inter-related.

Let me explain.

Last week at this time, my family and I were in Maui. 

This was a big trip for us. The last time my husband and I were in Maui was for our honeymoon, twenty-three years ago. Our son had never flown before, and I hadn’t flown since before my son was born. Which means I hadn’t flown since my UCTD (undifferentiated connective tissue disease) diagnosis. Add in my worries about COVID, and you can understand why I went into this trip with a great deal of anxiety. At the same time, I was determined to experience the trip as fully as I could. 

Which is where the B’s come into play.

In terms of books, I brought one book and one magazine with me. I didn’t read nearly as much as I thought I would. There were no days spent lounging by the pool. There was too much to see and do — including a visit to the Barnes and Noble in Maui.

When it comes to boys, my son was much more adventurous than my husband. During the planning stage of this trip, my son had told us he hoped we could go parasailing and ziplining in Maui. I had been parasailing once before, many years ago, on Catalina Island. That time, my husband was an observer, not a participant. And he opted for the same role this time around.

It was because of my son that I pushed my body as much as I did. 

Parasailing? Me? Yes, definitely. The parasailing itself didn’t cause additional pain in my leg. The only pain and discomfort came from getting in and out of the boat. But, it was a small price to pay for the incredible experience, as my son and I rode tandem and admired Maui’s beauty from such a unique perspective.

Ziplining? Me? Yes, I think so. Neither one of us had ever gone ziplining before. We signed up for an eight-line zipline adventure that promised to be something neither one of us would forget. I worried that I wouldn’t pass the knee and ankle check that takes place before we’re loaded into the van and driven into the hills. (On my waiver, I did disclose the information about my illness, and I did pass the knee and ankle check. The woman who observed me and gave me the final clearance reminded me to just go slow and hold your son’s hand to help you.) The actual ziplining wasn’t nearly as hard on my body as the hiking and walking from one spot to another. And I admit, I did slip and fall during one of our walks — thankfully, no injuries or scrapes. 

What an awe-inspiring experience we had. Views of the Pacific Ocean if we looked one way, views of the West Maui Mountains when we looked the other way. 

I felt strong, something I don’t always feel. 

Because on this same trip, I did something I had never done before. I used a wheelchair. A very good friend of mine had encouraged me to take advantage of the wheelchairs available at airports. Don’t waste your legs standing in line and walking through an airport, she said. And she was right. But it still didn’t make it any easier for me to ask for that accommodation. In fact, I waited for the day before our trip to submit the request.

We did a lot of walking during our trip. (Sand is so hard to walk on!) We did some hiking, too. There was so much to see (chickens and roosters in parking lots, waterfalls, flowers), so much to admire (sunsets, rainbows, puffy clouds), and so much to be grateful for (our trip, our safety, all that my body can still do).

And we each came home with one more book than we left with.

Family Field Trips Re-Imagined

Posted on by wkennar

Will Rogers Park – one of our summer “field trips”

Each summer since 2007, our family visits the Aquarium of the Pacific. (In fact, this yearly tradition began the day I took my home pregnancy test and learned I was expecting!)

“But this hasn’t been a typical summer. We had to alter the ‘what’ and ‘where’ of our days, yet I’m proud to say, we’re still acting as tourists in our city. We’re just exploring, observing, and visiting outdoor spaces this time.”

The paragraph above is from my recently published personal essay, “Our End-of-Summer L.A. Field Trips” which was recently published at L.A. Parent. You can read it here.

And no, we didn’t visit the Aquarium this year. (Though the Aquarium does now offer outdoor admission.)

 

Our Family’s Version of Summer Brain Drain

Posted on by wkennar

Have you heard of “summer brain drain?”  

It’s a catch-all phrase representing the lack of learning that happens during summer vacation.  The time when children aren’t actively engaged, aren’t learning, aren’t practicing what they’ve already learned, and aren’t reading.

I’m proud to say it’s not an issue in our house.  

And don’t think that means I’m bragging. 

And please don’t think that means I have my eleven-year-old son sitting down, completing worksheets and practice books. 

Because I don’t.

It’s just that in our house, there is always some sort of learning or practicing going on.  My son is, thankfully, an enthusiastic reader.

I like to think it’s because my husband and I read Goodnight Moon to him each night as soon as I found out I was pregnant.  I like to think it’s because my son is growing up knowing books are valuable and special and important.  Ryan receives a book on each birthday, at the start of each school year, and scattered throughout the year for different occasions and holidays.

The hard part for us is tracking his summer reading time.  Ryan is participating in the Barnes and Noble Summer Reading Program which requires him to document eight books he’s read.  No problem.

The summer reading program through the public library is a different matter.  That one requires Ryan to track the number of hours he reads.  And that’s the tricky part for us.  I can easily count the minutes we read at bedtime each night.  (This week, it’s a family-favorite:  Because of Winn-Dixie.) 

But it’s because reading is such an integrated part of our family that it’s all the other moments that are harder to keep track of.  

I came downstairs the other day to find Ryan quietly sitting on the couch, reading CD liner notes.  A few days ago, we browsed in our local book store, picking up random books, reading the back covers and the first few pages of books that caught our interest.  Sunday mornings, Ryan scans the sports page looking for news about his favorite basketball team.  

It all counts as reading.  It’s just hard to count.

In an effort not to drain my brain this summer, we’ll just make an estimate.