The sun has arrived in southwest Michigan.  I never thought I would see it's beautiful rays ever again after a brutal winter.  Brutal is not only a reference to the cold and bitterness, but also to the offsprings' behavior.  For 5 straight months, we have been starved of the natural sensory input that is crucial to Fischer's behavior and development.  (It has absolutely nothing to do with my sanity and increased olive juice and prescription budget.)

The wear and tear that winter brings on the lawn is rather annoying.  Say goodbye to the necessary depletion of disposable income on flowers, soil, plants, rocks, mulch, potting soil, and whatever else might be necessary for a non-white-trashy yard.  While my neighbor across the way utilizes ratty blankets and stained towels for curtains, and Schwan's ice-cream buckets for planters, I prefer to go the more traditional route with my outside decor. 

Preparing the summer yard is heavy-work heaven for a sensory-smart mamma.  I completely forgot how great yard work is for Fischer.  His nervous system settles down and he starts to process input more calmly and appropriately after one outing in the yard.  The anxiety and need to wrestle decreases dramatically.  And we have so much fun planting and getting dirty (I the former, Fischer the latter).

I am fairly certain that my neighbors believe I punish my child with manual labor, but he loves to carry bricks and heavy rocks.  He loves constructing flower beds with his dad.  He loves carrying potting soil and dirt for me.   He has a Fischer-size wheelbarrow that he loads up with garden tools. 

And let's not forget it's fire-pit season.  Fischer loves him a good fire.  Carrying firewood is an excellent activity for him.  He's a bit of a pyro, but what man isn't?  And as long as Kevin is standing next to him, he is allowed to poke the fire.  With his dad guiding him, he learns the appropriate force necessary to stoke the fire.  This particular skill spills over into everyday tasks, like handling delicate objects, giving gentle hugs, and grabbing objects with appropriate force.

This may sound bizarre, but I'd like to give a bit of a shout-out to all of the invertebrates in my yard that take one hell of a good beating from my kid.  I feel quite terribly actually for the worms in my yard, but they will never know how grateful I am for their service.  Fischer knows that worms make good fishing bait, and he was taught that worms hide under wet objects.  In my yard, they take cover under heavy rocks, which is awesome.  Fischer will push over every single rock in my yard in search of worms.  And some of these rocks are more like boulders.  Fischer thinks that the trap door of his Scooby-Doo pirate castle is the most suitable place to store his worms, but it's another semi-heavy object for him to tote around so I don't put up a stink. 

The proprio-pros to summer go on and on for sensory activities:  bike riding, scooter racing, walking to/from the library with books, [Fischer] taking out the trash, watering flowers, baseball, and never forget the power of the playground.  I've figured out what stimulates Fischer and have based many simple, readily-available activities around that.  Never thought I'd be so thankful for worms, dirt, and fire!

I was sick for a week, then Fischer was sick for a week.  Flu and SPD do not go well together.  I couldn't do any heavy work or proprioceptive activity with Fish for a week because my ass was too busy making indents in the couch.  Even when I wasn't beached up, exhausting options on the DVR, I couldn't do heavy work.  Then he got sick and wasn't able to do any heavy work himself for a week.  2 weeks minus heavy work combined with lack of routine means an additional 2 weeks of out-of-sync, domestic woe.

We've been trying to find ways to get Fischer physical exercise and the heavy work he needs to get back on track, but it's rough when it's cold.  His reaction time to activity is delayed; he may do the heavy work every day this week, but won't start regulating until next week.  Yesterday morning, we did some wheelbarrow walks before heading to the kids museum where we climbed enough stairs to flare up my rheumatoid arthritis.  (I was completely devastated that I had to consume Tylenol PMs last night.)  Then we did some swinging, sandbox, and rode on the 4-wheeler, in the rain. 

Today, I'll have to play Pengu; a hodge-podge of tent building, pillow throwing, and hide-and-seeking where I typically play the shit character.  I'm always the slow, unattractive, underdog.  I never get to be Captain Hook- I'm either Mr. Smee or a puny pirate.  Occasionally, I get to be the poop monster...at least he mixes it up.  If being the poop monster means he'll get underwear and pants on, I'm in. 

Tonight is gymnastics.  Lately, he's been campaigning against gymnastics.  Novelty has worn off, and the structure of the class infringes on his sensory seeking.  He was actually elated last week that he had diarrhea and could not attend class.  He tried to tell me this morning that he had diarrhea down the crack of the couch.  He's made it abundantly clear that he will not participate unless he gets a Wendy's hamburger before class.  Once the boss was finished outlining the rules, he agreed.  He just told me that he plans to let his teachers know that he had diarrhea last week, which is why he could not attend class.  I tried explaining to him that it is more appropriate to simply let them know that he was sick, but he believes in full disclosure.  I just hope he doesn't feel the need to demonstrate where diarrhea originates.  Last week, he spread his cheeks and asked me to look for his diary.  He dropped his pants at my parents house and showed them his rash.  I think he understands the difference between public and private appropriateness in this matter, but I'm not quite sure.  Either way, I'm pretty positive the word diarrhea is the word of the day.