No Pictures Please!!!

     Last week Oliver, Ginger and I headed back to the lake house.  We weren't ten minutes away from our home when I realized I forgot the camera.  I had made detailed lists outlining our meals for each of the four days we would be gone including which groceries we would need.  I remembered bathing suits, clothes, even the Quiet Bag we needed to bring to church on Sunday.  Yet, I forgot the camera.  I contemplated turning around, but I didn't want to lose the momentum and enthusiasm we were already experiencing.  We had the book on CD playing, the mountains of stuffed animals and blankets filling the backseat, full Disney  and Scooby Doo lunchboxes by our sides, and we had already sang two triumphant verses of "On the Road Again" at the top of our lungs.  I decided to press on and do without.
     Most everybody these days would have been fine without a camera on a mini vacation because their fancy phones take pictures.  However, my phone isn't fancy.  It is barely even a phone.  Technically, it does take pictures.  Teeny, tiny ones with no way to zoom in.  I do occasionally use the camera feature but I have no idea how to get the photos off the camera onto Facebook or into print.  So it was time to face the music.  This would be a camera-less trip.

No Pictures Please!!!

     Schroon Lake is absolutely beautiful.  It is a gorgeous clear lake surrounded by pine trees.  The sun was shining, my children were being adorable and I couldn't take a single picture of any of it.  Like many other women, I have a love-hate relationship with cameras.  I love taking and having pictures of my kids.  I hate having my picture taken.  I always feel insecure and worry that I will look too fat, too old, too something.  I have been trying to overcome this mindset so my family will look back through the years and remember that I did, in fact, exist.  One major lifestyle change at a time please.  For now I am working hard at just going outside.
     Just like our last trip to the lake house, we spent most of each day at the beach.  I am still working on wanting to be outside, but I am at least better at going outside.  I may even be starting to understand why someone would choose to go out when they could stay in.  Maybe.  I think I get it as far as kids go anyway.  When you are outside you don't have to watch your volume and you can frolic and things don't get broken as easily.  You make friends with kids you don't know and you explore and you find treasures you didn't know you couldn't live without like the world's most microscopic snail shell.
     So for four days I sat in the sun watching my kids smile and splash and have the time of their lives.  I never told them it was time to go home.  I just waited until they wore themselves out.  I had my feet buried in the sand, I judged sandcastle building contests, I complained about the heat (not a lot!), and I didn't take a single picture of any of it.  So instead of capturing memories we were busy making them.

Through Leo's Eyes

     We have a son with special needs.  Leo is intellectually disabled amongst a variety of other disorders.  He is also compassionate, affectionate, polite, obsessed with sneakers and High School Musical and tries hard at everything he does.  Unfortunately, his disabilities makes him a challenge a good deal of the time.  As a couple, my husband and I tend to divide the kids up so that one parent has Leo and the other parent has Oliver and Ginger.  That way the rest of the kids get some attention.  Most of the time Dennis has Leo.
     The other day I had Leo all to myself and I tried to really savor it instead of just trying to make it work.  I had kids at work, school and camps so Leo and I were left to adventure on our own.  We had just dropped off Ginger at a library class.  My original plan was to stay at the library in air conditioned book reading bliss, but Leo said, "I can't just stay inside all day!".  Although staying inside all day is my favorite thing to do, "New Outside Adventuring Blogger Diana" knew I had to seize this chance.  So we went for a walk through town.
     Since I decided to take on the challenge of going outdoors once a week and blogging about it, I have tried to focus on what I see, hear and feel when I am outside.  At first that is what I did.  I was fixated on the noises of a town full of traffic and of course, I was thinking about how painfully warm it was.  Quickly though I began to focus on Leo and how he was experiencing things.  He was terrified.  We don't usually walk around in places with so much noise or traffic.  He held onto my hand like it was his lifeline.  As we approached an intersection I thought he would enjoy pushing the button to make the light tell us when to walk.  He liked pushing the button but was frozen at the prospect of crossing the street.  To make it worse, the light never changed and we had to walk when it said not to.  Being Leo means being trapped in a brain that doesn't work like other eleven year olds.  It means being confused a lot of the time and that means being vulnerable.  My heart was breaking for this child I love so much and am so often frustrated with.  I held his hand tighter and we crossed the street.

Leo

     He never let go as we went to the post office and mailed a letter to his sister in college.  We headed back towards the library and I spontaneously pulled him into a toy store for a peek.  The store was a darling, quaint little place with toys in the back and a candy shop up front.  He never asked for anything and just delighted in looking around.  He asked what certain toys were for.  Again my heart was breaking.  Leo doesn't really have an imagination.  He doesn't play with toys.  He does sports and he does them well because they have rules and expectations.  Toys don't work in his world.  We walked into the candy section and there I found my idea of Heaven.  They had candy form Great Britain!  It was like a flashback to my childhood visits to my family in England and Wales.  I had to have it.  I selected a few of my favorites like Penguin bars and Refreshers.  By then the shop owner had begun a chat with Leo and was showing him the playroom where she hosts play groups and classes.  He said that he wanted to go there and I had to explain it was for younger kids.  He offered to come and help her run the classes and take care of the kids for her.  I understood then that Leo is not really aware of his limitations.  He truly believes he would be an asset to her business.  My heart tore a little more.  She told Leo that she was offering a creative writing class to kids his age and he got very excited and asked if I could bring him there.  He kept telling her that he had very good handwriting.  I knew he couldn't participate in a class like that, so I told him we would have to discuss it.  Again, my heart was aching.
     As we were leaving to go back to the library, his hand found mine again.  I asked him what my favorite thing to do was.  He answered, "Hold my hand".  He was right.  I think he was relieved when we navigated the crosswalks and arrived safely back where we had started.  At the library a toddler was playing in the children's area and Leo was eager to talk with him.  The boy couldn't say any real words yet and that suited Leo just fine.  Leo acted like he understood everything he said and found a ball to entertain him with.  This went on for quite some time while the boy's mother and I chatted.  When Ginger's class was over and it was time to go, I told Leo that we were going to head home.  He looked at me and said, "I can't leave.  The baby needs me."
     Although I didn't really experience the Great Outdoors on this adventure, I did really learn things.  My Leo sees the world as a very different place than most of us. He is vulnerable and trusting and everything is big and important.  When I took the time to see things through his eyes my heart broke, but holding his hand helped put it back together.