It's all in the fine print

Belac 4/10

It's official. After a consult with the building inspector in town, it has been determined that there is a least one illegal room in the awkwardly charming house, maybe two. And if there's really a second, then by implication there's definitely a third. We didn't even discuss the bathroom. If the inspector balks at the shower in the half bath, there might even be a fourth.

Chris, the Owner, is beside herself in shock. She bought the house over 10 years ago and made no alterations to it. Unbeknownst to her, these problems existed before her purchase. In speaking with her this morning, she blamed her title company for doing a bad job. I kept my mouth shut. Of course her title company didn't catch anything, there was nothing to catch. It had all to do with missing Certificates of Occupancy for the garage and attic conversion to living space.

The thing is, someone had to be looking very carefully and making sense of the messy paperwork, dates and numbers. It was her realtor's job to make sure that everything was legal before listing the house. It was her lawyer's job to give the papers a rigorous once over, especially after our inquiry. Instead he brushed us off saying his client never had a problem, therefore there wasn't a problem.

The house was significantly modified at least 5 times. There were 2 property cards filed at different offices with irreconcilable numbers and dates and cryptic notes in chicken scratch. There were at least half a dozen permits issued, one of which was never resolved. Only a couple of C.O.s were granted because some grandfather clause deemed the need for all unnecessary. The problem was easy to miss and we may have missed it ourselves. I was only on top of it because the Owner planned to file a tax grievance and I didn't trust the town's measurements and how her application was being filed. I was studying the paperwork.

Before Belac, I might have been just like Chris. Trusting people to do their job. Trusting the procedures and system in place. If someone told me everything was okay, I would have believed them. But since 5 years ago, I've had a lot of practice reading the fine print of policies, rules and regulations. I was forced to. We weren't covered for a lot of things. We were also in that no man's land, where we made too much money to qualify for certain benefits and breaks, but didn't make enough to just easily pay for everything. And never mind preparing for the future when we were living the rainy day, day-to-day! By necessity, we had to figure out how we could make the most of - and even hang onto - the short end of the stick. 

So is this house going to happen? Honestly, I'm not sure. It depends on what the electrical and building inspections turn up. If the house is not far from being up to code, then it's an easy fix. In the meantime, Chris is scared we're going to walk away. As of yet, we still haven't released the contract and have no official agreement between us. She has since informed us through her lawyer to put anything we need in the contract so it can be executed ASAP. 

Are they kidding? I don't care that 16b requires her to perform or the contract will be null. You're talking about almost half of the house being potentially illegal. I have no idea how this will impact property taxes or if Chris can still meet the June 1 deadline for the grievance filing. (Believe it or not, I think there's enough discrepancy left over to still make a case.) We just can't make any promises until the problems are fixed and the rooms are legal. Someone may come along and want the house more and have the appetite to sign onto all of this. But in our case, peace of mind trumps everything and we're in no hurry. 

I feel bad for Chris. We've become quite friendly in the past few weeks. She thought this was a done deal, but it's anything but done. If I were in her shoes, I might be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. But what can I do? I'm taking measures to prevent my own.

Pillow talk

Belac 4/10

Belac wiped away silent tears at bedtime.

"Mom? If Jake does something I don't, I will be sick."

I knelt at his bedside and stroked his hair.

"Really?"

"Mom. If I am sick, I won't go to school. If Jake does something I don't, I will be sick."

"I don't want you to be sick," I told him, "It's no fun! You'll have to stay in bed all day long. And you'll have a super boring time.  And that also means we can't play at the playground after school with all of your friends!" (Every kid on the playground is a 'friend.')

He was quiet and it was dark. His little blue night light glowed and reflected faintly off his window. His eyes continued to overflow as he used his blanket as a rag.

"Belac?" I waited for him to look at me. "You are doing so good in school and I am so proud of you. You're doing a lot of things by yourself now. Maybe one day you won't need a helper."

Seeing and wanting

Belac 4/10

It's a gorgeous day in Sunny Patch. This morning, the boys ran the first 1/4 mile to school, each trying to be first. I actually had to jog at a brisk pace behind them and wondered how long they'd continue like this.  We crossed the first 2 side streets together. I think as long as Jake was at his side, Belac didn't feel babied. By the time we reached the crossing guard at the main artery, however, Jake was long gone.  Doris held long lines of traffic in each direction. I crossed quickly and called to Belac, "Come on! Hurry up!" Belac stood at the corner and said "I will cross by myself." Oy! Here we go again, there were at least 30 cars waiting. Doris and I exchanged looks. "CROSSING!" yelled Doris. On command, my little soldier swiftly ran across the street.

Woo Hoo!

For the first time in Belac's life, a fierce and stubborn desire to be independent has emerged. It doesn't mean he's ready and it doesn't mean he knows how. But for the first time in almost 5 years of services and school (he's just 7!), he recognizes that it's not really normal to have a de facto adult hovering from behind all of the time. Since January, he has been telling his Aide over and over again, "Go away! I don't need you AT ALL." He so desperately wants to be like the others and do things without anyone's help. Recently, well-intentioned and necessary help has been the source of meltdowns and tantrums. But painful as this emerging awareness is for him that he's different and frustrating as it is for me to deal with his rage over being independent and having whatever anyone else has, this is a huge, huge milestone we have reached.

If we were talking about Jake, here, I'd be telling him just the opposite. "Dare to be different and dare to be great. Don't worry about being like the rest." But for Belac the message is all about mainstreaming. We already know that he has some great strengths, making his great weaknesses a real priority. I have never seen him as aware and in such turmoil over something he wants so badly. I am encouraged by his stubborn and emotional desire to be part of the pack and like the others. That want gives me hope for him. Great hope.

Manly mess

Belac 4/10

At first glance, the property card of 158 Manly Town Highway appears to be a mess. This is surprising given that Chris lived there for 10 years and made no improvements to the house. It raises questions about whether everything was even legal when she moved in, despite the trail of C.O.s from years preceding. On paper, it appears that half of the main floor is a 3 car garage (it's a 1 car) and that the space above is unlivable attic space. The powder room on the first floor actually has a shower. Isn't that - technically speaking - a full bath? At last count, the square footage of the house - as per town records - is off by at least 500 square feet. An open porch, the garage, and a room in the unfinished basement appear to have been counted as livable space. There is at least one open building permit on the house from 1952. Is it possible that the town assessor has not step foot into the house since forever? The 2 car garage is now a family room and the attic space is now 1-1/2 bedrooms.

I suspect we won't go to contract very soon as we iron out these serious discrepancies. It's okay. I don't think this house is going anywhere fast and at this point, I have the strong preference to first close on our house.

Sharing with my parents

Belac 4/10

In recent days, I told a few of my closest friends about this blog.  I guess I've figured out better what I'm doing here and am no longer so gun shy about sharing. Lately, though, it has begun to bother me that I haven't shared this blog with my parents. My parents care deeply about me and my family. Whatever complicated relationship I may have with my mother, I have never doubted her fierce love for me. She gave my sisters and me everything. And she definitely gives her grandchildren the best of her.

When the shit first hit the fan and I was looking at my husband like he was an alien after Belac's  diagnosis, blaming his genes even though it takes two, right? It was actually my mother who came to my rescue and called me everyday from Japan as I sobbed my head off and told her I couldn't do this. She has since been there for me time and time again. It has showed up in the form of a check, to tie us over until we sell our house, in the form of sneakers for my boys, school clothes - nicer than anything I would have bought, spontaneous skype calls just to see Jake's missing teeth, coming to NY at least 3 times a year to help my husband take care of the boys so I can perform in Boston....

Belac asked to see his drawings on the computer, tonight. As we sat together looking at the slides, I became convinced that my parents should see all of this. They would delightfully pour over the details of his drawings and marvel. Seeing his work would make them happy.

A few days ago, I asked Olivia what I sounded like in the blog. Positive? Depressed? Narcissistic? What? I wanted to know. She gave me her observations, some of which surprised me and gave me food for thought. I really had no idea how I appeared and appreciated the feedback. But I realize what I was really asking Olivia, is if I could share this blog with my parents without hurting them in anyway or giving them more reason to worry.

Of course this means I have to go back and omit at least one entry. And maybe some of what I write here will upset them or make them uncomfortable.... You see, Asians don't naturally spill their guts and don't particularly look up to those who do. But I think they would want to know a good amount of what's written here, even if it's not all sunshine and roses. I also think that in reading they might worry less about us and about me. They would at least know that we haven't given up and that we have light moments. They'd know we continue to fight the good fight.

Occupational hazard

Belac 4/10

Walked home from school. Jake ran ahead but waited for me to assist with the very last intersection, the busiest and most confusing one of all. Belac lagged behind and I waited for him. As Belac crossed this intersection, I followed. The wailing and sobbing began immediately.

"I want to cross by myself!"

"Fine, you want to do it again? Let's do it again," I told him, not at all minding that he practice this one.

We looked both ways. He went across to the other side.

"Now look both ways!" I called over to him, "Look behind you! Look over there! Is it okay to cross?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed before running back over.

He stood before me.

"If you are bad to me again, I will hit you," he declared.

Before I had the chance to respond he added, "I hate you."

He looked right into my eyes as we shared a moment of shocked silence.

"That is the meanest thing you could ever say to me," I told him before I turned my back on him and headed to the house.

"Uh, Mom...? MOMMY!" he called, running after me, "I don't hate you. Uh.... I like you. I LIKE YOU, MOMMY!" (I almost laughed out loud at hearing that. Couldn't he just lay it on a little thick and use the word LOVE?)

He followed me into the house and into the kitchen. Deep down I was not very upset and in fact viewed this as being pretty normal, misguided behavior from a little boy dying for his independence. But I now had Belac's complete attention and here was an opportunity.

"Belac, did you ever hear me say I hate you? That is the meanest thing you could say!"

"You won't let me cross the street by myself...."

"Is mommy being mean to you or am I taking care of you?" I asked, almost yelling. "I don't want you to get hit by a car! Am I being mean or am I taking care of you when I help you cross the street?"

"Taking care of me" he replied with tears dribbling down his cheeks. "Don't be mad at me."

Healing the realtor within

Belac 4/10

This afternoon, I gave notice to my landlord about our intention to move. He's a really great guy and I dreaded the call. Before we came along, his house had sat for months.  I know he had hoped that we'd sign on for another year. I reached him by phone and explained our plans. He agreed to extend our lease until end of summer.  

I also let him know that I was happy to make the house available for showings during our last months. He told me that he was going to have his realtor be in touch with me. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him not to use a realtor. After all, I had tried to reach his realtor for 2 months before finally seeing this place. There's craigslist. There's word of mouth. Why pay the month fee if you know how to use the internet? Deduct the fee from rent and give yourself a better chance. Let me just show the house for you, I thought of saying before I bit my tongue.

This morning, I heard from Chris, the owner of the awkwardly charming house. She is concerned about where she's moving next. The rental listings in town are out of her price range and she needs her daughter to be in walking distance of school. Her realtor was not too hopeful. Could I give her my landlord's number? I wrote back with it. I  also suggested that she check on craigslist where there are owner advertised, non-MLS rentals. I could not resist and forwarded her a few in her price range. I was even so bold as to suggest that since her ex-husband already had an address in the Sunny Patch school district, that she consider renting in the section of Sunny Patch that was in easy walking distance of school and town but zoned for the neighboring school district. She'd get more for her money. I forwarded her a very pretty looking, freshly renovated, owner-advertised listing that's just 1 block from where I rent now.

I have a friend who works for Coldwell Banker. "Gimky," she told me awhile back, "you kind of have a knack for the business. Would you ever consider -" 

"NO!!!!"

No offense to anyone, but I generally do not like realtors. Especially NY ones. This just can't be what I'm good for. No way.

O-livia!

Belac 4/10

Why do I love thee?

Because you're hilarious and wickedly smart. Because you are one of the most compassionate people I know. You are Olivia! Despite not seeing you in ages, I am struck by how I don't perform with you. I am me. And for better or worse, I don't hold back. You understand the many strands of my life without my needing to explain much.  And though you continue to have some grand illusion that I can do anything, it matters to me that you felt this way long before marriage and children and autism came along.

Do you know how happy I am that you are now in Westchester? It feels like not a day has passed since a fat rat crossed our path, except now we have little people and husbands in tow.

If everyone had an Olivia in their life, this world would be a better place.

All I really need to know I learned in Mario Bros. Wii

Belac 4/10

In Belac's fantasy world, he is Luigi, his brother is Mario, and his father is Yellow Toad. I am Princess Peach, of course. In the Mario Bros. Wii game, Belac's favorite, every character plays a unique role until he or she has run out of lives, leaving the others to continue. Last night, as Belac was drawing the above scene from yet another of his made-up video games, we had the following conversation.  I say conversation, but I'm not sure he heard anything Jake and I said.

BELAC:  I don't want you to die.

ME:  Me too! I don't want to die.

BELAC:  If you die, you'll come back tomorrow, right?

ME:  Belac, I'm living! I'm not thinking about dying.

BELAC: Does everyone die?

ME, hesitantly: Everyone dies....

JAKE:  Belac! People live in 2 ways: on earth and forever in your memory!

(Did he learn that in Hebrew School? I was impressed. His answer was better than mine!)

BELAC, looking up for the first time: I don't want you to die.

Letting Go

Belac 4/10

I let the appraiser into the old house, this morning. The house looked lovely. Every room basked in the sunshine. Outside, the trees were blooming bright pink and white, the birds were chirping, and everything just looked green and alive.  

After 20 minutes of silent moseying around, the appraiser allowed, "that's quite a tree you have out there." He was referring to the 200 year old white oak in the backyard.

I stepped outside to have a good look with him. I hadn't really paid attention to that tree in a long time. I looked steeply upwards and was stunned by the tree's majesty and spectacular spread, as if seeing it for the first time.

As I sat in the car before driving off, I reached my husband by phone.

"I'm sad," I told him as I looked over at our sweet, yellow home. "That tree...."

"We'll be happy where we're going," my husband reassured me.

"But is that house sunny? I forgot how bright and sunny this house is. I don't really remember the next house being sunny...." I worried aloud.

"The house is plenty sunny," my husband again reassured. "Gimky, we're fine. We're going to be fine."

1-5-8

Belac 4/10

Our first home, the house with the hill, was assigned the number 34. Those numbers always rang in my head as a question. E-F?

142 was the charming, sunny 6th floor walkup in Manhattan where I lived during my Juilliard years and beyond.  C-F-D.... it's the motif of a beautiful lullaby I am attached to.

4173 was my childhood house. Makes sense.

Where we live now is 430. I hear it as an ending to a sentence, but a seemingly so-so and off-kilter one.  F-E-and then rest on the strong beat.

I pass a house everyday on my way to school. It's 5-3-1. Now that is a beautiful, shiny address! It's the Star Spangled Banner! A C-Major triad rings through my head each time I pass this house.  G-E-C....What a happy journey home to the tonic.

Whenever out and about, I notice house numbers and melodies pop into my head. It's like a game. What piece with those scale degrees fit that house? Natalie's house is 2-2-3, which reminds me of the melancholic e minor Intermezzo by Brahms. Though to be completely accurate, her address would really have to be 5-5-6.

We are about to sign a contract to buy the charmingly awkward house. Want to know what the address is? The geeky musician in me is quite pleased.  It's 1-5-8.

You know why I like 158? It includes the most stable and perfect intervals of a scale: the 4th, 5th and octave. They are the pillars of both major and minor tonalities. Sounded out, 1-5-8 is also the opening 3 notes of "Dawn" in Strauss' Also Sprach Zarathustra, which you might remember from the movie I never saw, 2001: A Space Odyssey. 1-5-8 proclaims "In the beginning...." Without the finicky 3rd  yet in the mix, you don't know where you're going and there are just so many possibilities!  C - G - C....

What is also hilarious is the entire address, which I obviously cannot share with you. But it goes something in the spirit like this:

158 Manly Town Highway

Sunny Patch, NY

So with cautious hope and 1-5-8 ringing in my ear, off we go to sign.

Thankful Tuesday

Belac 4/10

Every Tuesday morning, 45 minutes before school begins, I bring Belac to a small group reading session. As you might guess, Belac is fairly advanced at decoding but very behind in comprehension and inferring. He doesn't always know what he's reading. Twice a week, Belac meets a reading specialist to practice answering What, Where, When, and Why questions about a text. They work on reading fluency. They focus on the retelling of a story in sequence: First, Next, Then, and Last. This morning, a couple of teachers waited at the monitor's desk to speak to me.

"Gimky, we want to run something by you. As an experiment before Belac's IEP meeting, we want to try something new."

They want to take Belac out of Direct Instruction, a self-contained special ed class he receives 2 hours a week. They want to replace it with more Reading and Social Skills with the school psychologist. It was explained to me that Belac received a fair amount of social skills in D.I., but they felt he was ready for social skills with more typical role models. 

"Of course! Let's give it a try!" I said without hesitation.

As I figuratively skipped home, I sent out a thanks to the universe. Of course I'm glad that Belac seems to be making progress, but this was not exactly the nature of my thanks today. Today, I am thankful for Belac's Sunny Patch teachers. They could have easily waited until Belac's IEP meeting in May to suggest these changes, untested, for the following year. They could have waited until the last weeks of school to try something new, limiting disruption to the other childrens' routine. They could have even gotten away without replacing the D.I., citing Belac's progress and more time in the typical classroom, not to mention school budget cuts. But here these teachers were, wanting to try a couple of new things before our IEP meeting and knowing where they could find me at 7:45 this morning. I am so thankful.

Splinter skills

Belac 4/10

Last night, my husband headed to Boston for work. A few hours later, Jake called to me from bed.  "Mom...? I have a splinter and it's bothering me."

We examined it under bright light. What looked like the butt of a toothpick was tucked neatly into the delicate underside of his wrist. "Why didn't you tell me before?" (Like before dad left the house, I didn't say.)

"It didn't bother me then," he told me through tears.

I went to get some alcohol and equipment. You know that I come from a long line of medical doctors and health care professionals, right? I am a pianist and have strong and steady enough fingers. Doing this should come naturally to me, right? After all, it's in the Snowflake blood....

I took a deep breath and carefully poked and pulled. Jake cried. Belac came out of bed and was laughing and jumping up and down, his usual inappropriate behavior when someone was upset. "This is not funny, Belac. Your brother is hurting. Get into bed now or I will shut the door to your room!!" I told him sternly.

For the next 5 minutes, Jake whimpered and cried. I wasn't sure I could do this. "Should we wait til tomorrow, Jake? Maybe the nurse at school can help us."

"No, Mom. Take it out. Take it out NOW!"

After what seemed like forever, I managed to pull the thing out as Jake let out one last wail. I was sweating buckets and my head was spinning. I then had to put my head between my legs.  Jake was still weepy but recovering. "What are you doing, Mom?" he asked as he saw me move to the floor. "I'm just relaxing," I said with a laugh, "This kind of stuff makes me nervous!"

When I gathered my wits to me a few minutes later, I realized Belac was crying in bed. I was utterly amazed and happy to hear him calling out "Please don't hurt my brother, Mama. Please don't hurt my brother!"

"Everything is OKAY, Belac!" an exasperated Jake told him. "I'm fine and you can stop now."

Walking

Belac 4/10

Walking to school has become a bit of a nightmare.

Both boys have decided they want to walk by themselves. Jake runs ahead, leaving me to trust that he'll make the half-mile trek in one piece. Belac can't keep up but tries, all the while yelling ahead at his brother "no fair!" and turning back and yelling at me to stay away.

Today, Belac crossed a side street after dutifully looking both ways. When he saw me step into the road before he arrived to the other side, he freaked out. "I can walk to school by myself!! GO AWAY! STAY! THERE!"

The next street was busy. It wasn't enough to just look both ways, there were cars turning left and right into the side street. I lunged forward and grabbed him. I made him look at all the cars around him. By the time we crossed together, he was sobbing uncontrollably and planted both legs on the corner. "I am in 2nd grade now! [He's in 1st.] I.CAN.WALK.BY.MYSELF!!" he screamed in rage. With one swift heave, he wrestled himself away from my grasp and ran ahead.

I sighed heavily and rolled my eyes. What a circus act! This was no fun at all. Again, I assumed my position about 5 steps behind, close enough to protect but far away enough to give space. Frustrating as this was, though, I had to admit that deep down I was smiling. I was impressed by his fierce need to be independent and like the others.  He's been telling his Aide, "I don't need a helper" and "I can do it by myself, go away!"  Though his temper and emotions remain something to be reckoned with, I recognize that his spirit and stubbornness are his most valuable assets. It's exactly that fierce desire that stands a chance against his biggest challenges.

So for now, I both love and dread the walk to school. There are moving vehicles and impatient drivers alongside my seemingly fearless child who begs for his freedom. ARGH!

Just mom

Belac 4/10

I am not an "Autism Mom." Maybe this catch title offers moms a sense of purpose. Maybe it's about acceptance. But you will never catch me describing myself as Autism Mom. I am trying to be a good mom to both my kids, one of whom is not autistic. I'm trying to be a good wife, a good citizen, and good at a lot of other things that have little to do with autism....  In many respects, you could probably say - at this stage of the game - I'm trying to reclaim myself, whoever she is.

On Friday night, Belac went to a birthday party and was one among 16 first grade kids. We were in a sparsely-furnished parish of a church, where basketball hoops were set up for races and games. Most every child was dropped off to be later picked up.  I had Jake with me and we both brought something to read. "I'll stay in case Belac needs me," I let the mom know, "but you should feel free to put me to work if you need any help!"

Pretty soon, it became clear that Belac needed me. Left on his own, Belac was lost in the chaos and noise. He ran around aimlessly at times and needed instructions repeated to him. I followed close behind him. At one point, when he managed to score a basket for the team, the kids were in complete shock and screamed, "You Did It, Belac!" while jumping up and down. But for the most part, I could see the boys simply tolerated Belac. They did not have much confidence in his ability to be a team player, and rightfully so.

As usual, I integrated myself as best I could into the setting. I was the cool mom who high-fived some of the kids during the relays and cheered the team on.  Even if Belac couldn't recognize the other boys' athletic prowess, his mother did.  I chitchatted with some of the parents about school and real estate in between running after Belac. Even if her son was all over the place, his mom was on top of it and seemed unflappable.  And so there I was, whether I wanted to or not, playing out my own version of the Aforementioned Mom.

And what does this mean, you ask? To me, it means that I can't be a 300 lb. woman with a nose ring. It means that I have to be with it and behave and look in ways that appeal. It means that I have to try hard to make it look like I'm not trying very hard. I root for the other kids over things my own son has a lot of difficulties achieving. I hold Belac accountable for his behavior and prompt, reprimand, and praise as necessary and as unceremoniously as possible in public. I strive to make people feel comfortable with us and about themselves. I look for fun ways Belac can engage with those around him. It sounds like absolute martyrdom, doesn't it? It's a fine line we walk because pity ruins everything. The goal is for kids and their parents to be less afraid of coming over or including Belac in their activities if they have the slightest inkling to. And if parents look at me and think "I could have been her, he could have been mine," I will have succeeded.

Tables turned

Belac 4/10

I arrived early to pickup, today, and chatted with another parent. Together, we've been working on some projects in Jake's class and we've become friendly in recent weeks.

"Do you think that Zack has tibets?" she asked, out of the blue.

I didn't see this topic coming and was caught off guard completely.

"I think you mean Tourette's Syndrome," I offered hesitantly, "I don't know, maybe...."

"Well, what do you think he has?" she pressed on.

I really didn't know how to answer this question. Was she asking about what I might have heard? Was this just another gossipy conversation among moms?  Or did she know something about Belac and just thought I might know?

"Well, between you and me," I stammered to find the right words and tone, "I think he might have some form of autism." Was it okay to say that?

"Really?" She was surprised. "The kids I know with autism are so quiet."

"Well, I don't know what he has..." of course I knew, but I didn't know how to have this conversation. Is this the kind of conversation parents have over Belac?  "I don't know," I continued, "but he seems to have difficulties connecting with others and focusing in on his immediate surroundings. This makes me think he might have autism."

Belac's classmate walked home with us, today. This same mom walked right behind us for a few blocks. I looked at Belac and scrutinized his every action. If the subject were Belac, what would the conversation have sounded like?

Oh what a beautiful morning....

Belac 4/10

What a sweet production of Charlotte's Web this morning. From behind the curtain, I could see Belac and my husband sitting in the front row. The theater was filled. Jake narrated and remembered to speak slowly. Zack followed along with his aide close behind him, kudos to him for holding it together. Some of the kids really hammed it up and drew big laughs from the audience. 

At the end of the show, we surprised Jake's pregnant teacher with a colorful clothesline filled with the children's artwork, baby booties, and other knick knacks. Everyone cheered and clapped as his teacher unsuccessfully held back tears.

My husband and Belac could not stay for the cast party that followed. As I hugged them goodbye, I noticed the Sunny Patch Principal standing near us, wiping her eyes. She leaned down and caught Belac's eye. "Want to ride with me in the elevator?" And with that, she and Belac were off, hand-in-hand.

My boy!

Belac 4/10

Since going to contract on the house-with-the-hill, weeks ago, I've gotten myself good and tied up with a bunch of activities for Jake's class. It's been fun, actually, to organize the various parties, paint and make props, help with and coordinate the kids' artwork for the secret teacher gift, work as a stagehand... This week, I've spent 2-3 hours at school, each day. During yesterday's rehearsal, Jake passed me on stage and hugged me without warning. It took me a split second to realize that he hadn't just bumped into me. His arms wrapped around me as he buried his head in my stomach. This from a kid who doesn't want anyone to see me kiss or hug him anymore. I hugged him tightly back without a word.

What did I ever do to deserve such a sweet boy? I'm glad my time at school, lately, has been all about him.  Does he know how he means the world to me? Thank God I'm not showing the house anymore or I couldn't have had these past weeks to the same degree. What a relief! What an amazing gift.

Home hopes

Belac 4/10

I've been told by school that Belac has had some particularly good days. Yesterday, when we emerged from the windowless karate facility, Belac told me: "I am so happy it's daytime." The comment made me smile. No one loves the longer days of sunshine more than Belac. It means outdoor recess and outdoor gym, extra running around after school and more time on the playground. Physical activity makes a huge difference in his life and over the years, we have become a very physically active family from spring to fall. We're now moving into those glorious months.

If we manage to get ourselves to Chris' house, the first thing I will do is install a fence for the little side yard and motion-detecting outdoor lights. Everything else can wait. We had these things in place at our old house and it allowed my kids to regularly play outside well past dark. My boys ran around with my husband and pup back there, happy and alive. We ate outside almost everyday in the summer, lighting a citronella candle as the sun went down. By dark, my husband - still in his dress shirt - always kicked around a ball 'one last time' and chased our boys. There was always someone on the swing or a kid in a tree, some happy distraction that made bedtime so undesirable. A few weeks ago, Jake told our old neighbor in a visit to our old house, "I love this yard. I really miss it." I know another yard won't exactly be the same, but a home connection to outside again would be quite an amazing and emotional thing for my family. I see great potential in the little yard and driveway of the awkwardly charming house....

So Chris and I have been ironing out the details of passing the torch. Last night we agreed. Let's try to get to contract by early next week and close by August 31. Fingers crossed.

Urge to be obnoxious

Belac 4/10

Got home to find the homeopathic center again occupying parking spaces that don't belong to them. In other words, mine. There is currently a large wooden prop sitting in my husband's space. I began painting it this morning for a show Jake has on Friday. I guess to be nice, I could drag that horribly heavy thing somewhere else so I could get my car in there. But no. I didn't feel like being nice at the moment. My husband and I and the other tenant have already nicely addressed the parking many times with this center. No. Today, I felt like being obnoxious.  I proceeded to leave my car in such a way that every car could somehow get out, but not without A LOT of effort. Dare I leave for a couple of hours with no way to be reached??

I called my little sis. "Would that be really mean of me?"

"Gimky, just go over there and talk to them. Don't force this situation to become worse."

"Alright," I said with a sigh. 

I knocked on the door. Again, I spoke with the female of the couple who was - as usual - very defensive with me but very childlike in demeanor. Act like someone in charge! I wanted to tell her. Just speak up and nicely tell your clients that they can't park back there!

10 minutes later, her husband and a middle-aged client appeared. I introduced myself to the husband, who appeared no older than 25 years old despite his goatee.  I thanked both of them for moving their cars and tried to keep it friendly and light. To the client, I pointed out the 3 hour parking on the street and the municipal lot across the street, just a quarter for an hour! "I know it's not as convenient as this lot," I said to the husband, "but it's still pretty convenient and our own visitors don't seem to mind." The husband agreed and again apologized.

They saw how nicely I spoke to their client despite telling him what to do. The client didn't seem to mind at all. That's all they have to do themselves. So maybe the parking situation will now improve. At the very least, it has a better chance now that I didn't block everyone in and vanish for a few hours.

My big little sister

little sis - middle sis - big sis, 1975

The inspection of the charmingly awkward house, yesterday, turned up no surprises. The roof needs to be replaced in the first couple of years, which was good news to us. We thought it needed to happen right away. An extra year makes a big difference. As it is, my sister and parents are floating us half of escrow until we have access to the proceeds of our own sale on May 1. We want to go to contract quickly in order to get the lowest interest rate on a mortgage. More importantly,  we don't want another buyer coming along and offering the Owner something better.

It's a humbling feeling to know that my family is helping to make this purchase happen. This loan is not a drop in the bucket for them and yet they opened their purse strings without hesitation. When I mentioned to my sister that I was going to ask my parents for a loan, her response was "I can float you, too. What do you need?" I was pretty taken aback, astounded actually. She's my little sister, after all, one who is not prone to the rosy view of anything, skeptical about anything going as planned, and known for giving everything and everyone the nth degree. As we were on the phone, she wrote me a check. "This is the money we saved for J's truck. We don't need it back until the beginning of September." I am humbled by her trust in me.

Wake up! It's tax time.

Belac 1/10

It's that time of year.

As usual, we spent a few days with Turbo Tax. But this year, the chore of filing was accompanied by  the astonishingly stark realization that we should have been paying attention to the tax laws. We had incredible expenses in 2009.  Maybe you can imagine our utter dismay to find that not only were we not getting a return as in previous years, but we actually owe money to the federal government! How in the world did this happen?

Had I known that I could describe myself as an active participant in the income loss of renting and selling our house-with-the-hill, I would have simply kept track of everything I was already doing. I would have kept every card, every email, every phone call. I would have kept a meticulous log of every visit and every ad. I would have logged every hour that I spent cleaning that house, I was the cleaning lady, too.  I would have logged every single minute I spent driving to and from that house, every minute I spent at Home Depot or Bed Bath and Beyond buying stuff for that house, choosing and planting flowers, painting and painting, shoveling, taking photos.... 

Could I have logged 750 hours trying to sell that house (in the calendar year)? I'm not exactly sure, but had I known that something in the ballpark of $8000 was at stake, I would have tried my damnedest.  At this point, I have no real way of knowing how close I came or if I could have even done it. Every scrap has been thrown out  now that our house is in contract. And why does it have to be a calendar year anyway? This law was meant to help people just like us, but since when do things fall - especially in this economy and market - neatly into a calendar year? Really grasping at straws here... do you think the federal government would accept this blog as evidence of my many-more-than-750-hours of blood, sweat and tears?

 

Now we have lingering questions about deducting our entire mortgage interest on our return, as the house-on-the-hill was not our primary residence for the entire year.  Unfortunately, we may have to file an amendment later today.

My husband is understandably upset and spent most of last night reading about wealth management. He came to bed at 5am to tell me about some of the things we should have done. "Gimky, this is a wake up call. In 2009 we got the worst of both worlds."

"Look," I told my husband, "it's part of cutting our losses over that house."

"Fine. You may be right and we may find out that there was nothing more we could have done anyway. But Gimky, this is not about the house, anymore. What I am talking about is a drastic change of mindset for us. Unless we actively find ways to protect our money, it will all go to the federal government by default. I'm not talking about doing anything deceitful, but it was irresponsible of us to not have known the tax implications of our actions and to find out only on the day of our tax filing that we could have done much more to protect ourselves."

Note to self. Find ourselves a financial advisor. It's also time to write up the will we never got around to taking care of and opening up a special needs trust fund.

Table Talking

Belac 4/10

Me: Jake, did Zack have a particularly bad day, today?

Jake: No.

Me: Really...? Today is how he usually is?

Jake: Yes.

Me: And is he sitting in your group now?

Jake: Yes.

[Silence]

Me: When he screams, does it upset you?

Jake: No, but it's annoying.

Husband: He... screams?

Jake: Yes, all of the time. Dad, I think there is a special needs kid in every class. You know what?? There's a girl in Mrs. Brown's class and she's really good at flipping her eyes!

Me: Flipping her eyes?

Jake: Yes! Flipping her eyes!

Husband: What do you mean?

Jake: You know. Her eyes go back and you don't see her eyeballs anymore. You just see white.

My husband and I looked at each other and I found myself suppressing a laugh at his imitation.

Husband: Does she do it on purpose or does it kind of just happen normally?

Jake: (Pause and with a kind of perplexed look on his face) I don't really know....  She is REALLY smart.

Me: How do you know?

Jake: One time at lunch, someone came around with a microphone and this book of fun facts and she could answer everything. Like one time, he asked the lunchroom "What month is Mother's Day?" and no one knew and she said right away (mimicking her) "In May." She knew everything he asked!

People come in so many different packages.

Sunny Patch Principal

Belac 4/10

This morning, as I walked the long length of the school property towards the front door, I noticed the principal and a teacher bent over an opened car door. School had already begun and this looked unusual. As I neared, I realized these adults were encouraging a child to come with them. The child was crying and had hands covering ears. The trio walked 5 steps before me, the principal looked at me and waved without a word. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the mom get in her car and drive away. I think she was still in her pajamas. Obviously, this had been a rough morning for her and her boy.

Later, after Jake's publishing party had begun and all the kids were paired up with a parent or two (and Zack was long gone), the principal showed up. There was just one child without a parent and she unceremoniously took a seat next to him. She picked up his book and put her arm around him. When the child's mom eventually arrived, she stood in the background and then slipped away after a few minutes.

This is also a woman who sat in on Belac's IEP meeting for an impressive 10 minutes. In emphasizing the school's responsibility in supporting a diverse student body, she disarmingly alluded to her own dyslexia and struggles as a student.

I wish I could recognize this principal by name without blowing my cover. I see her everywhere and all of the time. She's approachable and positive, a doer, a problem solver, a listener. She seems to meet everything head on with neither fuss nor drama. Nothing seems to phase her. She holds herself accountable. Every time I see her, it's written all over her face: kindness. Seriously. What a role model! What an amazing and inspiring human being. 

Party prep

Jake 4/10

Organized a publishing party for Jake's 3rd grade class and parents, which happened this morning. Arrived early to set up. Zack, the autistic child in Jake's class, was having a very difficult time. He was crying out loudly and often, and then got into a physical encounter with his Aide. The whimpering was on a scale I had never heard before and seemed to come from a place deep within him. It sounded like this boy was truly hurting, as if being tortured. The outbursts were disturbing and impossible to ignore. The class was completely quiet and the teacher continued on as best she could.

My co-helper was late and the perky, new assistant teacher kept asking if she could help me. I was in the background arranging fruit and bagels. There wasn't much to do and I was fine. Shouldn't she be with the kids? Assuring them or simply being there for them? After the physical tussle, I suggested casually to the hovering assistant teacher, that maybe Zack could go to the OT room to jump on a trampoline to blow off some steam, get himself 'regulated.'  The assistant teacher, with her huge smile that couldn't possibly be real given the circumstances, actually rolled her eyes and said "he's leaving." Did she think she was reassuring me with that comment? What was this? Out of sight, out of mind? "I know," I said and then repeated, "but maybe going to the OT room would help him."

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell this assistant teacher who she was dealing with. How dare she roll her eyes at me - or to anyone else - over this child (or any child)! This child was now just 2 weeks into being her student, like all the others, and I expected her to care about him beyond his simply leaving at everyone's convenience and relief. Her reaction was consistent with someone who had no hope for this kid and just couldn't be bothered to lift a finger.

After Zack left, my co-helper tried to hide her tears and mumbled to me, "I never witnessed anything like that and hope he's okay." I was surprised to find myself wiping away tears, too.

Basking in okayness

Belac 4/10

For the past 2 weeks, I've been talking with Chris, the owner of the awkwardly charming house. We've  danced casually around the subject of our offer to purchase her house. We especially pondered the details of the sale of my own house-with-the-hill, a contingency that caused her major hesitation.

Yesterday, Chris called to say that she would fully accept our offer with the sale contingency. Today, I scheduled an inspection for the weekend.  "Sounds wonderful," my lawyer uncharacteristically allowed herself to say.

Look. Anything could go wrong with this tentative plan. So many things need to happen, most importantly the closing of our house-with-the-hill. But I must admit. It makes me a little emotional to think that after 2 especially crazy years, that we're doing okay and life goes on. There were days during that time when I was anything but sure. I certainly could not imagine being okay 4-1/2 years ago. But here we are, lucky to have arrived in one piece and somehow hopeful. My boys are going to school in Sunny Patch, where the teachers seem to really care and make effort. I watched Jake bump into a classmate on the way to school, this morning, paired up and chatting all the way to the school door. And now there might be a house, though only possible because of someone else's misfortune. I won't get ahead myself here and it would be in poor taste anyway. Whatever happens, though, it was nice to have this taste of okayness, a reminder that not everything is a losing battle.

Tomorrow morning I face the judge over my ridiculously expensive ticket in both points and dollars. I have no idea what I will say to anyone, I am a terrible liar.  Stay tuned....

Rules

Belac 4/10

BELAC:  I don't want Jake to have any friends!

US:  That's not nice.

BELAC: Jake always takes my friends!

US: Friends are for sharing. Jake is allowed to talk to your friends. And you know what? You can learn from Jake how to make friends.

(Silence.)

BELAC: I know how to make friends!

US: What do you need to do?

BELAC: I have to talk.

US: That's right! That's good!

BELAC: If someone does something I don't want, I say let's do it for FIVE MINUTES and do something else.

(How I wish that could all be enough.)

As for the last couple of statements, my husband and I looked at each other in surprised silence. He's been listening.