Anna

The last time I saw Anna, she visited me at our new - at the time - house with the hill. It just so happened, that her visit coincided with Belac's official diagnosis of autism. I was probably terrible company and cried the entire time. She was pregnant with her first child then and brought sweet looking pastries in the shape of various animals. They sat for days, untouched, before getting stale and old. I still remember how the yellow duckies landed upright on the top of our trash. 

Anna was always so good about calling me after that visit, even when I never called back. I always apologized and felt so bad about not keeping in better touch, but I just didn't have the energy to be held accountable to her or anyone extra. Those years, it took everything for me to just keep my head above water. To call someone back? Are you kidding? I was in crisis mode. I was trying to save my child from autism. I was trying not to drown in sorrow and despair.

Fast forward to yesterday, 5 years later. Anna and I are now preparing to play a recital, together, like old times. She came by the house to rehearse. We hadn't seen each other in 5 years! She now has 2 children and I am in Sunny Patch.  I ran out to the driveway to give her a huge hug, both of us jumping up and down, squealing like we hadn't seen each other in a lifetime. (Well, it was kind of a lifetime.) She finally stepped back to take a good look at me and all around her, this quiet spot off of a busy street, and literally burst into tears. 

"ANNA! Don't cry!! We're doing fine. Actually, we're doing great ---" I told her, laughing and hugging her.

"I know, Gimky! I can tell and I know. I am so happy for you!!" and she hugged me for the longest time.

Thanksgiving

It doesn't matter if you're white or black, Christian or not, this or that, Thanksgiving is everyone's holiday. Everyone is allowed to celebrate it and everyone knows how to eat. It is my favorite holiday of the year, hands down.

Next month, my (Canadian) husband and I are hosting (American) Thanksgiving for the first time. It means that my parents, aunt and uncle, and sister's family are all coming from Michigan for a week. It means that my other sister and cousins - up and down the eastern seaboard - are taking the train to NY for an extended week end. It also means that a few took the liberty to invite their friends to our house for dinner. It's going to be a FULL house and I'm really looking forward to it. We're all bunking up and everyone's bringing their aerobeds. 

Yesterday, I watched Allie's kids after school. That means I had 5 kids ages 9, 8, 7, 5 and 2. We started on the playground, walked home, had snack. 7, 5 and 2 walked with me to drop 7 off at Hebrew School. 5 ran into 2, who cried loudly in my ear the whole way while on my hip. Came home and oversaw homework for 9 and 8, while putting fires out between 5 and 2. Prepped dinner intermittently. All then played outside. 2 burst through the driveway gate in a play car and had to be fetched before rolling into the street. The ball was kicked around and 5 felt left out. There was extensive negotiating with 9 and 8 about how to include 5.

In another life I once envisioned, I had 4 or 5 kids and a bustling household pulled in many directions. Autism was some strange and distant thing that happened only in other families. When I had my tumor, several years ago, there was discussion about saving some of my womanly parts in case my husband and I wanted more children. My husband was one of 5. I was one of 3, then 6 when my cousins came to live with us. We both came from large families. By the time of my tumor, we were in the thick of Belac's interventions. By then, we viewed him as our 2nd and 3rd, maybe even 4th kid, too; certainly this was true, financially. So even though we knew we probably wouldn't have more children, removing my cervix along with the tumor closed the chapter on a dream. It was hard.

I am very social by nature and am at my best when I'm not alone. Even playing the piano! My strength is in ensemble playing, not solo. I paid my NY rent by accompanying thousands of auditions and lessons. I could read whatever notes you put in front of me and was very supportive, I could follow whatever tempo or way you wanted to perform something on the spot. Kind of sounds like prostitution, I know, but it was never boring and the experience was thrilling. Maybe that's the thing that I miss so much as my boys are growing up and becoming more independent. I don't have more little ones to fuss over and accommodate. I've been looking into hosting a fresh air child, next summer. Is it possible that more than music or teaching or anything, I ultimately want to be mom?

Ditto

Even as recent as 5 years ago, I thought every problem was solvable. 10 years ago, after marrying my husband, I may have thought it was smooth sailing from then on.  He was making 40K back then, hardly a figure that could support what was in store for us in metro NY, but I thought that between our strengths we could figure anything out.  Now I look back and wonder how I dared to ever assume such things. And now I live, wondering when the next shoe will drop.

We are living in Intermission at the moment, a holding pattern of sorts.  Everyone in the family is in a better place this year. The boys seem happy and life and school just seem easier. Our home, despite needing work, is wonderful. None of us are currently living with the same kind of stress of the previous 5 years. Dare I say, we are kind of happy? But I am afraid to admit it for fear that life is again going to try to teach me something.  So I hold my breath and hope I'm not dreaming.

My husband told me the other day, "sometimes I think I'm going to wake up from all this."

Don't I totally know what he means! Ditto.

Fixing up

I am proud to report that I successfully installed a new faucet, drain and fixtures today. Fine. I admit. I began the job last week.  It also involved 3 trips to Home Depot to get the proper tools to remove the broken fixtures, a lot of starting all over, and a good amount of cursing. But in the end, the work was done properly and there are no leaks. I saved us 250 bucks.

We are at the end of our budget for home improvements. We have already spent serious money to have professionals take down dying trees and poison ivy, fix some ceilings, line our cracked furnace flue.... We still have rotting wood on the house and at least one exterior support pillar that needs to be replaced before winter, but there won't be money left over for professional painting. So if I can get the carpenter to budge on his price, where will you see me next week? On a borrowed ladder, sanding and painting outside, hopefully not making too much of a mess of things.

You don't know what you're capable of until you have no choice.  What would be the incentive if you had oodles of dough to burn to get someone else to do everything? For the past few months, I've been looking for a more full-time teaching job or other endeavor to compensate for my loosening grip on the kids. I wanted something meaningful to do. Well, this is it for now and it's kind of fun!  I have some things to keep me busy.

Authentic

I have known Olivia for much of my adult life. She has seen me and us through different living situations and places we've called home. I overheard her talking to my husband the other night. "I really like what you've done with this house," she commented, pointing out a few things. "Well, you take a good look at the house and work with what you have," my husband kind of shrugged, modestly.

I bought an old mirror for the wall above the fireplace.  It has 18 panels that form a star that seems to bulge from the wall. I think it's beautiful. A couple of weeks ago, my dad and I were sitting on the sofa talking. "That looks antique and like it's always been there," he pointed out. "Do you like it?" I asked him, "do you notice that two of the panels are cracked? I wasn't sure about it when I saw those cracks in person, but then the seller offered to let me have it for 50 bucks and I couldn't resist...."

"You could always get the panels replaced," someone said. "No," my dad countered, "you'll never match the color of the mirror, better to just leave it. It's pretty the way it is. And authentic."

That's what I was thinking, too.

Upon visiting the house for the first time, people have usually suggested updating our kitchen. Taking down a wall to make the kitchen bigger. Making the master bathroom a "true" master bath by borrowing space from the bedroom. Moving the laundry upstairs from the basement. I don't mind the suggestions, they clarified a few things for me... First of all, I am actually removing cabinets from our cozy kitchen because they are empty and I don't need them. I don't need more of or a bigger anything. I also happen to like the retro (aka dated) kitchen and am not interested in a marble counter top. And what about that elusive 'normal' that we've been chasing for the past 5 years that seemed to belong to everyone else but us? You know what? I realize that I value what I have. I'm not willing to let go of anything so quickly for the next best thing, not willing to let others dictate what our normal should be.

Working with what we have means respecting the core of ourselves. I think that's the greatest M.O.

it matters

My husband has lost 10 lbs. and an inch around his waist since April. Everyday, over the past 6 months, he has risen early to either run at the track or bike the North County Trailway. More importantly, he seems less stressed out and happier. In a recent email, he shared before and after photos with his family. All the positives were attributed to exercise, but it's definitely not the whole story.

We recently had 2 house payments, a mortgage at the old place and a rental in the new school district. We were stuck for over a year, paying for and babysitting the empty house, and it was hard and stressful. Quite amazingly, we had relief in May when the house finally sold. We were beginning to believe it would never happen. Six weeks ago, we moved into a bedroom in the new house which didn't require his side of the bed to be up against a wall. Suddenly, the same bed seems huge and a wonderful place to linger in.

Having breathing room, financially and physically... it matters to a person's well being. Just to have things not be so complicated and stretched for even the briefest time is such a sweet and necessary thing, even if you think you've become strong as steel. All I can say is that I am profoundly grateful that at the moment we've landed on our feet.

Grey is good

An old friend from highschool came to Boston with his family to hear me perform. I was so touched! They arrived the night before the second concert and stayed downtown. By the time I arrived to their hotel, his daughters and wife were already sleeping. We headed up to the bar to catch up.

We filled each other in on 22 years. Our families, careers, kids, how we felt about the school we went to - especially now as parents - and the current state of Michigan.... It was fascinating for me to hear how his life had taken shape over the years. And you know what was interesting to me? I had no problems talking about Belac. A few years ago, I would have been much more hesitant or even silent on the subject.

"Do you really think he's autistic?" my friend asked, never having met Belac.

"It's a spectrum disorder...." I answered with great pause, "and I guess it's interesting that I can't (or won't) answer you with a definitive 'yes' to that question."

Does he have the diagnosis, and from an internationally recognized institution at that? Yes. Did we almost bankrupt ourselves over his education and getting us to today? Yes. Have my husband and I been through some really hard times and did I ever think we'd fall apart? Yes. But is Belac "really" autistic...? What does that even mean? It's like asking me if I - daughter of Taiwanese immigrants and a visible minority - am really an American. While living in Germany, I always told people when asked that I was American and born in the Bronx, but they always followed up with, "ja, ja, I know, but where are you from?"

My boys are sweet, quirky and brilliant kids. They are the world to me. All I want is for them to find their place in this world. Be gainfully employed one day. Have a couple of die hard friends, find love, be appreciated and feel appreciation for those around them. Okay, I know it's a tall order and it sounds so touchy feely. But my point is, what I want for Belac is no different from what I hope for Jake. And I am definitely operating on the bold assumption that Belac's going to make it somehow, in his own way, despite autism.

Is Belac "really" autistic? It's such a loaded, emotionally charged question. I suddenly realized - while reflecting from afar in a Boston bar - that Belac is in a kind of grey area. This greyness is a gift. His future may not be certain, but more importantly, nor is it set in stone.

Okay

My parents are arriving to NY on Saturday. They are going to help with the kids when I go to Boston to play a couple of concerts. It's good incentive for my husband and me to unpack all of our boxes and get things set up. Today, Will, our next door neighbor, helped us move one of their ping pong tables into our basement. (They fortuitously had an extra one that they gifted us.) It was no small feat, we had to take the heavy thing all apart midway down the basement steps! On Saturday, my dad - a one-time ping pong champion - will play ping pong with my husband, a strong player....

We are now living in this sweet town, "Sunny Patch." We are next door neighbors with Allie and Will, the nicest people, and our kids- good buddies - go freely between our houses. Last night, Allie brought over extra guacamole they had made. We take each other's kids when we have quick or even long errands to run. It's the nicest thing! Hopefully, we will have this amazing relationship in the many years to come....

It's important to me that my parents know that we are doing okay.  There was a time when I cried uncontrollably on the phone with my mother of all people. I remember being in the house with the hill and sobbing in my mother's arms inconsolably. I didn't feel strong enough to deal with everything on my plate. And I remember her telling me that of all the people she knew in her life, she felt that I was the only one that had what it took to help a kid like Belac... It was the nicest thing she ever said to me.

I'm not saying it's all sunshine and roses. I'm not saying it's smooth sailing and we're happily ever after. But I know what it's like to worry about your kid and I don't want my parents to worry about me. Things are okay. We've come a long way in 5 years and I think we're going to be okay.