Monday morning

Belac 2/11

I read a large swath of this blog recently. I pretended not to know myself and it occurred to me that I sound sad. Am I really sad? And have I always been this way?

I do think that if it weren't for autism, I'd be much tougher with the kids. We'd probably have 3 or 4 of them, too. Maybe my career wouldn't take such a backseat because I'd trust everyone would be resilient enough to deal with it. And maybe things would be different with my husband, too. There is something about creating a child with challenges that is at first very confusing and scary, then blame-worthy in a finger pointing way, and then just continuously worrisome all around, like a hum you can occasionally tune out but is always there.

The other day, I asked my husband if there was anything in his life he'd go back and do over.  He had studied math, philosophy and piano in school. There was a brief stint in law school, an additional degree in math, some years as a computer programmer and then business consultant before ending up in IT. Did he think he made the right choices? I thought we were talking about his career. He told me. If I could go back and do anything over I'd make sure that I wasn't so tired and stressed out when we conceived Belac. I was speechless. It has nothing to do with that, I told him, nothing.

But then I'm contradicting myself, aren't I? Belac was born with the cord around his neck and didn't cry right away. After brief cuddling with me, he was swept away to the baby room. For reasons that had everything to do with shift changes and the craziness in this NYC hospital that day, he wasn't brought back to me for the next 2 hours. I look back and know I should have caused such a crazy, insane fuss that he wasn't in my arms the whole time, snuggling and bonding with me right away in his first hours. We should have immediately named him, too. We wanted him, I wanted him! But maybe he didn't feel it.... And that is what I'd do all over again. I'd make sure that Belac didn't have a second to doubt my love or want of him. Don't, my husband says.

I brought Belac to school this rainy morning. It's the kind of weather that troubles him and keeps him up at night. He responded to no one's greetings and didn't appear to see or hear anything around him. And that is what really concerns me. Yes, yes, I know. I've heard it all! We're lucky. He has language. He can be engaging. He's talented and smart. We have resources and another child who does not have autism. But on this Monday morning that's raining cats and dogs, all I can wonder is. How in the world is he going to make it out there? What can I do?

parting thoughts

Belac 2/11

We just discovered the nearby Chappaqua library. It's much better stocked than our own town library, what a glorious place! I signed up Jake and my husband for the parent and child book club. The librarian spent one-on-one time with Jake, helping him find a variety of new books. She showed me graphic novels with little or no text that might interest Belac. And then I sat the kids down with their books and went searching for my own, something I normally wouldn't do with kids in tow. We are off to Montreal, tonight. Who knows, maybe I'll have time to read.

My husband's grandma turns 95 years old this weekend and we're driving in to see her. Like Regina, she has been a widow for a long time. The big difference is that she has had my husband's parents nearby. When living by herself in her apartment became too much, they found her a senior facility, where there is a doctor on call 24/7. She goes down to the dining room for every meal and if she doesn't show up, they go knocking on her door.  If everyone could be so lucky to live with such security and decency in old age.

I received the package, today. I found an amethyst necklace and earrings in a small heart shaped box made of calf leather. We share the same birthstone and it means something to me that these were gifts from her husband, someone she loved and respected and walked to Russia for. Someone she thoroughly missed. She told me, last summer, that she felt close to her husband when home. I can understand why she wanted to be there when she died.

I'm signing off for a few days. Bon Voyage!

what money can buy

Belac 2/11

As we walked to the car, last night, my husband asked if I ever wished to be super rich in order to have whatever I wanted. This question after people-watching at the NY Metropolitan Opera from the view of our complimentary parterre seats.

Seriously? The only thing I really want is for the kids to be okay. I'd start with making Belac's challenges vanish. 

But that's not something you can buy.

That's right.

We huddled against the frigid wind as we noticed how dramatically Lincoln Center had changed since living in the neighborhood. 

Zooming up the empty Henry Hudson, I offered. I guess I'd make coming into the city for plays and concerts a regular thing.

He squeezed my hand. We can do that.

Meeting at the MET

Belac 2/11

Olivia and her husband have given us tickets to tonight's Iphigenie at the Met. Both are working the show, Susan Graham and Placido Domingo are singing, I found last minute babysitting. What an impossibly decadent evening! It's been forever since I've seen Olivia at the Met. I used to go regularly as a Juilliard student when I had access to free or almost free tickets. Later, I went to an occasional show with friends or my parents. But I don't think I've ever been with my husband.

What a timely gift. I recently vowed to make and spend more quality time with my husband. It is otherwise too easy for me to take him for granted. He's an amazing dad and husband. He's also very funny and makes me laugh. But he also gets home late and doesn't often eat dinner with us, we're always interrupted by other calls when I reach him during the day, and not so long ago, I was only concerned about the autism problem and then the selling the house problem.... I think part of me went severely missing along the way. Since settling into Sunny Patch things have only gotten better. But as all the studies recommend. Talk about stuff besides the kids and money. Find novel things to do together. Get out of your routine and keep it fresh!

Thanks for the tickets, Olivia!

New York, New York

Belac at the Guggenheim 2/11

Waiting for everyone to get ready. We are about to take the train into the city for Korean bbq and a visit to the Guggenheim.  Olivia asked the other day. Do you think you could ever live in the city again?

The answer is yes.

My husband ran up to take a shower after running. He stopped and looked at me curiously. Are you wearing make up?  No, I laughed.  He stepped back and looked again, puzzled, and I laughed some more. I'm just wearing jeans and all the stuff I've always owned. My hair is askew. But I do look like I'm going someplace and I'm happy. There's a part of me that will always be a city girl.

Post Script

Belac 2/11

PD called today. I hadn't spoken to her since the day Regina died.

She asked, are you going next week?

What's next week?

Richard didn't call you...?

No.

There's a ceremony for Regina at her apartment....

Oh. When did he call you?

Several weeks ago. I asked if he had called you and he told me he called everyone. He didn't call you?

No.

She took down my address. She told me she was sending me the earrings and pendant Regina left for me.

I hung up and was at first very bent out of shape. How could he not invite me? I was one of 3 telephone numbers on the front page of her address book. She spent Thanksgiving with me. I visited her every other week for a year, more at times, and helped her straighten out all sorts of messes. Didn't he know how I cared about her?  Maybe he didn't know. Or maybe he did and that was the problem. Either way I can almost hear Regina's exasperation. Forget about it, Gimky!! He's a fool! Spend the afternoon with your family! Get on with your life!

that spot

Belac 12/10

In the evenings, I usually walk the dog to a street where I can take in the clearest view of a star-filled sky and the rooftops of Sunny Patch. So often I leave the warmth of the house unmotivated and wishing our property was fenced, but then arrive at this peak and change my mind. It's always beautiful out in some redeeming way and I take a deep breath. It's great to be alive!

Yesterday, we found out that my husband's bonus is enough to replace our decaying roof.  I felt such intense gratitude at hearing this news. It was a little like standing at that spot.

marriage

Belac 2/11

I watched a classmate of Belac's micromanage his every move. Wow, I turned to his Aide, does it really start this early?

"Lucky for him! He'll have a lot of practice getting used to it by the time he gets married," she laughed.

I know that marriage is not the end all be all. Plenty of marriages don't last and some are not happy ones. But to be able to joke about Belac getting married one day and not have it seem so far-fetched made me pause.

Since Belac's diagnosis, I no longer assume certain things about either of my boys, at least in the way that most people do. And maybe that's wrong. Maybe I should be operating on the assumption that they will get married and happily at that, that they will do well in school, that they will make good friends, find rewarding jobs later on, and grow into compassionate men that feel compelled to help others. Instead of having it be such a blank slate in my head, maybe I should dare to make a few assumptions.

explosion

 Belac 1/11

The house has exploded with markers and drawings everywhere. It's all this kid wants to do. Draw, write books, and compose homework sheets that he insists be completed right away. One day, I discovered he had drawn elaborately all over the wall next to his bottom bunk that we had just fashioned into a clubhouse. I noticed he had chosen the sharpies. Ok, I took a deep breath, it's his space. If he's willing to live with this, so am I. He's prolific and has new ideas all of the time. Everyday I log in here, I choose from a dozen more drawings to post.

No incentive for behaving at school is more powerful than the promise of 5 minutes of drawing time. With marker in hand, Belac is entirely immersed in his own world, to the extent that he despairs when life interrupts a drawing. When things don't go well, he crumples up the paper with a wail and with great ceremony, throws the ball into the fireplace. The adults and kids around him look at the content and details of his drawings with keen interest. With extreme concentration and no help from anyone, he reveals himself in ways that he is not able in person. Every child who came to his party, recently, knew to bring him markers. Good thing, because they're always drying out and he will use them all, I guarantee it.

Day in day out, I find something new every time I turn around. Now and again, he wants to look at an old picture and we have to search all over the house for just that one. He is very attached to his drawings. I love it and it's wonderful! But for crying out loud, we have to figure out how to contain this passion a little before it completely takes over.

Healthy Heart

 

Belac 2/11

Volunteered for a Healthy Heart event and assisted some 2nd graders at school. 40 kids walked into the gym and there was Belac with a huge smile just for me, waving several times during the gym teacher's speech. There was an obstacle course set up and I manned the scooter line. Every time Belac came to get a scooter, he made sure I noticed him and grinned from ear to ear.

His Aide was nowhere to be seen. Scanning the whole group, I really couldn't tell that Belac was any different from the others. I was so proud of him. When she arrived at the end of class, I noticed it was the hand of the girl who just lost her mother that the Aide chose to hold. As I passed Belac in line and on his way back to the classroom, I made a creepy crawly on Belac's head. He turned to me laughing, "Bye, Mom!" I hugged him tight and kissed him. 

As I left the building, I ran into Hayley and her husband. "You here for a meeting?" I asked.  The dad said. "You know, you have such high aspirations for the other one [the one that's not on the more limited trajectory] so this is hard."

"She is a sweet girl," I told them, "she's going to be okay. I see her at after school and she helps Belac. Helps him, Hayley! Don't be scared. I know, who am I to talk, right? But you'll figure out what she needs and it's going to be okay. She'll be okay!"

"It's two for two," Hayley showed me the peace sign.

I know. I said, pulling on my hat. So are we ever going to get together before these kids graduate? 

"Yes, we need to have tea!"

Maybe something stronger! I kissed them both and hugged Hayley a long time. Good luck.

Regina

Belac 2/11

I went to a skyscraper in NYC looking for Regina, last night. I found her in a waiting room high up. She was middle-aged and said something to me, the way you make nice with a stranger. I followed her upstairs, where she became even younger, before she had Richard. Then I followed her down 50 flights of stairs, moving fast to keep up. Every time I turned a corner and caught glimpse of her, she was a little grayer and older. By the time we landed at the first floor and reached the exit, she was an old woman, again, but not quite old enough to know me. And then quick as a snap, she just vanished.

I woke up crying.

The other day I was halfway to Queens before I realized I had missed my exit miles and miles ago. I slapped myself on the head and sort of laughed at the time. But this morning, all I could do was cry.

lucky

 Belac 2/11

"So when are we all moving back to Michigan, EB?" I asked, knowing that it was kind of a crazy question that wasn't entirely crazy.

My childhood friend, Abby, was away this wknd. Her husband came with their children for dinner. The 3 of us are originally from Michigan, my husband from Montreal. We each had parents who were immigrants and/or self-made. We each - in turn - left family and came for school or job prospects and stayed. In the absence of having family in the area, we are family. At Abby's 40th, a couple years back, EB made a toast and sweetly and surprisingly referred to my husband and me as their best friends. I remember thinking it's so true, they are the closest friends we have. Like family, actually.

Before we moved to Sunny Patch, they gave just one big push to get us out to CT. They had done a little research on special needs and had a list of people to talk to. But my husband and I never seriously considered it. It was going to be logistically too far away from NY for us. They even had the idea of selling us their current house and upgrading to a bigger place a few doors down. But their house was also a wreck at the time and like all houses in CT, pretty isolated on 2 acre lots.  To live there meant giving up any option to walk anywhere and I stubbornly believed that my kids, especially Belac, needed to be in a small, pedestrian-friendly town, walking everywhere, practicing saying hi to everyone, practicing, as early as possible and everyday, how to be part of a community on their own two feet.

Our friends, on the other hand, have since fixed up their house and are about to feel the extreme pinch as they enroll their 2nd of 3 children into private school.  In the end, EB has told me, I'm not sure their education is that much better than what their cousins are getting back in Allen Park. (A working class neighborhood in MI where he grew up.)

EB and my husband talked personal finance and other stuff.  My husband warmed up sugar pie, reminding us of our families' Canadian road trips together. Their eldest leaned her head on my shoulder. Do you miss your mom? I stroked her back. Yeah, I miss her a lot, she sighed.

We are so lucky, Gimky. So lucky! EB repeated as he hugged me goodnight.

I know. I really know that.  

Maybe this is as good as it gets.

heart and soul

 

Belac 2/11

Husband conferenced me in on a call with the insurance/special needs/finance guy from awhile back.

"How are you Gimky?" he asked like we were old friends.

Fine.

"Gimky has 4 kids with her now so there will be extra noise on her end," my husband explained.

"Lucky you!" he exclaimed.

"I am lucky," I replied, making no effort to conceal my irritation.  At this point, 4 kids were banging out Heart and Soul on the pianos accompanied by lots of noise, pushing, and laughter. Belac was in the thick of it all. What was there to not totally love about this?

The men discussed numbers and options.  I couldn't digest any of it and my mind wandered.

I wondered if I should line up the 4 kids and introduce each one to Steve on the phone. I'd ask. Why don't you tell me which of these four is NOT going to McGill, you know, just to be clear...? Belac can actually sound pretty normal on the phone and I like to think he'd give this guy a serious run for his money. I tend to be an overly forgiving person, but make assumptions about my kid, dismiss his abilities over a diagnosis without even meeting him, especially when his diagnosis benefits only your best interest? Well, I become a royal pain in the ASS and impossible to deal with. 

I tuned in just in time to hear the guy say something about 30K. "30 thousand...??! You've got to be kidding!" I snorted. I couldn't stop myself. Let him squirm. I dare him to utter one more word about my son and why I so desperately need his services or another product for which he surely earns a commission.

"Hey!" I say into the phone with impatience. "I don't get any of this and am signing off. Sweetie pie, we'll go over this tonight, okay?"

"I'll take some notes," my husband replied so diplomatically I wanted to laugh even more. I am always so impressed by his restraint. Left up to me we'd never get this done with my emotions and pride all getting in the way.  Better to go back to heart and soul and trust my husband on all this.

family bonds

Belac 2/11

I listen to my sister talk about the mouse poop she found in her kitchen drawer, and how her search for childcare is going nowhere. She works full-time and her babysitter has just given notice. She listens to me tell her about the yellow-colored water seeping through my ceiling and how I'm going to start teaching on Sundays because it's the only day I don't have to pay a sitter. And it just seems like we have it all wrong. Who says that just because you can "afford" it that everyone should have their own house? What did I/we really gain by coming to NY and moving so far away from family? We should be living closer to each other. I even kind of feel that we should be living in a two-family where we can pool resources and energy to take care of things and each other.

I have an old high school friend, now living in NH. He and his wife have 2 children, and they divided a family property in the country with the wife's sister. Two families raise their kids side by side and the kids really behave like both houses are theirs.  They share landscaping equipment, they raise chickens together, the parents all work and share in babysitting, and the kids are obviously close. How is that not a beautiful life they're giving their children?

Another friend moved to Maine with her husband. Her brother's family and her parents loved the area so much, they did the same and now share in their business. Still, another went down to Florida with his young family. Again, wooed by the warm weather and the grandkids, his parents and sister soon followed. These families stuck together, and I tend to think they did it right.

Families living together and being close by. It's what people used to do, it's what Asians still do, it's what immigrants do. Isn't it so much better in the most important ways? Strength in numbers.

Sugar!

Belac 2/11

Never continue to plunge a toilet if there's no result after a few tries.

Otherwise you might go downstairs and see water pouring out of the ceiling and dripping down the walls.  When you go to turn off the main water switch, you might see even more puddles in the basement. Then you might have to wait a couple of hours for any plumber to show up while watching water transform your ceiling. You might be left wiping the walls and hoping it's enough to save them.

Just saying.

violin

Belac 2/11

Over 20 years ago, I befriended a local violin dealer. At the time, I studied both violin and piano at music conservatory and really wanted to upgrade my violin. I didn't have much money and my options were limited. But along came a sweet violin during my junior year, and the dealer agreed to take my old violin, a bow, and a thousand dollars in exchange for it. I was in heaven.

I adore this violin, and so did my teacher who told me that if I didn't buy it, he would. It has a sweet and clear sound that carries with a tinge of melancholy. It also zings and has verve with just the right amount of resistance. Even when someone else plays it, I recognize it's voice. And it's just physically beautiful in the way old, handmade things with histories and all its physical imperfections are. It is also a curiosity. The label is supposedly fake, too new to be true. But I did know from the dealer and my teacher that the violin was very old, a couple hundred years at least, and that the details pointed possibly to Tyrol, an Austrian city near Italy.

Nice violin, someone would remark now and again. Musicians would sometimes ask, "what is it?"  I always just shrugged. I didn't know and didn't really care, but I loved playing it, especially the lyrical romantic stuff. I also remember that an old boyfriend, a violinist, looked at my violin with a sort of interest on the verge of envy. By then I was studying at Juilliard and more officially a pianist. He always thought I was so lucky to have such a nice violin.

Today, I went to have the violin looked at. The bridge was starting to warp and a new one needed to be cut. I hadn't brought the violin to anyone in the longest time and made an appointment with a reputable violinmaker. He took the violin in his hands and took a long look.

"Is it an Albani?" he asked without taking his eyes from it.

"I don't know...."

He took out a ruler and made measurements, he eyeballed every grain and studied every seam. He was all over it.

"It's in great condition," he told me. "Have you shown this to Francais [appraiser of rare instruments in NYC]?

"No," I replied, taken aback by the question.

"Have you shown this to anyone in the city at all?" 

Again, no. I cleared my throat and suddenly felt defensive. "I know, I know it's not properly insured."

"What's it insured for?"

I always sort of knew that the violin didn't match the numbers, but now felt stupid and confused. "I have a paper stating this violin was worth $6000 in 1991, but I think the guy who appraised it and sold this to me has since died."

He gave me a look. "He couldn't help you anyway, he doesn't know what he sold you." And you don't know what you have, I later realized he was thinking beneath his irritation.

"You should know," he began after we stood in silence looking at my violin, "people show me instruments all of the time. They show me Strads and I don't believe them. I'm a skeptic. But if you had walked in here and told me this was an Albani, I wouldn't have blinked an eyelash. I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure this is an Albani."

Well, you've met your match, I let myself laugh. I'm not about to believe that I happen to own a genuine Albani!

He gave me the name of 2 violin appraisers, people I need to draw up papers for proper instrument insurance. The guy in France would come closest to telling you definitively, he told me. France? The other guy works here in NYC. What does this mean? What will these papers cost me? At 7% of the appraised value, you're easily looking at a few thousand dollars even if I'm wrong. Even without the label, it's a nice violin you have there.

20 years ago, I offered up all of my valuables worth anything in exchange for this violin and shamelessly haggled on top of that. I didn't need a designer label to feel or behave that way, I fell in love with this violin from the very first note. Despite the violinmaker's snap assessment, I think this qualifies as knowing what I have, even if I don't know what it is exactly. And frankly, no expert will know for sure.

I'm not selling the violin so the number value is irrelevant. However, I will do what I have to do to get this violin insured. Eventually. Remember that self-renewing list I mentioned earlier? Well, it's on that list of things to do.

planning and saving

Belac 2/11

I have decided to teach on Sundays. I have a waiting list of kids who want lessons and have put them off for quite some time.  I've gone back and forth between wanting more students or not, wanting to eat into family time or not.  But you know what? My husband and I again took a hard look at our finances, last night. We could use the money. And teaching on Sundays would spare us additional child care costs.

It really surprises and concerns us that we are not saving more money. We were fortunate to buy this house at well below market price. But with the school district being the kind it is, the high property and school taxes more than make up for the mortgage savings.  And then there's the other stuff. We went to see my parents in Florida in December, which we probably should not have done in retrospect. A couple of "normal" months followed and now payments for summer camp are due. It's  just a local place, but it is very well-staffed and integrates special needs kids into the typical program. It's not cheap, in other words, hence the payment plan....  Without fail, the list of things to pay for  renews itself.  Keeping up and getting ahead takes planning and diligence.

We also talked about life insurance again.  It feels ridiculous to have this conversation about remote possibilities, but in light of recent events I know we need to talk. Again, my husband tells me that he expects me to get married if he dies. I roll my eyes. I'm not getting married again, I tell him, besides I'm a package deal and a liability. That's why we have to change the numbers, he explained while studying our bills, your prospects will be better if you're better off financially. The kids will need a father, Gimky, and you will need a husband. I roll my eyes.

If you died, my husband added, I'd sell this house.

I don't think so.

You'd keep the house for 3 people? he asked, looking up.

Yes. And you would, too.

...and how could you or I bring someone else here and get on with things?

It would be traumatic enough for the kids to lose me or you without also missing the house where they have the most recent memories of us. There's no way either of us would move that quickly unless we were forced to.... If you bring someone home, you'd want her not to be in the kids' face. And the person after me will likely have children, at least part of the time. It's going to come down to whose house is bigger and can accomodate everyone better and you know this house can hold a bunch more people.... So she'll change all the furniture, paint all of the walls new colors....The house is an asset.

Okay... we'll adjust the numbers for the house.

I can't believe the conversation we had.

PS - In November, I changed out all the regular and halogen light bulbs in the house for compact florescent ones. They cost a fortune but they're better for the environment and will supposedly last 7 years and save us money over the long term.  I also keep reminding the kids to turn off lights when unnecessary. Since November, we have saved an easy $20 a month in electric.

I also figured out how to program our thermometer and no one has complained for the past 2 days.

• 6:15a - 8am,  65 degrees
• 8a - 3pm, 60 degrees,
• 3p - 9:15p, 65 degrees
• 9:15p - 6:15a, 60 degrees

The boys are comfy under their pile of blankets at bedtime. But last night my husband had a good laugh when I told him to touch my nose. Despite being a short nose that sits close to my face, it was very, very cold!

looking

Belac 2/11

My husband really wants to quit his job. I have suspected and known for awhile. Even during the interview process, 7 years ago, his relationship with the CFO was dubious. My husband was interviewed by 6 people at the company and was recommended by 5. The 6th person wanted someone else for the job. The 6th person also happened to be the CFO, who had already informally offered the job to a former colleague.

However it came to pass, my husband was eventually hired for the job. My husband was swiftly utilized all over the company and quickly promoted several times.  He knew from the start, though, that his relationship with the CFO would be one that needed work. We were very lucky, on the one hand. We had huge bills over Belac's education, then double living costs when our house wouldn't sell before we moved for the school. The promotions helped keep us afloat. But with every step closer to the CFO and having to deal with him more regularly, the more stressful and unenjoyable my husband's job became.

The CFO is prickly to begin with. I've met him on several occasions and although he is nice enough, he is definitely a both-hands-in-his-pockets-what-are-you-going-to-do-for-me kind of guy. And for whatever reason, he really doesn't like my husband. This past year, the CFO has taken to belittling my husband publicly, who now freezes up and second guesses himself for no good reasons. The morale at work is precarious at best as the company continues to let people go even as it regains footing in this economy. My husband is now completely stressed out and very unhappy over work.

This job is not worth the money, my husband told me late last night with tears in his eyes.  I sat with my arm around his shoulders. I have learned not to say much and just listen during these kinds of times. Anything I say would just put more pressure on him and he knows, anyway. The kids are settling into a new school with resources. We're getting our finances in order and saving a little money. We just bought a house. There's a certain stability we haven't had in years.

This morning, I heard my husband running on the treadmill at 5:30am, this after he had just been exercising last night at 8:30pm. He readied for work as if preparing for battle and left the house with a long face that no amount of hugging or me pinching his cheeks or sculpting his lips could budge. My husband's well being is so important to this family. Something has to change.

everyday

Belac 1/11

My husband and I sat Belac down, yesterday, and told him that his friend's mom had died.  Did he understand? I wondered. He put his hands to his mouth and was quiet. My husband later told me that he was sure Belac understood. It is important to be a good friend to Crissy, I continued, because she might miss her mom and be very sad. You can draw her a picture or play a game with her at recess... Be nice to her, okay?

Okay, he said. Crissy has a dad, so she's a little bit lucky.

Yes, she has her dad, I agreed and then left the topic.

The mom literally dropped dead of an aneurysm on Saturday. It was shocking news to everyone. She was a class mom, the kind of person that had so much joy and said hi to everyone. She was genuinely warm and nice and touched the lives of so many people. Most recently, she helped us fit Belac's bunny costume for the play.

As we walked to school, this morning, Belac began to cry.  I don't want you to work, I want you to read me a story.

I can't read a story to your class, today, but I will another day. 

I'm going to die!

Don't say that. 

We arrived to school just in time to see Belac's teacher, wiping away tears and trying to get herself together before the morning bell.  I hugged her.  I gave Belac's Aide a heads up about our walk to school and noticed that her eyes were red, too. Crissy's dad had just told them that she did not understand where her mom was.

The Aide held Belac's hand and bent over to catch his eye as his teacher and I looked on. Everyday is a gift, she declared so importantly as if speaking to all of us, we have to make the best of everyday!

Notes

Belac 1/11

1) Kids home a lot this week, house is a wreck. I've kept my sanity by keeping at least the kitchen tidy. I always enjoy the first few hours of a snow day. The kids practice, read, run around, we do a couple of fun projects... but eventually the day cooped up at home starts sliding down hill with complaints of boredom, begging for computer and tv, and the usual bickering.

2) We have spent so much time shoveling and salting despite spending so much money on a service. I am dying for a snowblower but there's none to be found in metro NY.

3) It's so hard to save meaningful money. I have studied our visa bill and see that we spend gobs on food. I never used to shop at Costco and am going to stop. I opened an account in November when my family came for Thanksgiving and the food bill has been exorbitant since. I am going back to my Trader Joe's and Apple Farm ways, pronto!

Also, I let the cleaning lady go. She was coming every other week to give the house a scrub down but it made no sense because I know how to clean, do clean, and have the time to clean. So you're looking at the new cleaning lady....

This year is the year we start a fund for Belac. This year is the year we start contributing to Jake's college fund after 9 years of inactivity. For some reason, I just thought that we'd suddenly have much more money to sock away but it's not appearing that way. I'm totally motivated and determined to figure it out, rid ourselves of wasteful spending, and save for the future.

4) I've cut back on drinking much of anything but water these past 2 weeks. I think I might be sleeping better. Since it takes so little effort, it makes sense to just keep it up. It's healthier and saves a little money, too.

5) But before I present myself as a goody two shoes, you should know I haven't had luck with the treadmill. I would be quite happy to lose 10 lbs but I've been saying that forever. Yes, I've heard it. Eat less, half a plate of veggies and fruit, and please, please get off your butt and do something!

By the way, I tried to activate some brown fat, last night, but my husband thought it was a bit extreme and turned up the heat. So much for that idea!

Update

Belac 1/11

My parents arrived to Amman, Jordan, yesterday. They tried to leave Egypt via Cairo, but then the State Department showed up in Aswan and flew them directly to an air force base in Jordan along with citizens from 4 other countries. My sisters and I are relieved that they finally left Egypt, especially since the situation in Cairo has turned violent.

My parents have 6 days in Jordan before returning on their original flight to the US. They will probably just enjoy their time there. With all the gridlock in Europe and the thousands of cancelled flights in the US due to weather, it's unlikely they could get home much earlier anyway. I'm sure they will have plenty of stories to tell when they finally return.

I also just want to add that it is terrible that the government shut down Egypt's internet and wireless services. Needless to say, it was impossible for my parents to get reliable information on their own. But more importantly, preventing especially a suppressed people from communicating only results in more frustration, confusion, misinformation, no ability to organize and calm down, and no other outlet but taking anger to the streets. Shutting down communication is a clear sign that the government is not interested in listening to its people - or anyone else, for that matter.

Whatever our system's problems, we are so lucky to live in a free and democratic society!

afterthoughts

Belac 1/11

It snowed heavily this morning. I was just about to call Regina when PD called. "Gimky, she died this morning."

What? I was supposed to see her today. The new plant that should be hers sits on my table blooming red. I actually believed she would still live awhile and cannot believe she's gone.

I hung up the phone and strangely, life continued without pause. There was early dismissal from school and we walked home through hail. I made chili for lunch. I responded to txts with family over Egypt. I shoveled part of the roof. Jake played with neighbors. I made jello with Belac. The day was quiet and surreal.

Then Ella called. "Gimky!" she exclaimed.

I felt tears rush to my eyes. She had met Regina numerous times over the years and now knew from my entry. "It's okay," I said, wiping away tears, "she was ready and it's what she wanted. It was time."

"Didn't you have a strange dream about Regina the other night?" my husband asked tonight.

I did. Regina was in a long row of people in wheel chairs and hospital beds. A teacher was conducting a physical therapy class before them. Regina was in a hospital bed but managed to follow along and do all of the exercises. Suddenly, we realized that she was leading class from her bed. She wore black, a color she never wears. Everyone watched and I sobbed.

I feel like it would be the most natural thing for me to call her right now to say good night. I'd tell her, Regina! Remember that almost 92 year old woman I told you about who was so sick? Well, she died this morning. And she would tell me, don't be sad. Better that she doesn't suffer any longer. It was time and she lived a long and good life.

I'm going to miss you so much, Regina.

Rest in Peace

Rest In Peace dear Regina.

February 1919 - February 2011

Exodus

Belac 1/11

My parents are on an emergency evacuation list with the US State Dept. and trying to fly out of Egypt on a US charter flight. It means that my parents must return to Cairo, but it's the only reliable way out at this point. Commercial flights have been cancelled right and left leaving thousands stranded at airports. From Cairo, they'll probably be flown to Greece or some other safe haven country, where they will have to make their own arrangements home. They love to travel and I think (and hope) that once they are out of Egypt, they'll be just fine.