sunk

 Belac 6/11

I spent a couple of hours with our inspector at the clapboard house, yesterday. Our offer was accepted a second time, again as the 'best complete' offer. The listing agent hovered as the inspector and I went through the house with a fine tooth comb, spending most of the time in the basement.

There are water issues in the basement that require soil and part of the driveway to be regraded. A rotting and mildewy wallboard needs to be pulled out so the wall can dry. Correcting the water problem would be a significant expense, but not something that couldn't be negotiated into the price of the house. More problematic, though, is the presence of oil pipes in front of the house and in the basement. You see, the house was converted to gas years ago. Why weren't those oil pipes taken out with the tank?  Gotta make sure there's not an oil tank buried in the front lawn, Gimky! The inspector told me. Otherwise along with the asbestos roof you have buried in your name, you might have this can of worms, too.

I went to town hall to pick up the house records. Astonishingly, not a single permit was filed on the house in the past 100 years. Nothing for the gas conversion, nothing for the removal of the oil tank, windows and roof, nothing for the bathroom in the basement that I'm now certain is illegal, or for the garage that was turned into a room, for that matter... nothing. To find this out, after the listing agent said he was certain the Owner - a town employee - had all of the C.O.s and us sinking 500 bucks into an inspection! You really can't trust anyone.

The house shows well. It's beautiful, in fact! But the C.O.s are not there. It's impossible to know what was done properly and up to code without shelling out more money into this. And given that the house is a short sale and on the brink of foreclosure, I can't expect the Owner to be able to help out, much less dig up the buried oil tank and make sure there is no soil contamination. (1 - 1 - 4 ...)

I feel sorry for the Owner. He told me about his shoulder, yesterday, and his need to sell and retire. He told me he hopes we buy the house. I just hope he really did have the 2 other offers his agent said he did and that at least one party is emotionally attached enough to the house's charm. The water was one thing. But all the missing paperwork and the buried oil tank -  the Owner claimed to know nothing about - pretty much sunk this deal for us.

running for his life

 Belac 2/11

My husband's alarm went off at 4:45 this morning and I heard him sigh. I suggested that he sleep another hour. His first conference call would not be until 7. But he wanted to get some work done and needed to get to the office. I soon heard the front door click shut. Couldn't sleep and got up.

Noticed his computer bag by the front door and his car in the drive as I headed to the kitchen.

Sweetie pie...? Where are you?

I then saw that his running shoes were gone.

My husband has discipline and resolve that is truly remarkable. It's another one of those early and late days for him, the kind of day he dreads, and what did he do? He got up even earlier to run.

Vermont

 Belac 4/11

I love Vermont. Once upon a time, I worked there as a pianist for a music festival in the summers. I lived at a ski lodge where I had my own apartment with piano, and was sent all over the state to accompany and play chamber music with string players.  I was also living in NYC during those years, so spending some summer weeks in VT felt just magical in contrast. The air was so fresh, the mornings were so crisp, the sky was so blue, the hills were alive with music, and taking in the endless starry sky just made me die every night!

Vermont was also the place where my future husband came to visit and pursue me romantically, after almost a decade of more-or-less platonic friendship. It was a sweet and carefree time. He made me dinners, we took picnics, I wrote some mushy letters and he even let me put a ridiculous wreath of wildflowers around his neck that I had made. I have a photo somewhere to prove it.... Over the years, we've always talked about returning. And now, 15 years since those Vermont days - when I first fell head over heels for my husband - we're going for a visit with the entire family.

After making sure that my violin student could take the dog in exchange for her July lessons, I called up to reserve the family package I saw online. Unbelievably, the guy at the front desk was someone who vaguely remembered me from back then. He filled me in on all the changes at the ski place. Told me about the fireworks show on Sunday night (always amazing, I remember!), a circus that was coming, and all the swimming that was now to be had. I asked him if a certain restaurant was still there, if it was still possible to swim at Echo Lake and found out where we could bike. We also talked at length about our mutual friends and acquaintances at that festival, long gone. It was wild. Someone was still there who remembered!

Remembering those days makes me happy. By the time I was in VT, back then, I had pretty much come into my own. I had accomplished a few things professionally, I was independent, as confident as I ever would be, and it was just a time when everything seemed possible. The summer that my would-be husband began visiting, my parents also surprised me with an amazing piano, (an incredible story I will have to share another time). I remember crying on the phone with Mrs. Abramsohn over it and feeling like the luckiest freaking person on the planet.

Vermont. Where have you been all these years? Here we come!

lunch

Belac 4/11

My friend, Soo, came for lunch today. She brought her 8 year old, who starts his summer program on Friday. Our other boys were already in camp. Normally, we meet up every few months for a bowl of soup or coffee at a diner, but her son was home and having issues and I suggested that they come to me to break up a long day.

Her son played on the computer as we chatted over salad and strawberries. Mostly, she filled me in on all the hitting, kicking and self injurious behavior. She told me about recent incidents in public and alluded to it being so hard on her husband and his family. We talked strategies. When it was time for them to go and she turned off the computer, the behavior began. He was much more verbal than I ever remembered and started kicking the table top. The first time he kicked and looked right at her, almost knocking over a chair in the process. Then he continued kicking, always with the bottom of his foot, while wailing at the top of his lungs. Then he slipped and really hurt his shin, warranting a real cry. She eventually got him to jump up and down. What are feet for? She asked him. Walking, he replied as he kicked the wall. It was all pretty dramatic.

Come, I said to Brian, as my friend went to the bathroom, I want to show you something. He cried but followed. I showed him some toys and the dog followed. The dog likes you! I pointed with a smile. He made a motion as if to hit me. Oh no you don't! I told him. Use your words! You are so good at talking now!

As we walked outside, my friend had pain written all over her face. This has all taken it's toll on me, she said. Her son pinched her. Hey Brian, I said, stroking his head. You love mom. Mom is good. Let's hug mom. He leaned in close and then pinched her again. No! Like this, I tried to show him as I hugged him goodbye. We stood in silence as we watched him get into the car. I noticed she was like a ghost of herself and so still, so at the end of her rope. I am not scared of this, Soo, I said turning to her. You can drop him off with me whenever you need, I can give you a break. I put my arm around her. At the very least I can help you brainstorm. She burst into tears and I suddenly felt her weight fall into my arms and chest as I wrapped my arms around her. We stood crying together for a long time.

Through her sobs, she told me. I'm strong and I never cry! I've always been one of those strong, stoic asian women! But this.... I have never cried so much in my life. I beg his teachers to tell me what to do, what to say to him and I just cry.

It's okay to cry! You're the strongest woman I know! It's okay, this is hard.... Just think. He's talking now and he wasn't 2 years ago. He's made a lot of progress. Developmentally he's like a 3 year old now, right? He wants everything his way, it's the terrible 3s in an 8 year old body! It's hard that he's so big and behaving this way, but he's obviously learning and capable of learning and will learn to behave more appropriately. It's just going to be hell for awhile.

There wasn't much more to say. After a few minutes she started up the car and I helped guide her backwards down our skinny, unwieldy driveway. I could hear him kicking in the back seat.  As she put the car in drive and waved, she had already pulled herself together and had her public face back on. I understood the importance of keeping her pride and dignity intact and wasn't about to remind her to call me.

I blew her a kiss. Let's have lunch soon, I'll call you.

the best bid

I received word, the other morning, that the bank is deciding between 2 offers on the clapboard house.

One offer is a high bid, but on condition that the house closes within a short time. A lower bid - ours - gives no such condition. Furthermore, the high bid comes with less money down. Of course, if everything goes perfectly with the higher bid, everyone in the transaction gains. But it's a short sale that could drag on for awhile. Also, there is more pressure for the house to appraise at full value with the other buyers, which might be a tall order in this market....  I had already believed that we lost to the others, early last week, and had moved on. To receive word that we're still in the running was remarkable news to me.

And you know, on that note. I'm not always sure what is autism and what is my son. If a genie came along and granted my wish of banishing Belac's autism, who would he be? What would be left? Where would we  be? Somewhere necessarily better? I'm not so sure about that anymore.

Despite my son's challenges, we have a pretty good life. But it's also probably because of autism that we work harder, think more, plan better, enjoy the little things more, and focus on the important stuff more. Don't get me wrong. Thank your lucky stars if autism hasn't paid your home a visit. Autism adds a layer of stress and uncertainty to everything. But my point is, the highest bid is not always the best bid. I realize that it's possible, even with Belac's autism, that I've won - and am living - the best bid.

maybe

Had 5 boys at the house on Thursday. There was lunch and paint, sparring with light sabers, multiple kids plunking notes on the pianos and the occasional necessary interventions. Found poop in the living room. All the kids came running and the dog went hiding when I yelled his name. Sink backed up again, and I'm waiting on the plumber. A mom came by and we marveled at the relentless, heavy rain as the kids stopped for popsicles and blew bubbles in the kitchen. I noticed Belac had taped his still-drippy painting to the foyer wall. Hm. Could I live with it there? And by the way, is that paint washable?

Maybe I just like a little chaos? Tending to the needs and endearing foibles of little people? Gimky, look at this! Mom, he told me to shut up. Can we make jello? Gimky, he's annoying me! Gimky, I'm BORED!! Mom, there's nothing to do, can we please play on the wii?? Pleeeeeease?

I joked with my husband that the rental property had better come through for me to manage. Otherwise he'll never hear the end of me wanting to take kids in.

sweet boy

Belac attended a birthday party, yesterday, and my heart just sank when I saw how much he struggled to follow in the games. I ended up shadowing him because he was so obviously lost. I felt on display in front of all the parents, who sat on the sidelines, and protective of my son because he appeared feeble minded when that's obviously not the case. Some of the kids knew intuitively not to tag Belac 'out' in getting to first base of kickball. I saw a couple of kids whisper in each other's ears when Belac said some random things in attempt to make conversation. One boy straight out dismissed him. Belac didn't even know he wasn't fitting in. It just made me so, so sad.

"The kids love him and are so good to him," one mom said, trying to normalize things.

"They're really sweet," I agreed, smiling and trying to hide how much I hate this pity and the accommodations that were obviously necessary. A few years ago I would have been blinking back Niagra Falls. But today I was a proud person, holding head up high. It will always be so hard but I made myself smile despite my sinking heart.

Then we went to pick up Lily, who was coming over to have dinner and sleep over. If her parents had seen Belac at the birthday party, would they have so easily let her come over? The kids are usually at our house, not theirs. They haven't spent any meaningful time with Belac. What will happen when they realize the extent of Belac's challenges? They are so taken by his beautiful letters and drawings, which are admittedly exceptional. But what will happen when they finally have him over for dinner and see how hard (and impossible) it is for him to socialize like the others? To get through a meal without humming?

It was then remarkable to me how 'normal' our evening felt. Belac and Lily played ping pong against Jake downstairs. Belac and Lily drew pictures for each other, built a marble contraption and then played on the wii. We roasted marshmallows in the fireplace. Then I tucked them into bed. She on the bottom bunk and Belac on the top.

My husband and I hovered in the hallway, curiously listening for the next 30 minutes. We were both silent as we listened to this back and forth conversation about what they drew together in the clubhouse, their dogs, and the wii. There was a lot of laughing. I guess they really are the best friends they say they are. My husband pointed out, Belac is at his very best with her because he loves her and tries for her. He answers all of her questions. He tries to tell her funny and interesting things. My husband then went next door to babysit the neighbor's kids while I continued to listen and text him like mad.

L: Do you ever fight with your brother?
C: Sometimes. One time Jake had a stick and kept poking me with it.
L: I wish you were my brother.
C: Your brother?
L: Then you wouldn't cry everyday.
C: I don't like it when we don't say goodbye.
L: I know, me too.  What time is it?
C: 10-11.
L: Uh-oh. We should go to bed.
Silence.
L: I didn't fight with my brother today because you came and saved me from him.
C: Saved you?
L: Yes! I am going to miss you tomorrow because you are so sweet. You are such a sweet boy.
C: I might cry tomorrow.
L: Really?
C: But it will be tears of joy.
Silence. (My God, where did he learn that phrase?)
C: The first bad thing ever was that I hugged you without permission. The second bad thing is that I threw up in school. I hated it.
L: But you couldn't help throwing up. And it's good no one saw you.
C: Why?
L: Because it would be embarrassing.
C: I saw you cry before.
L: When?
C: I saw you cry 2 times. One time in line and the other time on the playground.
L: That's true. Because Belle was mean to me.
Silence.
L: Belac, was I ever mean to you?
C: No. You were never mean to me. And I was never mean to you.
L: You were never mean to me.
C: I love you!
L: I love you, too.

My husband texted me: I'm crying. Are you okay? I asked him on the phone.

I am, he told me sniffling. This made my year, he continued. One year ago we could never have imagined that he could make such a friend and show such love and depth.

I know. I was so upset by seeing Belac at the birthday party. There were kids half his age, participating without problems. He has real challenges and this is his reality. But for whatever his weaknesses, as Lily said, he is such a sweet, sweet boy. And that is also real. In the right circumstances and with the right people, he has so much to offer.

jinx!

My husband and I have spoken to no one about our bid. After notice of our accepted offer, I asked my husband if he was going to tell anyone. No, he told me, nothing is for sure and I don't want to jinx it. By then, I had already posted at my blog. And lo and behold, a few minutes after posting, the listing agent called to tell me that he had the makings of a bidding war. (So unethical! They accepted our offer in writing!)

And so I jinxed it.

My post from this morning came down immediately. I now refuse to say a word about it until we've either lost to another buyer or have closed on the house. Same with our inquiry to adopt foster kids or more pups. Mum is the word.

bid

We made an offer on the clapboard house, late Friday night. The owners and bank had already been mulling over 2 other offers all week. The listing agent called me everyday. Are you in? are you out? hurry up already! But my husband and I just needed to discuss and review our numbers.

What are our chances? I seriously have no idea. We saw the house without an agent, saving the seller 2% in fees. I also wrote a nice note to accompany our offer. But it doesn't change the fact that we didn't offer full-asking on an already drastically underpriced house. There may be other hangups, too, because our purchase would be an investment one. Who knows what kind of bidding war is in the brewing.

I hope we have a chance and can purchase this house, but surprisingly, how I feel has less to do with the outcome and much more with the act of just trying. What I realize ultimately that has saved us from autism, day to day, is our active effort to try to improve our situation. Doesn't mean that autism has gone away or that we're always successful or that things are not stressful as hell sometimes, but autism is not going to get the best of us. It will not be the guiding force in our lives. It's a decision. Nothing is more depressing than yakking and worrying while doing nothing. Figuring out how to improve by making informed decisions and trying, even against all odds, is empowering. It's important to try. Just try!

personalizing

My brother-in-law and his wife are walking for the Autism Speaks event in Montreal, tomorrow. I always make donations when people walk, run or bike for a cause. I have opened my wallet for Breast Cancer, Leukemia/Lymphoma, MS, Cancer Survivorship.... But believe it or not, this is the first time I have made a donation for Autism.

I sat at the donation page for longer than usual, wondering how much I should donate. This one hits a little closer to home, right? So it should be more? I called my husband, what do you think it should be? He paused and gave me a respectable number. What were you thinking, he asked. Well, honestly...? Double that.

I thought about my brother-in-law's friends who they are walking with. Their son is autistic. The father is a post doc and makes something like $25,000 a year for a family of 4. Without financial resources they had no choice but to wait for the public option. He finally entered into a program this past year. If I remember correctly, he's 6 years old and doesn't talk. When the child was first diagnosed, my brother-in-law's wife arranged a meeting between us and the child's parents to talk about services and what he might need based on our experience with Belac. It was then that I realized how much longer the wait time is in Canada for services. All I could think was what a crying shame it was that during their previous year in Boston, the child hadn't been diagnosed and begun services. The parents hadn't known what was available and they were foreigners, to complicate matters.

Are you okay with my number? I asked. Fine, my husband responded.

Later, my BIL asked if he could mention Belac in his solicitation for the Autism Speaks charity walk at his Facebook page.

Absolutely not. Thx. I shot back right away.

Following up with. Sorry for my bluntness. It is something I never discuss with people I don't know and the info only benefits people who are not Belac.

Meanwhile, I went to check on my BIL's facebook profile, where someone had already made a stupid remark:

"Wait. I don't get it. Autistic people can walk, can't they?? People are so lazy these days!"

It made my blood boil. I commented:  Hey there! If you attend the event you will see that most participants are autistic people and their families. Autistic people and their families are some of the most unlazy people I know.

Then I looked closely at the person who commented, who had a nonsensical pseudonym. I studied his photo and realized that I had met this guy many times before and that he had even spent some holidays with my husband's family. I then deleted my own comment.

My BIL replied to my email: No worries at all. and I didn't mean to be insensitive or anything. I made no reference to Belac on my posting. I understand and didn't mean to upset you.

I responded: No, you are not insensitive at all and I tend to be way too sensitive as you know! :P I should not have written that response to the stupid comment. I realized afterwards it was Twitty. I'm sure he meant nothing by it and was being ironic but you know, it was another of my knee jerk reactions. Anyway, thanks for asking beforehand, I appreciate it. Have fun at the walk!

BIL: No, you are not in any way wrong about Twitty. He's an idiot in that way and I privately asked him to take down the comment already.

The point I'm getting to is this. Twitty would never have written such a remark if my BIL wrote something about Belac when posting about this charity event. Twitty would have remembered or thought twice because it wouldn't be just another plea for money for another thing that doesn't effect him. And my BIL would likely raise more money, too! There are certainly benefits to personal disclosure.

But as much as I want to help a cause that hits so closely to him, I will forever oppose using Belac as a poster child. None of us, mostly him, would benefit from this extra attention. I want him and our whole family to have a chance to live up to our own 'normal' and we just can't with slapped on labels and the extra and unwanted scrutiny of others. I do not want to be forced into conversations about autism with people, who could never possibly understand or, for whatever reason, hang on passionately to their unscientific truths. I don't want the burden of walking on the tightrope. We - as a community - are so fractured and cannot agree on anything, to the degree that I don't identify with autism groups as serving our own particular needs or agenda. I'll have none of that circus, please. My most useful contribution comes in the form of an anonymous donation. For me, it suffices. No strings attached.

the little bee that could

It is spelling week at the kids' school.

Yesterday, each of the six 2nd grade classes had a spelling bee to determine who would represent each class. A remarkable thing happened. Belac was runner-up for his class! There are 21 kids in his class and it came down to Belac and another little boy. There were apparently 5 or 6 rounds with just the two of them before Belac missed a word. His aide told me that there was no extra prompting involved nor any adult physically at Belac's side, so it was just Belac and another boy standing. There were other teachers watching and apparently, at this point, they raised eyebrows at each other, wondering if Belac - of all kids - was going to end up representing the class.

I know it's just spelling and no one needs to spell anymore these days. And given Belac's acute memory for dates, letters and all that is concrete, his spelling ability does not exactly surprise me. But upon hearing a report like this, I have no choice but to recognize that he's come such a long, long way.  I would have been content to know that Belac was simply up on stage by himself, like the rest of the kids, and that he made it through a few rounds. But to find out that Belac had held his own, enough to be one of the last kids remaining, was something I never dared to imagine. This kid never ceases to both amaze me and drive me crazy. I thank my lucky stars!

PS - I went to pick up, only to have a mom call me from across the playground. She had heard about Belac's performance at the spelling bee. Told me her son had been studying all week for the spelling bee and when he was eliminated, apparently was jumping up and down and rooting for Belac. (I didn't say, but I had not known there was going to be a spelling bee and so Belac did not study.) The mom asked Matt, is Belac really good at spelling? Apparently Matt responded, he's amazing at spelling. I really like this mom a lot and we've had her son over plenty of times to play while we've sat with tea. They have never had Belac over, which over time I have found curious. Maybe there is a perfectly good reason, I'd never in a million years ask, but I wonder if this changes anything.

two amazing families

Thiel Family

Mitchell Family

the clapboard house

Met up with Dom at the house, yesterday. It was absolutely charming, squeaky clean and well kept! On our way out, we met the wife. She was a sweet-looking, 60ish year old with a very thick Italian accent, the kind of person you want to hug hello. I told her what a beautiful home she has.

I love it, too!  Do I know you? she asked as she shook my hand, you look very familiar.

I don't know. I'm your neighbor down the street, I offered. My kids are at the school and I walk my dog everywhere....  Is this a rose bush? I've never seen such a huge, gorgeous rose bush!

I know! People stop to take pictures all of the time. They say I have a - what do you call it - a green thumb!

You do!

She proudly introduced the other plantings in the yard and then bit her fingernail. I'm going to miss it.

I can see why. Well, I continued haltingly, we'll be in touch with Dom about the house. Good luck!

Yes, she smiled, again looking directly into my eyes as if searching for recognition. Good luck to you, too!

Their house is a short sale. The couple tried to sell it several years ago for much more. Then they got themselves into some 'trouble.' I am told the husband is now in need of surgery and they are desperate to get out. I'm also told that a contractual agreement fell apart, a few months ago, after the potential buyer brought a feng shui expert late in the game, who said the entire house was oriented 90 degrees in the wrong direction. The buyers withdrew and forfeited their deposit. What craziness!

After seeing the house, my husband and I went to dinner to celebrate our 11th anniversary.

Gimky, what do you think would have happened if we saw this house last year? Would we have chosen to live there?

At this price it would have given us considerable pause, don't you think? But could we have lived with the less than 7 foot ceilings on the main floor? I don't know. Would we be okay with never raising the lid to the piano?

Okay, that would be a problem! he chuckled. And there would be no room to host Thanksgiving.

No room at all. At the very least, everyone would have to be in a hotel.... But at this price we would have thought long and hard about it. The yard is adorable!

The house as a rental is still not cheap enough for comfort in the short term. In 10 years it will be worth more and an asset to sell for the kids' college, but for the next few years we'd have to be comfortable with not much return and further brace ourselves if things don't go smoothly. (dum-dee-dum... I hear in my head) One thing is for sure. We agree the right thing to do is to cash out my husband's company stock, which we view as unstable over both the short and long term. But where to put this chunk of change so it is safe and could grow to help us with the kids' future? Food for thought.

hot

Lily (Belac's friend) and Joe (Jake's friend) came for play dates after school and stayed for dinner.

During a lull, I took Jake and Joe aside. Guys, I want to tell you something. It's really important that you try your best in school. Really important. Joe, if Jake is not behaving properly I expect you to speak up. Jake, same for Joe. You have to help each other do the right things and keep each other in check. Neither of you are to become slackers and waste your brains. Got it? Neither of you!!

Got it.

So Joe. Did you finish your book report yet?

No.

When are you going to get it done?

Monday.

But it's due on Wednesday.

Well I don't really have time this week end.

Well make time! You have to make time. A little every day. Tomorrow you should write your paragraphs. Sunday, do the craft. Then on Monday and Tuesday you can fix up both parts. 1 hour a day, Joe. That's all you need. 1 hour a day!!

I'm worried about him. And I worry about Jake wanting to be with him so much.

As Belac and I walked Lily home, I asked her how she liked her new house. Well, she told me. I don't like it as much as our old house. Our old house was cozy. We don't have many kids, just 3. The new house is big and not as cozy.

Interesting! Belac likes our old house better too. Don't you Belac?  He talks all the time about going back to live in the little place we rented last year. His bedroom was tiny, just enough space for a twin bed and a little dresser, but he always tells me he wishes he could be in that bright, sunny room again.

Now I have been summoned to the guest room, where my husband and I just installed a window ac after the kids went to bed. Jake asked me to sit until he fell asleep again.The boys have been sleeping together in this very small room for the past 3 months, while their own bedrooms have remained largely unoccupied. I find it sweet, actually. My husband said to me, tonight. Yes, sweet, but wild! We're living in a 4 bedroom house but occupying just 2 bedrooms. We might as well be in an apartment again!

My boys in the guest room, that's their cozy.

4 plus ?

On and off, I have thought about adopting another child. Once upon a time, I thought we could adopt a baby girl from China. This was even after Belac's diagnosis. But my husband vetoed the idea, thinking we could not handle it at the time. We also could not be guaranteed that she would not eventually have special needs. Adopting a pup was the safer choice.

Now we have been in Sunny Patch for 2 years and we're more settled. We're lucky to live in a good school district with good services and we've gotten to know people. The school has been especially attentive to Belac and he has blossomed. After a rather difficult period of adjustment for Jake, he has made some good buddies. The boys are happy. And again, the feeling of wanting to share has come to nag me. There are so many kids out there who need a family and a chance. And well, maybe we could offer that.

The other day, I read about a brother-sister pair in foster care, waiting for adoption. I've read a lot of profiles over the years, but their story and picture really tugged at me. I gingerly told my husband about them. He listened quietly. Gimky, it's compelling and I can see how we could provide a home and stability for these kids. But let's just think about this realistically. How can we possibly afford to send 4 kids to college? And could we really love two more as our own? They're not exactly young kids. Could they really identify us as mom and dad and could we identify them as being ours?

Read their profile. What these kids need more than anything is a stable home and parents to love and protect them. We could offer that. Look at the boy. He's been taking care of his sister and he's just 14 years old. For at least 4 more years of his childhood, we could give him the gift of a family and a chance. We could lighten his burden. The girl is 13, shy apparently, but dances. Imagine, they only have each other. We have a lot to offer them.

Gimky, we don't know what trauma these kids have seen or experienced or if we can help them succeed. Could they be left alone with the boys? What if they're prone to violence? What if it's too late and we can't save them? It could turn out badly. My friend's adopted brother committed suicide at 18, you know. It's so risky, Gimky!

And then I remembered my violin teacher's story. His son had already suffered a very traumatic childhood by 7, when they adopted him. (Two of their four children were adopted.) My teacher and his wife, devout Christians and people with resources, tried everything to help him and to show him that he mattered and was loved, but the boy could not be convinced. As a young adult, he died of a drug overdose.

True, I agreed, it's risky. But there's a chance of amazing, too. We can offer what these kids are explicitly asking for and need. It's a chance to make a difference. My understanding is that the older kids up for adoption understand their situation better than the younger ones. They really want to make it work, knowing that their chances for adoption become slimmer as they age. Our boys would be lucky to have older siblings. They would learn something from sharing their family and they'd gain a whole other valuable perspective....

We sat in silence for a few minutes.

So let's find out more about their story.

Okay, then. I found myself smiling. My husband is an amazing human being!

a beautiful story

http://www.adoptivefamilies.com/articles.php?aid=1414

influences

I spent the morning volunteering for the school's field day today. I got to check out Jake's ongoings out of the corner of my eye for several hours. There were things I both liked and really didn't like about what I saw. And it ultimately led to an interesting and involved heart to heart this afternoon.

I told Jake that not all friends are equal and that it is important for him to try to surround himself with kids that will help him be a better person.

He didn't really understand and we spoke more specifically.

You know who helps me be a better person? Audrey's mom. She works so hard and wants to be good at everything she does. She's very critical but always looks on the bright side and I can trust her about anything. She helps me try to do my best. There's Olivia, too. She always thinks I can do anything I set my mind on. She really cares and thinks about the details. And even though she plays the violin much better than I play the piano, I'm happy for her when she does well. And that's because we want the best for each other. True friends want you to do well and be happy.

So who are the bad friends?

Well, there are other people that maybe aren't as good influences on me. Maybe they complain a lot, or they're negative, or they care too much about looking a certain way, or gossip and put others down to make themselves feel better. And even if they're perfectly nice and friendly, they don't really help me be the best I can be.

Who are they?

It doesn't matter, Jake. I just want you to look around you and notice the people that are nice to others and work hard and I want you to stick close to them. If someone is influencing you to goof off all the time, or doesn't care about school and is often getting themselves into trouble or has a bad attitude, it just makes it so much harder for you to do the right thing.... You only get to live this life once. Once. So it's important to try to do your best and to behave in a way you can be proud of.

My husband - still at work - and I had a long talk this afternoon. He wonders if the house we're living in is a big mistake and if it doesn't send the wrong message to our kids. Maybe we should move to a smaller house and strip the house down to the barest necessities, he thought aloud. Make the kids hungry to work harder and be more appreciative... or maybe we should just stay put and take in a couple of orphans, I didn't say. My point is. My parents, my husband's parents. They had all to gain. They had no resources except their own and no one to rely on and so they were hungry to do. This generation, my husband and me, and now my own kids, have the all-to-lose mentality. We have oodles more security than our own parents at this age, but what really are we doing with it in the bigger picture? Maybe we are too comfortable for our own good.

Taps

My husband and I have been talking about how to save, make the most of our money, and prepare for the future. Sure, I clean my own house. I weeded 8 hours in the last few days instead of hiring help. I wear my clothes to death and never buy anything unless we absolutely need it. I tend to be very frugal. But let's just be real, keeping money in our purse is not going to be enough to send our kids to college. We have to figure out how to grow our money.

It's like my business of music class I took while at Juilliard. The music director of the National Symphony Orchestra came to talk. He urged us. You're making a big mistake if you spend these days simply chained to your instrument. For every 3 hours you practice, you should spend at least 1 hour figuring out how you're going to make a living in music....

So one of the ideas I keep coming back to is purchasing residential real estate to rent out. My immigrant parents did this, despite their modest means, and it was what helped get my sisters and I through college. They had no other resources to rely on and my sisters and I each had school loans, anyway, but they figured out how to pay for a lot of our education, reducing our financial burdens to come.

So these past 6 months, as I've been looking forward to the future, I have been looking for just the right deal. A small 3 BR, 2 BA house in very good condition, located in an excellent school district, on the smallest property possible, with cheap taxes and a cheap enough price tag to make such a venture financially viable for us. I could never find anything cheap enough or nice enough, though. The numbers just never made sense. That is, until a few days ago. One languishing property I've had my eye on, drastically dropped their price and just enough to be almost something worth considering. The house is well located, nice enough and now almost cheap enough, that we could offer it up for rent at a price that would be an attractive (and less risky) alternative for someone looking to buy something similar. I have been driving my husband a little crazy ever since the price drop because I keep talking about this house and everything I've been learning on the internet about short sales, foreclosures and mortgages.... Maybe I'm meant to be in real estate after all.

Obviously, my husband is nervous. Buying this house in distress would involve cashing out his company stock for a down payment. We don't have a lot of extra in case things go afoul. But for whatever reason, I am more confident. I feel it's very reasonable and possible to rent out the house with our projected numbers. People are generally afraid of buying, these days, but they still need to educate their kids and want to live with a little more space and a small sliver of green if they can. I am also more focused on the 10 year plan and less on the annual return as long as we have a cushion of several percentage points each year. I am thinking that in 8-10 years, we could have an asset to sell or leverage for the kids' college or to help out with potential extra expenses for Belac.

We are actually going to look at this house, which is in itself quite remarkable because my husband is extremely risk averse and financially conservative. The numbers, pictures, and a drive by were compelling enough, though, that my skeptical husband is going to come with me to have a look at the inside. I made an appointment with the listing agent, who I happen to be quite friendly with. He showed us the house we rented, last year. Who knows what will happen? But I have a feeling this will be one of those investments that falls into one of four extreme categories, a.k.a. the best or worst thing we did or didn't do. The only thing is this. I have to figure out a suitable tune for the address! Because right now, the numbers sound the opening of the Taps (and conjure up the image of a cartoon character waving a white flag.)  dum - dee - dum.... 

a moment

Jake went to a party at his friend's over the weekend. My husband and Jake were out back with the other kids but found themselves immediately drawn to the fence, peering at our old house and its backyard. I used to live there, Jake said to my husband. My husband looked on, too. He told me that it looked so much the same and just like it was ours, like not a day had passed, and yet it felt overwhelmingly strange because it was so off limits to us.

I'm so glad that it was my husband who brought Jake to the party. Just hearing about that moment and remembering the feeling of being back there and looking for my boys high up in the trees made me deeply wistful. I will always miss that yard, the sweetest sanctuary!

summer

Waiting on my visiting sister and her boyfriend, coming home from the city to have dinner with us. Waiting on my childhood friend, on her way from CT with her family. Jake went to the birthday party of a boy he describes as his 'best friend,' our next door neighbor when we were at the house with the hill. My husband and Belac went for a long bike ride. I spent the afternoon cleaning and preparing dinner, and am now sipping a glass of wine.

Happiness!

roof

The roof was originally supposed to be finished on Friday, May 13. Then there was rot. Then rain. Then it was supposed to be finished this past Monday, then Tuesday. On Thursday night, they told me they still needed a few more hours on Friday. Got home at 11:30a only to see they are still not finished.

The crew head and I talked while looking at the house together. It doesn't exactly have 4 corners, does it? I asked.

He laughed. If it had just 4 corners, we would have finished in like a day! It was A LOT of work. I never saw anything like this, actually. And after a little silence added, but for a complicated roof like this, it looks good to have these aluminum shingles.

There are - no joke - 11 corners, 6 dormers, 5 peaks and numerous valleys to this asymmetrical house. The job has involved a lot of cutting and measuring, end pieces, and special protection in the valleys. 

The other day, I ran into Chris, the former owner of the house. She was walking past with her dog and had stopped to watch the roofers. We chatted a little. I don't know how it happened, but she admitted that she hadn't really unpacked in her apartment. I've become friendly with her best friend down the street, and I wonder if that made her sad, too. As we parted ways, she told me. I ultimately left because of that roof. I knew what was involved and just couldn't begin to touch it. You're a smart cookie! I told her. Let me tell you...  

Are you happy, though? she asked. I had a lot of fond memories in that house. Really fond memories, she repeated, now looking away. Yes, we are, I answered gingerly. And I have to thank you for letting us buy the house from you. There's definitely a good vibe in the house because you and your girls were there.

This morning, I helped run a nursery school graduation. The Father said to the parents, enjoy your beautiful children because there's not enough time. I feel that way. I would love to remain in June 2011 forever. All of us under one roof and doing okay at the moment, and my kids, still hopeful and naive, with their whole futures ahead of them. Yes, enjoy the moment. Particularly easy to say when all is good. But for me - with both boys being a little older and having been through stuff - I would have added, and look forward with hope. 

maintenance

I woke up this morning to notice clothes and things strewn about in every room. Didn't I just do a massive clean up, last week? Walking home from school, this morning, I noticed weeds - knee high - taking over our front yard of pachysandra. Not exactly the kind of thing that you can just mow over and be done with. Didn't we just spend a ton of dough, last year, taking down the dying trees and pulling up waist-high weeds and poison ivy that had begun to wrap itself around the house? How dare this stuff grow back!

Nothing is ever finito, I realize. As in life and relationships, everything needs maintenance or it becomes undone yet again. Some things require a lot of effort.... All I can say is, even though I can't always tell the difference between a weed or plant, I like weeding. This weekend I'm declaring war! It's me vs. the weeds.

Inclusion in NYC

Thanks to my friend, Accidental Expert, for sharing this detailed article about an inclusion program in NYC.

https://sfari.org/news/-/asset_publisher/6Tog/content/new-york-program-fulfills-promise-of-inclusive-education

For all the flack you hear about NYC public schools, this is an incredible and ambitious project. The esteemed Catherine Lord of the Autism Center at University of Michigan even called it the most effective inclusion program she had ever seen. These high functioning kids are generally doing as well as - if not better than - their peers in testing. There was even a National Merit Scholar among them.

Two things I learned:

I was disheartened to read that there is currently a 12% employment rate among this group. I really need to make sure that Belac learns to become more independent and adaptable to his environment. He needs to focus in on the things that are his strengths as it applies to practical living.

I am awed by how this program began. Time and time again, I hear about amazing schools and programs founded by families with few options but incredible passion. It's so inspirational! I want to be the one lighting a candle, too, and not cursing the darkness.

to NYU or not

Today is the application deadline for my second summer of a certification course at NYU. I don't know why I waited so long to deal with it, but I did. And even now I'm procrastinating. Instead of taking care of it before I teach, I've decided to do it afterwards. Later. Sometime before dinner. But technically I have until midnight, right?

I did have a fascinating experience, last summer. I met fellow music teachers from all around the world. They were instrumentalists and singers, had students of all ages, and were from public, private and charter schools. For weeks, I conducted, accompanied, sang, solfeged, and danced. I learned about world music and pedagogy. I taught lessons while being observed by my peers.... But overwhelmingly, the greatest things I took away from this NYU experience had nothing at all to do with what I learned in the classes. It had all to do with my interactions with a professor and a student.

One of the professors at NYU had also interviewed me for a job at a special needs school, a couple of weeks before the the summer course began. It happened to be a school that I was completely taken by, and a place I would send Belac if I had that kind of serious coin. By the first day at NYU, I already knew that I didn't get the job and was still so disappointed. The professor pulled me aside early on and told me that the school had really liked me and had really been on the fence with me. It wasn't an easy decision, she said. If they had been looking to straight out replace her, they would have apparently hired me hands down. But the school was not looking to replace this professor, they were looking to hire an additional music teacher for the growing school. And so there was this other candidate, who had come with a hand puppet and told stories to the kids, and they thought that her approach would be more complementary to the professor's more academic goals. Choosing the other candidate made a lot of sense and I was glad to know why.

On the last day of the program, this same professor - who had taught 3 of my courses - hugged me tight. She said. I'm going to miss you and loved getting to know you. Those few conversations we had about my son really helped me, she told me, you get it and not many do. And then she shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, saying, I told my colleague (at the special needs school) that I had gotten to know you this summer and that you're wonderful! And that I hoped we made the right decision....

So a year has passed and I'm no more closer to my goal. The thing I really want to do is so specific and within such strict time constraints. Really? Spend all this money for more courses over a career that may never come to fruition? I already have way too many degrees and education under my belt that I'm not exactly using. And look at this gal with the puppet. She didn't get the job because of her education and accreditations, because if it mattered that much they would have chosen me. This woman was creative. She took a chance, bringing that puppet, and it worked. What a brilliant idea! She went with her strengths and lucky for her (and for the kids), a match was made.

The student I will write about another day. It's an incredible story, actually.