I dashed to the craft store on my way home from teaching and roamed the aisles. Jake had already told everyone he was going to be an Oreo cookie for Halloween and I only had some vague idea of how to do it. I found two foam wreaths that would work for the cookies, but the store had no more black or brown paint, and they were really running low on everything. I was late to the game.
After the kids went to bed, I poured myself a glass of wine, cranked up some music and started. It's not as easy as it sounds. Have you seen what an Oreo cookie looks like?
You know, every now and then, you read about or meet a parent who gives their kids everything under the sun. Then, not surprisingly, you find out that the parent grew up poor and didn't have much. But now, in giving their own kids everything that they didn't have as kids, they risk creating a much bigger problem. They might be grooming a generation of spoiled brats....
And in this vein, I think about my own kids, who are living a vastly different childhood than mine. In very important ways, especially because of Belac's challenges, it is absolutely necessary. In a lot of ways, it's a positive thing. But is it sometimes too much? Will my kids grow up expecting their mom to do everything for them? Will they become as independent as I did? I just don't know....
I do know that it's not over the top to get up in the mornings when I expect my own kids to get up. It's what a parent should do. But is staying up until 1:30am to make a Halloween costume for your kid, normal? How about something as little (or big) as packing my kids' lunch, every day? They want it, so I do it. But is this indulgent? My own mom never made me lunch, so this feels a bit extreme. Every now and then, I find myself asking another parent, how often do you pack your kid's lunch?
It's easy for people to say, just do what feels right, follow your instincts. Or, everything in moderation. But I don't always know what feels right or trust my instincts. I didn't grow up with moderation, so I don't know what it really looks or feels like. And then, to boot, I have one kid who needs so much encouragement and another, who needs so much engagement. I am good at figuring out what to do, but it's often confusing for me to know how much is okay. Knowing what's enough, not enough, healthy, or excessive often alludes me. And honestly, I feel like I'm winging it, every single day.
This morning, Jake came down for breakfast. I saw his astonished face to see the oreo cookies. Wow, mom! This is so good...! he said, touching it and not taking his eyes from it. I smiled. Do you want to try it on? I showed him how to adjust the straps. I showed him why I thought one cookie was better than the other, and he just kept standing in front of the mirror, speechless and looking at himself.
Okay! So maybe this was over the top, but we were also both standing there and so happy. Losing a little sleep over this Oreo costume just cannot be a bad thing and I would do it again in a heartbeat.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Thursday, October 27, 2011
what matters
I'm lucky that I get a lot of time with the kids.
Belac has speech and reading help before school begins, 3 days a week. Jake has Band and PE before school begins, also 3 days a week. Everyday, I have either one or both boys at school by 7:45am and the occasional half hour at home with just one. That time is special.
Today, while I brought Belac to school, Jake reviewed for a Science quiz tomorrow. I quizzed him when I got home and he deadpanned a few absurd definitions when he couldn't remember. He corrected a math problem. As he packed up, he told me that he couldn't find his science book at school. We talked about it and what he should do.... As I sent him out the door with an umbrella, we noticed all of the scooters and bikes laying out in the pouring rain. Should I clean it up? he asked me. Did I just hear correctly? Don't worry, I'll do it, I told him.
Everyone is so hyper-concerned about their kid getting into honors classes and doing super well. And I get it. I would love for Jake to be in those classes, too. But honestly, I am more concerned about Jake just keeping up academically and learning to be disciplined about his responsibilities. Getting in the habit of starting projects early, caring about the quality of his work, reviewing a little in the morning when he can.... You know what? Yesterday, Izzy came home with us. I had all the kids at the dining room table doing their work. I noticed that Belac had check-pluses and perfect scores on his work he brought home. Izzy's grades were not so perfect. But what does that REALLY mean...? The thing is, you have this charming, articulate, helpful, athletic girl who is totally happy and easygoing and who is good "enough" at school. And in so many ways, maybe in most ways, she's going to be better off than Belac. At least I think life will be easier for her and easier for her to navigate. She'll have plenty of friends to rely on. Grades count for something, but they're only a little part of the entire picture....
That Jake asked me what he should do about the missing science book, that he made fun of and tried to wing what he didn't know, that he offered to put away all the things he and the other kids forgot on the driveway, even though it was pouring and he was going to be late.... That kind of stuff is so much more important than any A. Not exactly braggable, quantifiable material in the typical Westchester parent kind of way, but it's what I believe truly matters.
Belac has speech and reading help before school begins, 3 days a week. Jake has Band and PE before school begins, also 3 days a week. Everyday, I have either one or both boys at school by 7:45am and the occasional half hour at home with just one. That time is special.
Today, while I brought Belac to school, Jake reviewed for a Science quiz tomorrow. I quizzed him when I got home and he deadpanned a few absurd definitions when he couldn't remember. He corrected a math problem. As he packed up, he told me that he couldn't find his science book at school. We talked about it and what he should do.... As I sent him out the door with an umbrella, we noticed all of the scooters and bikes laying out in the pouring rain. Should I clean it up? he asked me. Did I just hear correctly? Don't worry, I'll do it, I told him.
Everyone is so hyper-concerned about their kid getting into honors classes and doing super well. And I get it. I would love for Jake to be in those classes, too. But honestly, I am more concerned about Jake just keeping up academically and learning to be disciplined about his responsibilities. Getting in the habit of starting projects early, caring about the quality of his work, reviewing a little in the morning when he can.... You know what? Yesterday, Izzy came home with us. I had all the kids at the dining room table doing their work. I noticed that Belac had check-pluses and perfect scores on his work he brought home. Izzy's grades were not so perfect. But what does that REALLY mean...? The thing is, you have this charming, articulate, helpful, athletic girl who is totally happy and easygoing and who is good "enough" at school. And in so many ways, maybe in most ways, she's going to be better off than Belac. At least I think life will be easier for her and easier for her to navigate. She'll have plenty of friends to rely on. Grades count for something, but they're only a little part of the entire picture....
That Jake asked me what he should do about the missing science book, that he made fun of and tried to wing what he didn't know, that he offered to put away all the things he and the other kids forgot on the driveway, even though it was pouring and he was going to be late.... That kind of stuff is so much more important than any A. Not exactly braggable, quantifiable material in the typical Westchester parent kind of way, but it's what I believe truly matters.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Ella
One sister never read me to begin with and the other rarely stops by. We talk a lot anyway. My husband doesn't know what goes on here, either. But again, we talk. I know my brother-in-law and his wife found me by accident, and when confronted about it, they casually told me they check in now and again and not much more. I think Allie may be reading me in secret at this point.... But there is one person in my real life who so consistently and openly reads me here and it is Ella.
And today she came to White Plains to see about a school for her son. He spent the morning, visiting, and I whisked her away for breakfast and we chattered non-stop. Look at that empty storefront! I pointed across the street in downtown White Plains. It's so much bigger than what you have in Manhattan for probably the same price. Just move here, please? Your kids will be all set and you don't have to worry about all that crazy getting into middle school and high school stuff.... Just come already!!
Oy! It's such a problem you came to Westchester, today, and teased me with your presence. I am so working on you Ella!
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
appearances
I have a steady stream of pianists, violinists and a singer coming 4 times a week, this year. It means that the house has to be presentable on those 4 days and let me tell you, what a chore. The families are anywhere on the first floor. I can't have bills out or the kids' dirty socks all over the place, and the kitchen is especially a time-consuming task. I cook, we eat and do homework in the kitchen and it's like starting over with a messy, greasy kitchen, everyday. It's also a dated and well-worn place, which means it never feels entirely clean even in it's perfect state.
I dislike cleaning but have to if I'm going to teach from home and charge the pretty penny I do. And now 6 weeks into the school year, I seriously have the cleaning down to a science. I can get the whole 1st floor together in less than an hour. And you know how? I'll tell you.
1) Get rid of anything that you don't need or use. Seriously. I don't keep knick knacks or store anything on any counters or tables so I can wipe everything down fast. I am ruthless when it comes to clutter and this is seriously the hugest time saver ever.
2) I stand over the recycle bin when I open all the mail. I only keep the bills or anything important, chucking junk and all the envelopes before it comes in the house. I do the same with the kids' folders. Again, anything to keep stuff from even entering the house is imperative.
3) I use a duster mop to sweep everywhere, then a little hand brush and dustpan to chuck it all in the trash. It's really fast and does the job. Forget the vacuum cleaner and broom, this works much better. I don't have rugs or carpet anymore so I'm lucky I can get away with this....
4) In the kitchen I always have to mop before lessons. There are families who choose to sit in there and the floor is blue ceramic and always dirty. I spray a little cleaner on the grimy spots and then plug in this amazing Shark deluxe steam mop that heats up fast. In just a few minutes, the floor is squeaky clean and takes less than 10 minutes to dry. That mop seriously saves me so much time and hassle and I love it. It's the best money I ever spent on a cleaning thing.
5) I keep duplicate supplies in each bathroom. When I happen to be in a bathroom and have a few minutes, I wipe it all down.
So there you go! But whatever you do, don't go upstairs.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Apple of my eye
Listened to friends describe the new house they're trying to buy. It has 6 bedrooms for their family of 4. They proclaimed it the last house they will live in until death. They explained that it needed to be big enough for all of their grandchildren, despite their own kids being just 10 and 14 years old, today. Then there were the not so casual comments about their kids in gifted programs and honors classes. That we were now about to eat at a restaurant they once thought was so expensive and for special occasions only. Well, the wife said, your salary has tripled since we moved here 12 years ago. Tripled? the husband mused, I think it might have quadrupled, let me think about it....
Why are we friends with these people? Were they always this way? Were we ever this way? The evening was going to be painful. I scanned the menu. Well, guys, I let myself quip, this is clearly a special occasion restaurant for us.... as in, get it? You win! So please, please just stop.
Don't get me wrong, our own life is far from shabby. But our perspective and priorities, since our boys were in nursery school together, have increasingly drifted worlds and worlds apart. What was so apparent, last night, is that our friends have really not suffered for anything and they have become quite proud of themselves. It's great to think positively, but it's the smug and presumptuous talk that I can't stand. The more they yacked, the quieter I became. Nice, I murmured. That's great, my husband dutifully agreed. But all I could think was. What if one of you becomes sick? or loses a job? Or if things don't go exactly as planned with one or both of your kids? I never make assumptions about happily ever after anymore and you know what? I'm probably the happiest I've ever been....
If only they knew what I've been talking about with my husband. You see, I have plans for our future, too. Except that it involves only hoping for the best while totally preparing for the worst. It involves down-sizing and a house the dog and I walk past everyday. It's close to town and on a quiet street, an unassuming, sweet-looking, side-by-side multi-family with a detached garage apartment.
Living in such a place would mean that Belac could one day have his independence in the familiar surroundings of his childhood, while still having me or my husband next door to teach and help him. It means that it doesn't matter if he learns to drive or not because the grocery store, dentist, train and everything else is all within very easy walking distance. It means that instead of boarding at school, Jake could save money and commute from his own place if he attends college in the city. It means that if my husband ever lost or quit his job, we'd still have rental income to help out with expenses. And if Belac never gets it together to hold down a job or one that pays well enough, especially after I'm gone, there is probably enough income from the 2 other units to cover the expenses on the entire house. Jake could come back to Sunny Patch if he wanted, even with a small brood. The house could accomodate the changing needs of both brothers, not just the one.
Where we live now is perfectly nice, but not a home for the future. This is a temporary stop and I don't want to be living here when the kids are adults. I told my husband. If one day you come home and find a For Sale sign on the front lawn, even if it's tomorrow, you'll know that the house on Apple went on the market. By the way, the place is blessed with a brilliant address that makes me smile! I wouldn't be surprised if the house never goes up for sale. Still, I will do everything I can to eventually move us into such a place.
Why are we friends with these people? Were they always this way? Were we ever this way? The evening was going to be painful. I scanned the menu. Well, guys, I let myself quip, this is clearly a special occasion restaurant for us.... as in, get it? You win! So please, please just stop.
Don't get me wrong, our own life is far from shabby. But our perspective and priorities, since our boys were in nursery school together, have increasingly drifted worlds and worlds apart. What was so apparent, last night, is that our friends have really not suffered for anything and they have become quite proud of themselves. It's great to think positively, but it's the smug and presumptuous talk that I can't stand. The more they yacked, the quieter I became. Nice, I murmured. That's great, my husband dutifully agreed. But all I could think was. What if one of you becomes sick? or loses a job? Or if things don't go exactly as planned with one or both of your kids? I never make assumptions about happily ever after anymore and you know what? I'm probably the happiest I've ever been....
If only they knew what I've been talking about with my husband. You see, I have plans for our future, too. Except that it involves only hoping for the best while totally preparing for the worst. It involves down-sizing and a house the dog and I walk past everyday. It's close to town and on a quiet street, an unassuming, sweet-looking, side-by-side multi-family with a detached garage apartment.
Living in such a place would mean that Belac could one day have his independence in the familiar surroundings of his childhood, while still having me or my husband next door to teach and help him. It means that it doesn't matter if he learns to drive or not because the grocery store, dentist, train and everything else is all within very easy walking distance. It means that instead of boarding at school, Jake could save money and commute from his own place if he attends college in the city. It means that if my husband ever lost or quit his job, we'd still have rental income to help out with expenses. And if Belac never gets it together to hold down a job or one that pays well enough, especially after I'm gone, there is probably enough income from the 2 other units to cover the expenses on the entire house. Jake could come back to Sunny Patch if he wanted, even with a small brood. The house could accomodate the changing needs of both brothers, not just the one.
Where we live now is perfectly nice, but not a home for the future. This is a temporary stop and I don't want to be living here when the kids are adults. I told my husband. If one day you come home and find a For Sale sign on the front lawn, even if it's tomorrow, you'll know that the house on Apple went on the market. By the way, the place is blessed with a brilliant address that makes me smile! I wouldn't be surprised if the house never goes up for sale. Still, I will do everything I can to eventually move us into such a place.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
musack
A few years ago, I helped out a friend. We had lived just blocks from each other in NYC, where we were both freelancing musicians. We had been buddies in a way, but looking back, I recognize that she always got me to help her with a lot of things with not much in return. She had a diva-like personality and everything was really all about her. And now she was in Nevada, trying to figure out her musical life in her new surroundings. She had just gotten married.
She saw on Facebook that I had a website and gave Mommy-and-Me classes. She called to ask about it. I spent hours on the phone with her, explaining to her how she could run some classes and which basic instruments she needed. I taught her some songs, gave her names of recordings, told her what I thought was important about running a good class, explained billing... she'd call and ask me questions and I would explain and then some.
And then one day, she announced her new website for all to see. All of her 1000 friends, who then gave her thumbs ups and compliments. I went to see myself. And guess what? Her new and exciting offerings in Mommy-and-Me and early childhood music were beautifully and substantially described, but wholly -as in, entirely - lifted from my website! I was speechless and so upset in a way I had never been with anyone. I showed my husband, correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't all of these words MINE??
So, snap! I stopped any contact with her. Fine she was in Nevada, not like she was going to steal any potential students. But it was MY writing and stuff that took me years to figure out that she was passing off as her own. I didn't respond to her announcement and never reached out. I never again heard from her, anyway. She was done, at the moment, getting what she wanted.
But then, guess what? There was a message in my Facebook inbox, yesterday. It read:
Gimky, I just want to apologize for something I must've said to upset you. I clearly said something to offend you and I'm sorry. The music world is too small and I know we will probably run into each other at some point and I hope to regain your friendship. Hope you and the family are well. I always cherish the memories I have with you. Kenny and I are glad to be back in NYC. Love, Kiki
If and when we bump into each other, I will be nothing but friendly. Life is short. But for that same reason, and at the risk of sounding petty, I'm also not willing to go the extra distance with her again. Even if every word here is sincere, it's not lost on me that it took her 3 years to reach out and only on the occasion that she's back in my neck of the woods.
She saw on Facebook that I had a website and gave Mommy-and-Me classes. She called to ask about it. I spent hours on the phone with her, explaining to her how she could run some classes and which basic instruments she needed. I taught her some songs, gave her names of recordings, told her what I thought was important about running a good class, explained billing... she'd call and ask me questions and I would explain and then some.
And then one day, she announced her new website for all to see. All of her 1000 friends, who then gave her thumbs ups and compliments. I went to see myself. And guess what? Her new and exciting offerings in Mommy-and-Me and early childhood music were beautifully and substantially described, but wholly -as in, entirely - lifted from my website! I was speechless and so upset in a way I had never been with anyone. I showed my husband, correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't all of these words MINE??
So, snap! I stopped any contact with her. Fine she was in Nevada, not like she was going to steal any potential students. But it was MY writing and stuff that took me years to figure out that she was passing off as her own. I didn't respond to her announcement and never reached out. I never again heard from her, anyway. She was done, at the moment, getting what she wanted.
But then, guess what? There was a message in my Facebook inbox, yesterday. It read:
Gimky, I just want to apologize for something I must've said to upset you. I clearly said something to offend you and I'm sorry. The music world is too small and I know we will probably run into each other at some point and I hope to regain your friendship. Hope you and the family are well. I always cherish the memories I have with you. Kenny and I are glad to be back in NYC. Love, Kiki
If and when we bump into each other, I will be nothing but friendly. Life is short. But for that same reason, and at the risk of sounding petty, I'm also not willing to go the extra distance with her again. Even if every word here is sincere, it's not lost on me that it took her 3 years to reach out and only on the occasion that she's back in my neck of the woods.
Friday, October 21, 2011
back to the future
This house is, in many ways, just simply too big for us. We don't have enough stuff for it and frankly, we aren't enough people. But on the other hand, it means we can sleep 17 for Thanksgiving and have the greatest time during those 4 days. It means we can take in Kati and her family for 2 months, so they can rent out their house and the girls can finish out the school year. It also means that my parents or my mom, in theory, could stay with us.
My little sister and I touched on the topic the other day. We talked about what would happen, particularly if my mom survives my dad. It's unlikely my mom could live alone. My sister is prepared to have her live in the apartment attached to her house. Currently, she rents it out to a U of Michigan student year-to-year. The advantage is that my mom would have my adorable nieces to keep her company, and they both just love her. Problem is, to get to this apartment, which is really bright and airy and spacious, you have to take a flight of stairs up. The other thing is, of all the sisters, my little sister is the most likely to be continuously at odds with my mom. She just doesn't put up with baloney.
The thing about my house, is that there is a family room with a door on the main floor with a full bath in the hallway. It's also in walking distance of mom and pop-type shops. I think I'm also the most patient with my mom, although she'd still have to keep her behavior in check because my husband would absolutely not enable it. The night she ran out of our NYC apartment was also the first night we brought Belac home from the hospital. She had come without my dad to 'help' with the baby. I wanted to go out after her on this cold, February night. My husband pointed out to me. We have two young boys at home, one who is 3 days old. Neither one of us is going out to wander the streets looking for her....
She'll end up living with both of us, I predicted. We'll figure it out.
My little sister and I touched on the topic the other day. We talked about what would happen, particularly if my mom survives my dad. It's unlikely my mom could live alone. My sister is prepared to have her live in the apartment attached to her house. Currently, she rents it out to a U of Michigan student year-to-year. The advantage is that my mom would have my adorable nieces to keep her company, and they both just love her. Problem is, to get to this apartment, which is really bright and airy and spacious, you have to take a flight of stairs up. The other thing is, of all the sisters, my little sister is the most likely to be continuously at odds with my mom. She just doesn't put up with baloney.
The thing about my house, is that there is a family room with a door on the main floor with a full bath in the hallway. It's also in walking distance of mom and pop-type shops. I think I'm also the most patient with my mom, although she'd still have to keep her behavior in check because my husband would absolutely not enable it. The night she ran out of our NYC apartment was also the first night we brought Belac home from the hospital. She had come without my dad to 'help' with the baby. I wanted to go out after her on this cold, February night. My husband pointed out to me. We have two young boys at home, one who is 3 days old. Neither one of us is going out to wander the streets looking for her....
She'll end up living with both of us, I predicted. We'll figure it out.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Mom now
My little sister sent pictures of her daughters drawing and reading in the waiting room with my dad. She wrote to tell us that her littlest one took her first steps in the waiting room. She updated me that a large bone spur was removed from C3. She later told me that they were waiting for respiratory because my mom had chest tightness. My dad told me surgery was successful.
Then tonight I arrived home to see a photo titled "Mom now." Special pink pad under her head, neck stretched in a brace and her eyes red like she had been crying. She seemed so little and childlike and in so need of a mommy. It breaks my heart to think she maybe didn't get what she needed from her own mom. I should have gone home.
Oy, I replied to my sisters, that makes me so sad.
My older sister wrote. Yes. I know that she'll be better tomorrow.
Then tonight I arrived home to see a photo titled "Mom now." Special pink pad under her head, neck stretched in a brace and her eyes red like she had been crying. She seemed so little and childlike and in so need of a mommy. It breaks my heart to think she maybe didn't get what she needed from her own mom. I should have gone home.
Oy, I replied to my sisters, that makes me so sad.
My older sister wrote. Yes. I know that she'll be better tomorrow.
picture day
Today is picture day. Pulled Jake's red CANADA hoodie out of the dryer, which he wants to wear for the picture. He wears it everyday and barely ever zips it off. A few years ago, he had a brown one, which he also barely took off in 2 years. And then one day he lost it and we couldn't find it anywhere. We went everywhere looking for it and asking about it and there were tears. A few months later, while in Canada, my husband and I bought him this new red one. It's a new year, a new school, a new CANADA hoodie! I told him. He looked away because I think he thought he was going to cry. Thanks mom, he whispered.
Jake is definitely his own person. He is not one of the mostly jocks at school who wears team shirts everyday. He cares and knows very little about sports. He's also not one of the preppies, either, with barber shop hair and polos. He's the kid playing chess, everyday, during activity period. The kid who struggles to be organized and stay on top of things, but then surprises everyone - most of all, himself - by bringing home decent grades on his tests. The kid who is miserable in team sports and always gets picked last, but who managed to run a 7:45 mile in a PE fitness test the other day, leaving all of his classmates in the dust. He couldn't believe it! We, too, didn't know that Jake was a particularly fast runner.... He wears sneakers, every single day. He prefers athletic pants to anything else and never wears jeans. He wears t-shirts, nothing with collars. And he prefers his hair on the longish side, a new development of the year. We have an agreement that it's okay if he can keep it neat looking....
This morning was interesting. He's a boy! He never let me fuss with his hair before. But today, he let me help. He let me spray a little hairspray on his do after he showed me how he wanted his bangs. I am really not crazy about the way his hair looks, but he feels good about it so why fight it? He's his own person. As long as he's kind and respectful and not hurting anyone, he's allowed to get comfortable in his own skin.
Jake is definitely his own person. He is not one of the mostly jocks at school who wears team shirts everyday. He cares and knows very little about sports. He's also not one of the preppies, either, with barber shop hair and polos. He's the kid playing chess, everyday, during activity period. The kid who struggles to be organized and stay on top of things, but then surprises everyone - most of all, himself - by bringing home decent grades on his tests. The kid who is miserable in team sports and always gets picked last, but who managed to run a 7:45 mile in a PE fitness test the other day, leaving all of his classmates in the dust. He couldn't believe it! We, too, didn't know that Jake was a particularly fast runner.... He wears sneakers, every single day. He prefers athletic pants to anything else and never wears jeans. He wears t-shirts, nothing with collars. And he prefers his hair on the longish side, a new development of the year. We have an agreement that it's okay if he can keep it neat looking....
This morning was interesting. He's a boy! He never let me fuss with his hair before. But today, he let me help. He let me spray a little hairspray on his do after he showed me how he wanted his bangs. I am really not crazy about the way his hair looks, but he feels good about it so why fight it? He's his own person. As long as he's kind and respectful and not hurting anyone, he's allowed to get comfortable in his own skin.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
the sisterhood
Older sis is going back to Michigan post-op to check on things. I would have gone, too, if I could leave my kids. Flurries of emails back and forth between sisters and others trying to arrange post-op care for my mom. And this is my family for you and why I am so lucky for my sisters. And it's what I hope I can teach my kids:
Be helpful. Be positive. Rise to the occasion. Don't hold grudges.
Be helpful. Be positive. Rise to the occasion. Don't hold grudges.
today
When I recognized my parents' number on the caller ID, I handed the phone to my husband. Five minutes in, I heard words about surgery and knew that my dad was calling to announce it would be happening. Gimky, get on the phone, my husband told me. I shook my head. I said, get on the phone, my husband repeated.
Hi dad, I said. So what's happening?
My mom is going to have a cervical laminectomy. Is it necessary? What is the success rate? My dad had his doctor's voice on. Then I asked, have you called for help, Dad? Because there's going to be recovery time and you can't be helping mom yourself. We tried to reach Kelly (Mrs. Abramsohn's aide at one time) and we're still trying to get a hold of her.... I took a deep breath and was deliberately unexcited. Tomorrow you should get the numbers of caretakers from the hospital. The surgery is already Thursday and you need help.... Who else knows? I asked. I tried to call your older sister but she wasn't answering....
My first call was to my younger sister. Do you know what's happening?
What's happening?
Mom's having... surgery?
Don't know anything about it and am not getting involved. I already told them that she shouldn't be going under the knife! I see this crap everyday with my patients. They feel like shit? Well how about they stop smoking their 2 packs a day? When was the last time you saw mom go to physical therapy? Try to lose 50 pounds? Do you see her trying to help herself?? In fact, she should be on antidepressants. That is legitimate treatment for chronic pain! If she's tried everything and it's still not working, then and only as a last resort, should she go under the knife! I told dad, look what happened to her knee! Did she ever recover from that surgery? I am not supporting this Gimky!
I was too tired to call my other sister.
This morning, I made my kids a warm breakfast and lunches. I packed the kids snacks and remembered the $3.50 Jake needed to bring and the extra plates and napkins for the party at school. I reminded him to check that his typed ELA assignment was in his folder.... Every morning this happens, that I get the kids out the door in time with everything they need and all of their stuff, I am shocked. And to be quite frank, though it always feels like I'm playing some kind of part, I am actually quite proud of myself. It was decades ago that I lived under the same roof with my mother, back when she already had a lot of problems and couldn't get herself up in the mornings, but my sisters and I still try to elude this legacy like it was just yesterday.
Hi dad, I said. So what's happening?
My mom is going to have a cervical laminectomy. Is it necessary? What is the success rate? My dad had his doctor's voice on. Then I asked, have you called for help, Dad? Because there's going to be recovery time and you can't be helping mom yourself. We tried to reach Kelly (Mrs. Abramsohn's aide at one time) and we're still trying to get a hold of her.... I took a deep breath and was deliberately unexcited. Tomorrow you should get the numbers of caretakers from the hospital. The surgery is already Thursday and you need help.... Who else knows? I asked. I tried to call your older sister but she wasn't answering....
My first call was to my younger sister. Do you know what's happening?
What's happening?
Mom's having... surgery?
Don't know anything about it and am not getting involved. I already told them that she shouldn't be going under the knife! I see this crap everyday with my patients. They feel like shit? Well how about they stop smoking their 2 packs a day? When was the last time you saw mom go to physical therapy? Try to lose 50 pounds? Do you see her trying to help herself?? In fact, she should be on antidepressants. That is legitimate treatment for chronic pain! If she's tried everything and it's still not working, then and only as a last resort, should she go under the knife! I told dad, look what happened to her knee! Did she ever recover from that surgery? I am not supporting this Gimky!
I was too tired to call my other sister.
This morning, I made my kids a warm breakfast and lunches. I packed the kids snacks and remembered the $3.50 Jake needed to bring and the extra plates and napkins for the party at school. I reminded him to check that his typed ELA assignment was in his folder.... Every morning this happens, that I get the kids out the door in time with everything they need and all of their stuff, I am shocked. And to be quite frank, though it always feels like I'm playing some kind of part, I am actually quite proud of myself. It was decades ago that I lived under the same roof with my mother, back when she already had a lot of problems and couldn't get herself up in the mornings, but my sisters and I still try to elude this legacy like it was just yesterday.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
oh boy
Belac 10/2011
Hi, Gimky. Oh, boy. What a journey. Thanks so much for telling me about Belac. I'm so sad you've had to deal with this.... So began the letter from my friend. I think it speaks to her character that she could respond so unassumingly with a little substance, humor, and acknowledgement. Not everyone knows how.
This morning, I quizzed Jake on his 20 spelling words. I couldn't pronounce more than half of them (miscreant, credence, etc.) and he corrected me with his own pronunciations that mostly sounded just as wrong. It was so funny and we laughed so hard. He was the last to leave this morning. I love you Jake, I told him as I hugged him goodbye, fussed with his hair, and watched him walk down the drive. Who would have ever thought, 20 years ago, that I love you could tumble out of my mouth so easily?
Happy Tuesday.
Monday, October 17, 2011
telling
Years ago, I was new to Facebook. I posted up sparkling photos of my darling kids and family. I started accumulating 'friends.' I caught up with an old school friend, known to speak his mind. "You obviously have a beautiful family. Do you think you're overcompensating [as a mom]?" He knew about my mom. I went back to study my profile. Is that how I appeared? Everyone at the time was worshipping the ground I walked on and afraid to be anything but encouraging to me. I don't know, maybe, I replied, I don't have a good measuring stick, you know. But my youngest one is autistic and we have to be very hands on with him....
I'm sure that he wanted to eat his words after what I disclosed, but I actually wasn't ruffled by his question. In fact, it was refreshing to just have a real conversation about what was going on. Especially since, as it would turn out, all of my other disclosures to old friends have been just generally weird.
An oboist friend I used to work with wrote me two lines out of the blue: I noticed that your favorite books are about autism. Is one of your kids autistic? I didn't and couldn't bring myself to reply. A little hello, first, would have been nice. Maybe she could have also signed her name, you know, to kind of warm up the hello? Instead, I went and deleted most of those books and likes.
Another time, a fellow pianist from Michigan I have known most of my life, someone who also ended up at Juilliard when I did, asked about the classes I was taking in NYC. This was someone who posted regularly on my wall with funny remarks and with whom I always had friendly banter, even pre-Facebook. I read his wife's blog, musician turned writer. I know his parents. When pressed for more details about the special needs teaching, I admitted to him in a personal message that my son had challenges. Days turned into weeks turned into months and he never responded nor wrote on my wall again. Isn't that weird? Did I say something wrong? I read and reread my note and really didn't get it. Soon afterwards, something similar happened with another person when she asked why we moved just miles away without first selling our house. Hello...? What just happened? Didn't you just ask about something and didn't I just tell you something?
I came to the conclusion that it is unimportant, unnecessary and even unadvisable to disclose anything about Belac's autism with old friends I never see in person. I couldn't assume anyone really cared or wanted to know, even if it seemed at times to appear otherwise. I accepted that FB would simply be a happy, fluffy place and for the most part, it has been just that.
Then a year ago, I accepted a friend request from an old college friend. We were never close, but I liked this girl because of her positive attitude and wit. I found she had not changed one bit over the years. Her statuses were always hilarious. She also alluded often to her figuring out her life despite having a medical degree from U of Michigan and staying home with a brood of four.... Then a few months ago, she made a vague mention about therapeutic riding. The comment prompted me to go back and look closely at the photos of her kids. They all looked happy and fine. Then recently, she showed one of her daughters riding a camel. This time, I could see that maybe her daughter had some sort of challenge. Scoliosis, maybe? and something a little off with how she was holding her body? I wrote to my friend, privately, and asked jokingly about therapeutic camel riding. Back and forth we went discussing therapeutic riding in detail while neither of us disclosed a word about why we seemed to know so much about it. The more neither of us said, the more I knew we both had stories, but I couldn't bring myself to be the first to say.
Last night, and still without offering a word about her daughter's condition, she wrote in a sentence: Gimky, please tell me about Belac. This time and with this person, I felt it was okay to say something and I did. But if she never writes back, someone is going to have to tell me what I've been doing wrong, short of never addressing it with old friends I don't see in real life.
I'm sure that he wanted to eat his words after what I disclosed, but I actually wasn't ruffled by his question. In fact, it was refreshing to just have a real conversation about what was going on. Especially since, as it would turn out, all of my other disclosures to old friends have been just generally weird.
An oboist friend I used to work with wrote me two lines out of the blue: I noticed that your favorite books are about autism. Is one of your kids autistic? I didn't and couldn't bring myself to reply. A little hello, first, would have been nice. Maybe she could have also signed her name, you know, to kind of warm up the hello? Instead, I went and deleted most of those books and likes.
Another time, a fellow pianist from Michigan I have known most of my life, someone who also ended up at Juilliard when I did, asked about the classes I was taking in NYC. This was someone who posted regularly on my wall with funny remarks and with whom I always had friendly banter, even pre-Facebook. I read his wife's blog, musician turned writer. I know his parents. When pressed for more details about the special needs teaching, I admitted to him in a personal message that my son had challenges. Days turned into weeks turned into months and he never responded nor wrote on my wall again. Isn't that weird? Did I say something wrong? I read and reread my note and really didn't get it. Soon afterwards, something similar happened with another person when she asked why we moved just miles away without first selling our house. Hello...? What just happened? Didn't you just ask about something and didn't I just tell you something?
I came to the conclusion that it is unimportant, unnecessary and even unadvisable to disclose anything about Belac's autism with old friends I never see in person. I couldn't assume anyone really cared or wanted to know, even if it seemed at times to appear otherwise. I accepted that FB would simply be a happy, fluffy place and for the most part, it has been just that.
Then a year ago, I accepted a friend request from an old college friend. We were never close, but I liked this girl because of her positive attitude and wit. I found she had not changed one bit over the years. Her statuses were always hilarious. She also alluded often to her figuring out her life despite having a medical degree from U of Michigan and staying home with a brood of four.... Then a few months ago, she made a vague mention about therapeutic riding. The comment prompted me to go back and look closely at the photos of her kids. They all looked happy and fine. Then recently, she showed one of her daughters riding a camel. This time, I could see that maybe her daughter had some sort of challenge. Scoliosis, maybe? and something a little off with how she was holding her body? I wrote to my friend, privately, and asked jokingly about therapeutic camel riding. Back and forth we went discussing therapeutic riding in detail while neither of us disclosed a word about why we seemed to know so much about it. The more neither of us said, the more I knew we both had stories, but I couldn't bring myself to be the first to say.
Last night, and still without offering a word about her daughter's condition, she wrote in a sentence: Gimky, please tell me about Belac. This time and with this person, I felt it was okay to say something and I did. But if she never writes back, someone is going to have to tell me what I've been doing wrong, short of never addressing it with old friends I don't see in real life.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Thanksgiving
Belac 10/2011
For lack of funds and time, I didn't go home for Thanksgiving during my first year in NYC. Instead, I ended up at some sort of potluck Thanksgiving in a student's cramped apartment. There happened to be a mom there, in visiting one of the musicians. I remember she was funny and genuinely curious about how everyone was faring as new and young New Yorkers. She kind of fussed over all of us. And as we all parted ways at the W72nd Street subway, she said something to a bunch of us like 'For heaven's sakes, it's Thanksgiving! Hug each other good bye!' One of the persons I hugged that day, later became a boyfriend.
Another Thanksgiving, I was invited along to someone's fancy-schmancy apartment on Central Park West. I had never seen such a place! The entire penthouse floor was someone's home and had 360 degree views of the world. There were about 30 people there. And the host, who I had never met before and who was so gracious and relaxed, made a beautiful toast about this being her favorite holiday. Over the past decades, she explained, people of all faiths and backgrounds, foreigners and sometimes strangers, gathered at her home for a feast of conversation and food. Thanksgiving was the one holiday that could be successfully celebrated by anyone and everyone, she explained, and she looked forward to this holiday all year long.
It was also that Thanksgiving evening that one of my closest friends, a Singaporean tenor, the person responsible for bringing me to that dinner, professed his love for me. At first it was funny. We had been working and performing together for years, we were at times inseparable and I had met his boyfriends and he had met mine. But when I realized he didn't seem to be just joking, we ended up having the most serious and awkward fight of our friendship. The situation freaked me out. I flagged down a cab for him and refused to be walked home. YOU ARE GAYER THAN THE GAYEST PERSON ON THE PLANET! I declared crudely. I know you love me and I love you, but there's no way that you're in love with me. NO WAY. Last I checked, I still have boobs and I'm still a girl... Please don't do this to me, I told him as I shut the door to his cab and wouldn't listen to another word of what he was saying, go home and sleep this off!!
Thanksgiving is this most beautiful thing! But I know from experience it can be messy....
This is the second year I will be hosting family for Thanksgiving and they are coming in from all over the US. I love the mayhem, the food, the drink, the kind of conversations you only have really late at night when most people have gone to bed.... Last year, I had 27 people here for dinner and aside from Regina, it appears that everyone's coming, again. It makes me happy to welcome everybody. My brother-in-law's sister is returning, but this time with a much younger boyfriend. My in-laws from Montreal have decided to join, too. Maybe my sister will get her boyfriend to come. Then my uncle wrote to ask if he could invite his goddaughter, her husband and child.... Really?
Saturday, October 15, 2011
going clean
I was very apologetic when I arrived at the Sunny Patch police station on Thursday. And by the time I did, the crossing guard had already announced her early retirement. I was both shocked and saddened by such a swift and dramatic chain of events. I was encouraged by the officer to please write up a report so that her decision would be irreversible. I think they have been trying to let her go for some time. But I just couldn't bring myself to report her in writing. These are tough times and what's the point? She's leaving, so let her go with a clean record.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
soup
Hodge-podge, thick and tasty soup, today: large carrots chopped up, celery with leaves, red, purple and gold potatoes, a bunch of tomatoes, garlic, turkey bacon, a little beef stock, and a couple cups of leftover rice, salt, pepper, and other seasonings.... A huge, simmering pot! Jake had 3 huge bowls beginning right after school without other snacks. It probably cost about 8 bucks to make, all in all, and by 7:36pm tonight there was not a drop left! I cut up a couple of apples for dessert. I asked my husband, tonight, was that enough food for you? It was. Why have I never made soup until this year??
In December, our family of 4 is traveling to Taiwan. I basically emptied out our bank account in buying those plane tickets last month. We have to seriously scrimp to have any spending money for this 10 day trip and nothing unexpected better happen! My parents are generously taking care of all of our hotel accommodations. It dawned on my sisters and me, after my dad's angioplasty, that if we were ever going to travel to Taiwan with my parents and really understand and know their history, that sooner than later would be better. And so we're all going! My sisters and their families and my parents.
Bring on the soup!
In December, our family of 4 is traveling to Taiwan. I basically emptied out our bank account in buying those plane tickets last month. We have to seriously scrimp to have any spending money for this 10 day trip and nothing unexpected better happen! My parents are generously taking care of all of our hotel accommodations. It dawned on my sisters and me, after my dad's angioplasty, that if we were ever going to travel to Taiwan with my parents and really understand and know their history, that sooner than later would be better. And so we're all going! My sisters and their families and my parents.
Bring on the soup!
crossing
What is it going to take for you to get out of your car?? I called from my corner.
Belac had run a half block ahead of me and stopped obediently at the corner as he had been told. The crossing guard was in her car, parked at the far corner, and never came out. It was a driver who stopped and made motions for him to pass before I could run up from behind to make sure all was okay. Did I mention we live on a main artery of town, a street with a double yellow line with a ton of morning traffic? Did I mention that sometimes drivers are impatient and don't stop and drive too fast and that our street is also a truck route? Crossing guards have been hired for a reason.
WHAT IS IT GOING TO TAKE FOR YOU TO GET OUT OF YOUR CAR? I called again from across the street.
Teachers looked quietly out of the corner of their eyes as they passed while entering school. I crossed over.
Listen. My son just crossed the street by himself. Did you see him?
I saw you, she told me.
You're supposed to cross everybody. Everybody!! There is not one other crossing guard in this town who sits in their car on the job! I know because I used to live on the other main artery and know every single one. The guards cross everybody whether there is a parent or not. The guards are out waiting in advance for the kids!
I can be out of this car in a second! I can see everything in this car!
Sorry!! But I know this isn't right. That's at least one second too late. You're supposed to be on the street already, stopping traffic as soon as you see any child nearby, not sitting in your car!! This can't be right and I know it's not right, it's not right....! And how are my son and I supposed to practice his walking to school by himself if you don't get out of your car?
What? If your son can't cross a street by himself, he shouldn't be walking to school. There's no practicing walking to school, you just do it.
The apologetic, take-what-you-can-get-and-be-happy-about-it me was long gone. I was LIVID! No point wasting another breath reasoning with her.
I marched to the Principal's office in anger. What's it going to take? My neighbor complained to the town a month ago after her kids were almost hit by a car. Last year, Jake was almost hit when a car made a quick left turn onto the busy side street. He tells me that he just crosses himself at that intersection. Is she responsible for crossing just the main artery or also the side street? Both, has always been the answer. But both is not what she's doing. The Principal told me her hands were tied. She had been complaining about this crossing guard sitting in her car for years and she told me that it was going to take residents speaking up.
I called the town police, the crossing guard's employer, and made a complaint. They asked for my name and address. They seemed sympathetic enough and want me coming in and putting it in writing. I hate this. I am not a complainer. I don't ask for special treatment. I hate making waves. I hate the thought that she might take it out on my kids or that I'm getting her in trouble, especially in these times. I hate that she might say something bad about me to other people. I'm the nicest person! I hate that my name will be down there forever and ever as some whistle blower.... But there have been enough warnings to know that something is not right. More than anything, I hate that this woman is not doing her job properly at the expense of my kids' safety. I have no choice but to speak up. Ugh!
Belac had run a half block ahead of me and stopped obediently at the corner as he had been told. The crossing guard was in her car, parked at the far corner, and never came out. It was a driver who stopped and made motions for him to pass before I could run up from behind to make sure all was okay. Did I mention we live on a main artery of town, a street with a double yellow line with a ton of morning traffic? Did I mention that sometimes drivers are impatient and don't stop and drive too fast and that our street is also a truck route? Crossing guards have been hired for a reason.
WHAT IS IT GOING TO TAKE FOR YOU TO GET OUT OF YOUR CAR? I called again from across the street.
Teachers looked quietly out of the corner of their eyes as they passed while entering school. I crossed over.
Listen. My son just crossed the street by himself. Did you see him?
I saw you, she told me.
You're supposed to cross everybody. Everybody!! There is not one other crossing guard in this town who sits in their car on the job! I know because I used to live on the other main artery and know every single one. The guards cross everybody whether there is a parent or not. The guards are out waiting in advance for the kids!
I can be out of this car in a second! I can see everything in this car!
Sorry!! But I know this isn't right. That's at least one second too late. You're supposed to be on the street already, stopping traffic as soon as you see any child nearby, not sitting in your car!! This can't be right and I know it's not right, it's not right....! And how are my son and I supposed to practice his walking to school by himself if you don't get out of your car?
What? If your son can't cross a street by himself, he shouldn't be walking to school. There's no practicing walking to school, you just do it.
The apologetic, take-what-you-can-get-and-be-happy-about-it me was long gone. I was LIVID! No point wasting another breath reasoning with her.
I marched to the Principal's office in anger. What's it going to take? My neighbor complained to the town a month ago after her kids were almost hit by a car. Last year, Jake was almost hit when a car made a quick left turn onto the busy side street. He tells me that he just crosses himself at that intersection. Is she responsible for crossing just the main artery or also the side street? Both, has always been the answer. But both is not what she's doing. The Principal told me her hands were tied. She had been complaining about this crossing guard sitting in her car for years and she told me that it was going to take residents speaking up.
I called the town police, the crossing guard's employer, and made a complaint. They asked for my name and address. They seemed sympathetic enough and want me coming in and putting it in writing. I hate this. I am not a complainer. I don't ask for special treatment. I hate making waves. I hate the thought that she might take it out on my kids or that I'm getting her in trouble, especially in these times. I hate that she might say something bad about me to other people. I'm the nicest person! I hate that my name will be down there forever and ever as some whistle blower.... But there have been enough warnings to know that something is not right. More than anything, I hate that this woman is not doing her job properly at the expense of my kids' safety. I have no choice but to speak up. Ugh!
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
taste of Taiwan
Belac 10/2011
In Taiwan, people often eat mwai for breakfast. It's a rice porridge made from rice from the previous night's dinner, eaten with whatever leftover meat and veggies. Sometimes, if you're fancy or don't have any rice, you'll make noodles in the morning and eat them with leftovers. Or maybe you'll make fried rice, again with all of the leftovers mixed in with an egg or two. I remember my mom doing this when I was very young or eating this kind of breakfast with relatives.
My friend Ella knows all about my concerns with the boys. She told me years ago, how important especially the protein is at breakfast when it comes to a kid's better concentration and performance in school. I had been limping along with Jake, who is just generally not hungry in the mornings. Maybe I could get him to take a nibble from a bagel or an egg or eat a handful of cheerios, but left to his own devices, I'm sure he'd skip breakfast.
Well, lo and behold, my kids have been eating breakfast lately like never before. And what are they eating? Big bowls of steaming noodles in spicy soup accompanied by leftover meat and veggies. It's mind-boggling. I just happened to stop by an asian grocery store, a couple of weeks ago, and picked up a variety of noodles, spices and soup mixes, never thinking it would end up being the kids' breakfast. But they literally slurp all of this up in the mornings.
When I went to wake Jake and promised him noodles if he could be dressed and down in 10 minutes, he was down in half of the time and ready to eat. This morning, he ate noodles, soup, 1/2 steak and a cucumber before running off to PE at 7:45am. It's totally weird to have come limping along this far, only to discover that the kids have the taste to be eating like Taiwanese natives in the morning!
Monday, October 10, 2011
actually
Belac 10/11
On the phone for hours, tonight, with first my dad and then my sisters. It seems my mother might have suffered some sort of stroke over the week-end, but then recovered within 24 hours. She's going under observation tomorrow. I cannot even begin to describe the kind of conversations my sisters and I had tonight....
In the past decade, my mother has had lumbar spinal surgery. She has had hip replacement. Now she might have more spinal surgery because of her neck pain and numbness in her arm. None of the surgeries so far have been successful in fully alleviating her symptoms and she has had chronic pain for as long as I remember. None of us is sure that she has been diligent enough about her medications or physical therapy. I think she has been depressed for most of my life. She also has high blood pressure and is not the most mentally stable person. She had trouble getting out of bed for most of my growing up. She ran away often. She was impossible to talk to. She knew how to throw up on the spot for anything. She was allergic to everything and had side effects to most drugs. Her ailments were always so mysterious and unresolvable.... My mom is also obese, doesn't eat well, doesn't sleep well, doesn't move enough, and doesn't take care of herself. My sisters are both medical doctors as is my father and... well. Has the wolf arrived? We don't know. We don't know what's real and what's... going on. I'm not sure any of us believe that it will ever be right with my mom.
One of my sisters wonders if she'd be better off on anti-depressants rather than undergoing the knife again. My other sister asks me to what extent my husband knew about my mom before he thought it was okay to marry me. My sister is 42 years old, has never been married and is currently in a serious relationship.
What could I say. Introducing my mom to anyone who meant something to me was always a real issue. My mom behaved badly with me during my courtship with my husband. She didn't speak to me for months over something ridiculous and hung up on me every time when I lived in Germany. She met my in-laws over golf and laid down on the green in between holes and shut her eyes like she was sleeping until it was her turn again. She vanished at my engagement party at my parent's house even though my in-laws had flown in all the way from Montreal. My mother stopped talking to my sister and everyone else on the day of her wedding and the burden was my dad's to convince her to get out of bed just minutes before my sister's ceremony began.... We just couldn't depend on her in a certain way, but somehow my husband was able to overlook my mom's issues. He had to just have faith that I wouldn't follow in those particular footsteps, in the same way my little sister's husband had to do the same.
At least he can see there have been other men who took chances with the Snowflake sisters, Chrissy! Besides, I told her, mom can't possibly be as big of an issue as Belac's autism! Isn't he worried about having a child with autism? What have you told him about Belac?
Oh, Gimky, Belac's nothing! I told him that Belac is autistic and high functioning, big deal!
Are you kidding me...? You see mom as a bigger issue than Belac?
Actually, yes.
I am too tired to write about this now. But ultimately, the person who ends up being with my sister has to love her so much that all of this doesn't matter. They have to have a strong enough relationship to withstand the unknowns. He's not marrying my mother and frankly, of all the 3 sisters, my older sister is the LEAST likely to turn into my mother. And as for autism... there are no guarantees. But people and families do survive it.
free to be
Jake, Belac and Izzy are walking the dog together around the block. It's usually Jake's job, but they all wanted to go. It's Columbus Day so there is no school. The house is a disaster and I have loads of laundry, dishes and stuff, but it was a different kind of morning. We all sat lazily at breakfast in the messy kitchen. It was nice to join them instead of being up, packing lunches and barking at them. I gave Izzy a piano lesson, Belac did math and I helped Jake study for a test he has tomorrow. Everyone read. And now the day is still young and the sun is shining and they've been rewarded with a promised afternoon of ga-ga, tricks on the skateboards, scooter races and general freedom. Jake's buddy from the old house will be here any second.... The windows are open, the doors are open, and I have Puccini blaring as I am about to give this kitchen a scrub-down. Feeling free, the best feeling of all!
Sunday, October 9, 2011
clipping away
Broke the fast last night with another Sunny Patch family. I would call them friends, people I like talking to and being with, but people I also don't know that well yet. Our boys go to summer camp together and they attend the same schools. A year ago, without using the A word, I told them how we ended up in Sunny Patch. A few weeks ago, both Belac and Jake stayed at their house to watch a movie for one of their boys' birthday....
When we hopped in the car and came home late, last night, Jake commented. Wow, that was really fun.
What did you like about it?
I liked playing tag. I liked the french toast. I liked hanging out....
2 hours later, I heard Jake call my name. He was standing in the hall rubbing his eyes. I brought him back to bed and patted his back.
I can't see it! he cried as he suddenly sat up and started sobbing his head off.
It's okay, I told him, let's get up....
Okay, okay... Jake replied, knowing the spiel and walking to the bathroom. He sobbed as he peed and then was shivering as we went to the kitchen. His teeth were chattering and he kept intermittently wailing as if something bad kept appearing in his mind.
Let's have some warm milk, I told him.
Okay... okay.... Jake agreed through tears and I could see he was trying to get a hold of himself.
And then just like that, snap, he was completely quiet and I knew he had woken up.
How's the milk?
Good, he replied, totally with me and calm.
Do you remember what happened?
No, he replied, with his head in his mug.
As I clipped his nails at the bottom of the steps before going back up, he exclaimed, MOM! You're hurting me!!! I chuckled and kept clipping. Jake, I love when you're half asleep because I can take care of this stuff. Just consider yourself lucky I'm not cutting your hair...! You ready for bed?
He nodded sleepily. And with that, he ran up without me.
When we hopped in the car and came home late, last night, Jake commented. Wow, that was really fun.
What did you like about it?
I liked playing tag. I liked the french toast. I liked hanging out....
2 hours later, I heard Jake call my name. He was standing in the hall rubbing his eyes. I brought him back to bed and patted his back.
I can't see it! he cried as he suddenly sat up and started sobbing his head off.
It's okay, I told him, let's get up....
Okay, okay... Jake replied, knowing the spiel and walking to the bathroom. He sobbed as he peed and then was shivering as we went to the kitchen. His teeth were chattering and he kept intermittently wailing as if something bad kept appearing in his mind.
Let's have some warm milk, I told him.
Okay... okay.... Jake agreed through tears and I could see he was trying to get a hold of himself.
And then just like that, snap, he was completely quiet and I knew he had woken up.
How's the milk?
Good, he replied, totally with me and calm.
Do you remember what happened?
No, he replied, with his head in his mug.
As I clipped his nails at the bottom of the steps before going back up, he exclaimed, MOM! You're hurting me!!! I chuckled and kept clipping. Jake, I love when you're half asleep because I can take care of this stuff. Just consider yourself lucky I'm not cutting your hair...! You ready for bed?
He nodded sleepily. And with that, he ran up without me.
Friday, October 7, 2011
proud
Came home from services, tonight, and we agreed the kids could play the Wii before bed. The kids had sat quietly for 1-1/2 hours through a solemn service and it had been a long and hard week for all. And guess what? Jake brought home a 95% on his Science test today, his first official grade of the year.
As we walked up our dark drive, my husband asked Jake. Know why I'm so happy to let you guys have such a treat even though it's time for bed (and Yom Kippur - I didn't say)? Why? Jake asked. Because you worked really hard this week and I also heard you did a great job on your Science test, my husband replied as he entered into the house first. Feels good, doesn't it? I asked from behind. And just as Jake was to step into the house, he turned around and hugged me with his arms around my waist and head buried in my chest. It was dark and his brother was yelling, Come On Jake! Let's play the Wii!! But Jake was not listening and was obviously overcome with emotion. I understand his relief about how the year is going so far. You're doing great, I told Jake as I squeezed him tight, and I am so proud of you!
As we walked up our dark drive, my husband asked Jake. Know why I'm so happy to let you guys have such a treat even though it's time for bed (and Yom Kippur - I didn't say)? Why? Jake asked. Because you worked really hard this week and I also heard you did a great job on your Science test, my husband replied as he entered into the house first. Feels good, doesn't it? I asked from behind. And just as Jake was to step into the house, he turned around and hugged me with his arms around my waist and head buried in my chest. It was dark and his brother was yelling, Come On Jake! Let's play the Wii!! But Jake was not listening and was obviously overcome with emotion. I understand his relief about how the year is going so far. You're doing great, I told Jake as I squeezed him tight, and I am so proud of you!
Yom Kippur
Tonight begins Yom Kippur, the Jewish people's Day of Atonement. I just like the idea of this holiday. Take a hard look at how the past year has gone. What was bad, what was good, and what could I have done better? Then move forward. Tomorrow is a new day.
So in the spirit of Yom Kippur, I have thought about this past year. The hardest challenge was helping Jake in what turned out to be a hugely difficult year for him. His anxiety over school was partly nurtured and then exacerbated by a volatile and negative teacher on the eve of her retirement. Bad sleep turned into almost daily nightmares and night terrors over a period of 6 months, accompanied by tears and unclear thinking and extreme sensitivities brought on from months of bad sleep. Pile on my own thick layer of guilt, worrying that I had neglected Jake during those early years of Belac's autism.... It was an enormous, endless-seeming, messy storm, the extremeness of which - I now realize - forced us to face up to the issues. And if there was ever a doubt in Jake's mind, that I could be there for him in the same way that I'm there for Belac over autism, I hope that it was put to some rest this year.
There were numerous conferences with Jake's teachers. Meetings with the school psychologist. There were so many morning pep talks! There were dinners with heavy carbs at night. Hot baths. Warm milk at bedtime. Lots of Calvin & Hobbes books. There were nights we were up for hours. There had never been so many tears. There were mornings I woke up to find myself having spent the night on his floor. There were nights he came to my bedside 2 or 3 times. And he was so sweet. Each and every time I came to him he said 'thanks, Mom.' I took great pains to hide my despair and always reassure him, but it always amazed me, that he never ever failed to thank me each and every time I came to him. It made me emotional to know - and I sometimes brushed away tears to hear his thanks - that he never took me for granted.
It has now been at least 3 weeks since Jake's last nightmare/terror, knock on wood. It's great that he's in the new middle school, with all new teachers and in a homeroom class with a couple of good buddies. It's a clean start and the making of a new history. Maybe the sleeping and some of the anxiety would have resolved itself in the same time, anyway, regardless of all my attention. But looking back, I see all of what has developed this past year.
I spend not any more time with the kids, but the time that I spend with them is more quality time. I now make a conscious effort to talk to the boys about non-school stuff, especially when walking to and from school. I tell them more about what's going on with me and especially this year, I have found myself remembering and telling Jake stories from my childhood, revealing just what kind of an imperfect kid I was. This year, Jake has very few extracurriculars, so there's time for homework without rushing and stress. When my husband and I pair off with the boys, I'm not just always with Belac and am now sometimes with Jake. And at bedtime, I am no longer rushing off to do the dishes or go on the internet. I spend time sitting on Jake's bed in the dark, saying good night and chatting about stuff. He expects and wants it. Mom? Can you stay a little? he always asks me without fail. It's become our little routine and it's really nice.
I spend not any more time with the kids, but the time that I spend with them is more quality time. I now make a conscious effort to talk to the boys about non-school stuff, especially when walking to and from school. I tell them more about what's going on with me and especially this year, I have found myself remembering and telling Jake stories from my childhood, revealing just what kind of an imperfect kid I was. This year, Jake has very few extracurriculars, so there's time for homework without rushing and stress. When my husband and I pair off with the boys, I'm not just always with Belac and am now sometimes with Jake. And at bedtime, I am no longer rushing off to do the dishes or go on the internet. I spend time sitting on Jake's bed in the dark, saying good night and chatting about stuff. He expects and wants it. Mom? Can you stay a little? he always asks me without fail. It's become our little routine and it's really nice.
I really believe that those months of despair were necessary to get us to this rather peaceful place today. Sometimes I think that things have to hit rock bottom before real and sustainable changes take place. In the meantime, I'm glad that my boy is sleeping soundly again and I am just so grateful that I've had this chance to show Jake how I love him.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
compliment
Belac is supposed to read 20 minutes a day and keep a reading log, which he has been doing for the past 3 weeks. So far, we have read one chapter book together, with me occasionally reading passages to him when he gets too tired. The rest of the time he has read comic books on his own.
I asked his aide, yesterday. Is it okay that we've been logging those graphic-like novels as reading? I feel sheepish about that, but I don't always have time to sit with him. I am sure that he's following the story from box to box and reading, but there's a lot of time studying the illustrations, you know....
Gimky, it's fine, the aide told me, the fact that he's sitting with any kind of book, everyday, is great. Listen, what you are doing for him shows. I want you to know that we can tell that his learning is a priority at home. He has a lot more work in 3rd grade and there's a lot more sitting. It's very hard for him to sustain focus at times, but you know what? He knows what he has to do and he's getting his work done and he's keeping up. You obviously make time for his learning and oversee the kind of work he's doing and it makes an impact on what happens in school.
Thank you, I told her. I don't know why she felt compelled to tell me all of that, but it was the nicest thing. Who cares about the piano and that no one knows me in Sunny Patch as anyone other than my children's mother? Even I don't think of myself as a real pianist, anymore, and depending on the day, I'm kind of okay with it. But that was like the best NYTimes review ever.
I asked his aide, yesterday. Is it okay that we've been logging those graphic-like novels as reading? I feel sheepish about that, but I don't always have time to sit with him. I am sure that he's following the story from box to box and reading, but there's a lot of time studying the illustrations, you know....
Gimky, it's fine, the aide told me, the fact that he's sitting with any kind of book, everyday, is great. Listen, what you are doing for him shows. I want you to know that we can tell that his learning is a priority at home. He has a lot more work in 3rd grade and there's a lot more sitting. It's very hard for him to sustain focus at times, but you know what? He knows what he has to do and he's getting his work done and he's keeping up. You obviously make time for his learning and oversee the kind of work he's doing and it makes an impact on what happens in school.
Thank you, I told her. I don't know why she felt compelled to tell me all of that, but it was the nicest thing. Who cares about the piano and that no one knows me in Sunny Patch as anyone other than my children's mother? Even I don't think of myself as a real pianist, anymore, and depending on the day, I'm kind of okay with it. But that was like the best NYTimes review ever.
Special Needs Workshops by Ramapo
"Managing the Behavior of Children with Special Needs"
and
"Help Me Make Friends"
Wednesday, November 16, 2011 in Scarsdale, NY
($15 registration)
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
black dress
I was invited to a trunk sale today. I've never been to such a thing and knew it wasn't for me. I viewed it as a gathering of privileged women with nothing better to do than gossip and spend money together. But the problem was, it was at Lily's house and something Lily's mom was hosting. I want to foster a good relationship with her for the sake of Belac. Does that mean I have to buy something? I asked my husband. Just buy one thing, he told me. I rolled my eyes. Let's just see what that one thing costs.
I went. I picked through the rack. I watched other women chit chat and try on clothes in front of each other in chummy, giggly ways. And then there was me with my 15 dollar lime-green pleather purse from Tar-jay (aka Target), my 20 dollar pink sweater from Kohls, my 5 year old-cords from Old Navy, rummaging through a designer's shirts that were 80 dollars a piece and things that were very pretty but not what I felt compelled to BUY. I forced myself to smile and laugh and chit chat even though I was anything but comfortable with this whole thing. I had a few donuts and a coffee. I ended up buying a dress, of all things, like I need a black dress. At least it was cute and something I'd wear... that is, for just the right occasion....
Before I left, a women suggested to another that they should invite me to something else. It was a self-described gathering of "wonderful" women who fundraise on behalf of the school district. They meet once a month for wine and conversation and ideas. Maybe it would be fun, but I had never heard of such a thing in my 2 years here and it bothered me a little. Is it because I was suddenly 'in' because I showed up and bought a dress? I couldn't help but think that I had just passed some sort of litmus test.
Come back to see the winter line! one of the women called to me as I left. What? This wasn't enough? Honestly, what crazy shit.
I went. I picked through the rack. I watched other women chit chat and try on clothes in front of each other in chummy, giggly ways. And then there was me with my 15 dollar lime-green pleather purse from Tar-jay (aka Target), my 20 dollar pink sweater from Kohls, my 5 year old-cords from Old Navy, rummaging through a designer's shirts that were 80 dollars a piece and things that were very pretty but not what I felt compelled to BUY. I forced myself to smile and laugh and chit chat even though I was anything but comfortable with this whole thing. I had a few donuts and a coffee. I ended up buying a dress, of all things, like I need a black dress. At least it was cute and something I'd wear... that is, for just the right occasion....
Before I left, a women suggested to another that they should invite me to something else. It was a self-described gathering of "wonderful" women who fundraise on behalf of the school district. They meet once a month for wine and conversation and ideas. Maybe it would be fun, but I had never heard of such a thing in my 2 years here and it bothered me a little. Is it because I was suddenly 'in' because I showed up and bought a dress? I couldn't help but think that I had just passed some sort of litmus test.
Come back to see the winter line! one of the women called to me as I left. What? This wasn't enough? Honestly, what crazy shit.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
sweet on the seat
Went on a bike ride with a new family today. I had invited them many-a-time and there was always some conflict. This morning we got a call. Are you guys riding? We want to come with!
So off we went on a more modest 9-mile loop on this sunny, cool day. The older son is Jake's age and they go to the same school. I realized when we stopped at the playground how nice it was that the boy's dad was along, it really helps to kind of guide and encourage the kids' friendships. In the last couple of miles, the boy was chugging along with everyone far ahead. Gimky? I thought that you said Belac would be the slowest one.
I had said that, didn't I? Belac rides very slowly, so we're always in two groups, I had told the dad, there's always someone to ride with. For the first time, though, Belac was on Izzy's bike, a bright, yellow hand-me-down with gears. Today, there was just one fast group and amazingly, it was Belac who was out front the entire way. Remarkable!
Meanwhile, the boy wanted to come over after the bike ride. He's now out on the driveway playing catch with Jake, something I've never seen Jake do with another kid. What a nice day.
So off we went on a more modest 9-mile loop on this sunny, cool day. The older son is Jake's age and they go to the same school. I realized when we stopped at the playground how nice it was that the boy's dad was along, it really helps to kind of guide and encourage the kids' friendships. In the last couple of miles, the boy was chugging along with everyone far ahead. Gimky? I thought that you said Belac would be the slowest one.
I had said that, didn't I? Belac rides very slowly, so we're always in two groups, I had told the dad, there's always someone to ride with. For the first time, though, Belac was on Izzy's bike, a bright, yellow hand-me-down with gears. Today, there was just one fast group and amazingly, it was Belac who was out front the entire way. Remarkable!
Meanwhile, the boy wanted to come over after the bike ride. He's now out on the driveway playing catch with Jake, something I've never seen Jake do with another kid. What a nice day.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
face time
Every now and then, you read stories about online deceptions. An 80-year old man develops an online romance with a woman, who believes he is half his age. Turns out 'Syrian gay girl' is a middle-aged 40-year old man. And in this day of Facebook, Twitter and general over-sharing, there are the more 'harmless' stories we tell each other in the form of witty quips and sparkling photos of ourselves and children....
Her name is Katie Bevins, to be precise, and I first met her, 2 years ago, in the basement of her house. Her son was having a rough day. She called her husband, who asked her to please hang on. Hang on? she cried, that's all I've been doing for the past 6 years! Of course, I knew that wasn't true. This was a woman who was doing much more than hanging on, but actively trying to help her kids and do right by them. But her moment of raw despair rang so true to me. And it was why I was 'there' in the first place. I had just come home from sending my boys off on their first day of their new school. We had sacrificed so much to get to this point and I was worried. I don't know what I expected to find when I googled 'autism,' 'first day of school', and a collection of words I don't remember now, but that was how I found Katie. I had never read a blog before or even knew what one was. But I was somehow comforted and less lonely in reading about Katie's experience. I loved reading her in real time. It also occurred to me - at this point - that maybe I could organize all of my confused feelings by writing.
Occasionally, we'd drop into each other's blogs and comment. One day, she wrote a reassuring note to tell me that - just like Jake - it took awhile for her older son to make friends after their move to Oregon. She was sweet and nice but not overly so. She seemed normal, an important characteristic when dealing with faceless people on the internet. And so in this way - and only in this way - did I feel comfortable keeping in touch over some of the most emotional details of my life.
Today, Katie was in from Oregon and visiting NYC. As I drove in, I finally had a moment to wonder what it would be like to meet her for the first time, face-to-face, with all of this intimate knowledge of each other. I believed it would be okay and wasn't very worried, but you also just never know what the truth is until you actually see for yourself.
When Katie emerged from her hotel elevator, we called out each other's names and hugged like old friends. My dad was happy to know I'm meeting you, she told me. Your dad is so sweet, I love your dad! I told her.
Obviously, this is not the conversation of people who met just 2 seconds ago. Right away, she asked about the boys and me, hers. Over the next hours, we filled in blanks that we couldn't glean from each other's blogs. And I also asked her about things we couldn't write about here for fear of hurting anyone's feelings. I noticed when Katie was deep in thought, she looked away as she spoke. And it was during one of those moments, that I fought the urge to cry. She was everything I thought she would be: down-to-earth, smart, curious, introspective, and funny. We mostly talked about our lives and relationships viewed through the lens of autism. It's not the kind of conversation I can have with just anyone. Even fewer than 1 in 100 moms 'get' the impact of autism in similar ways.
Katie, my friend. I loved meeting you today! Next time, I hope you'll all come and stay with us.
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