They go to 11!

Summer 2013: Ethan, off to camp!

Summer 2013: Jacob, waiting for the school bus!

Today my boys officially become Tweens! (Though, truth be told, Ethan has seemed like one for some time now.)

Eleven years ago today, right now, I was being wheeled out of surgical recovery and into my room, groggy but eager to hold my new sons tight and never let go.

I had fallen in love the minute I'd seen them, floored by the fierceness of the lioness awakened, that feeling that I would fight tooth and nail, would die to protect these tiny beings I had just officially met moments before.

Though of course I knew them already, intimately, for months as they swam inside me, tumbling about, tussling for space, occupying my every waking thought and visiting my dreams.

And now, of course, it's time to start letting go. And it has begun.

Ethan is off at summer camp this year. Two whole months.

The strangeness of mornings and evenings without him still shocks. I miss him sharply, and on this day most keenly.

We have visited once, and will again before he comes whirling home, tanner, taller, grown and matured in ways I cannot yet know.

Jacob is once more at his school's Summer Academy, which, joyfully, they make as much like camp as school. They tackle academics in the morning, and then the afternoons are for fun: swimming, art, cooking, playgrounds, plus a weekly all-day field trip.

Jacob keeps asking where Ethan is, even though he knows. And while he is now getting the lion's share of my attention, he would still rather have his brother along for the ride.

And now, today their birthday, it will feel so odd to celebrate with Jacob alone, Ethan phoning it in, as it were, the call from camp scheduled for 7 pm.

But I suppose it's just a shadow of years to come when Ethan has flown the coop while Jake is still here with us, moving ahead at his own pace, tethered by need as well as love.

On birthdays we look back as well as forward, and the years have just whipped by, haven't they?

I documented this last year, with pictures from every birthday leading up to their tenth, in my post: Counting up to TEN! as well as telling you about their Last Day of Nine.

And two years ago, I shared more details of the day of their birth, here: Nine Years and Counting.

And the year before that, I wrote my boys a love letter on their eighth birthday: A Good Day to be Born


So, Happy Birthday, my beautiful Boys!

It's been a wonderful eleven years with you and I can't wait to see what this next year has waiting for us around the bend!

Fragments

Door, Upper West Side

I have a new friend and I'm not telling her name but she is delightful and I am happy. This is a detail from her door. 

<*> <*> <*>

My walk through the city tonight feels like a stroll through a movie set. Here, a cafe where every single person seated at the outdoor tables is wearing a blue shirt, hues ranging from sky to azure to midnight. There, a blonde family of five - impossibly attractive and dressed to the nines for a festive occasion - pose for a photo as a man who can best be described as an African-American Gabby Hayes crosses the frame, fur lumberjack hat squashed down onto his head, pushing his squeaky wheeled shopping cart filled with dingy stuffed animals and dented soda cans.

Yes, this is my city. We all come out of central casting.

<*> <*> <*> 

Sunday, for the first time in ages, I stopped at Zabar's to pick up some lox, and had forgotten the artistry of the slicers there. While the stuff we usually get from our local bagel place is serviceable, this was a revelation: fresh, delicious and so thin you could nearly, as the saying goes, read the newspaper through it.

While I was watching the counter man slice, before I could stop it, the thought popped into my head that I should bring Walter some Zabar's lox next time I go see him, as it always delighted him so when I would arrive bearing real New York City appetizing. And then the sadness rushed in, a now constant tide.

<*> <*> <*>

Jacob has now woken up at 5:30 AM for more than a week.

This usually means that he is about to undergo a big leap in growth and understanding, his brain too excited to slumber past dawn.

It could however, just be an attempt to get uninterrupted screen time on his own terms, no brother to share and negotiate with.

Only time will tell.

<*> <*> <*>

Today I sat in the "big yard" with Ethan after school, eating our ice creams in a shady spot and watching the kids swirl around us, playing their hearts out. We are both still easily tired, the legacy of the stomach bug that swept through our household earlier this week, taking us down like bowling pins, Ethan the first to go on Monday afternoon.

So instead of jumping up to join the fracas, he sits beside me, in the quiet watching, rests his head on my shoulder, waves back at his friend's younger siblings when they spot us and yell hello.

I look at the Kindergarteners among them, and then down at my nearly eleven year-old son, sifting through the years that brought him from that to this. I can't quite believe that he was ever that little. Or that his time here is soon to come to a close.

Six years spent in these red brick walls. Now less than two weeks until goodbye.

Tonight is the 5th grade dance. The girls will dress in taffeta and heels. The boys will need to be persuaded to wash their faces and put on clean t-shirts. They'll arrive in groups, still separate; the boys here, the girls there.

Growing up. But not quite grown. Ethan's heart is mine for yet a little bit longer.

<*> <*> <*> 

I need to change the name of my blog. My sandwich is open faced now. Open to the heavens. 

Although, needless to say, most days I am still quite squashed.

<*> <*> <*>

I thought we were finally done with Thomas forever... until Jake stared obsessing over him again about three months ago.  Only now we have to discuss which season and which episode number and who the narrator is and what year it came out and is it a "classic" episode or a new one and does the narrator talk "Americanish" or "Englanish" and...  (I say bomb Sodor back to the stone ages & be done with it!)

Well, we did get a break from it for a while. Over the years, we have cycled through obsessions with Teletubbies, Batman, Bakugan, Blues Clues, Ben 10, Power Rangers, Sponge Bob, Dragonball Z Kai, Pingu, and - do NOT ask me why - old basketball games/teams. Specifically the 1974 Celtics for some reason - and we're New Yorkers! Some of these were a relief, while others made me long for the fat controller.

<*> <*> <*> 

It has been a month since my last post.

A month.

I never thought I would lose my voice for so long.

But the other losses have been adding up, cumulative, weighing me down. The words swirl in my head, coalesce into nothing more than little jagged fragments. A sentence here, a thought there, an amusing facebook update at most.

I write them down, thinking I will flesh them out into posts soon, but there they remain, dry bones waiting for life.

I am tired of waiting. Of silence.

So I scoop my shards up, spread open my hands just a bit, so that they may waft out between my fingers, sprinkle down onto this page, and leave them there, where they fall, willy-nilly.

Not quite a post, but not quite NOT one, either.

A start.

Clearing my throat.

More to follow.

October Thoughts

Mom, on the last day of September

It's the first of October... and what will this new month bring? Certainly more visits to my mother, twice or thrice weekly, sometimes with a boy or two in tow, sometimes not. (This past Sunday, with.)

Mom & Jake on Sunday

The air took a turn for the crisp today, and I was so ready for that, as my thoughts are gliding towards the autumnal too: a little sad, the bitter mixed in with the sweet. These are the days of waning and I feel that in nearly all things right now.

None more so than when visiting Mom.

She is so diminished, I don't even know what to do with my feelings when I see her. I just try to care for her as best I can. I hold her hand and look into her eyes. We talk a little but not so much, the deafness being a barrier as well as the cognitive dimming.

I take her out into the courtyard every time I come so she can get fresh air and see the trees and flowers, birds and squirrels - what passes for nature in a paved suburban enclave. I massage her shoulders - feeling the muscle melting away, more bone and less flesh each time - and try to make sure she is being properly taken cared of.

But "Mom"? Pretty much not there any more. Just a sweet old lady with a few of her memories (and fewer by the day).

Ethan is a soccer player now

And yet there is also this: Ethan woke up earlier than usual this morning, at the same time as Jake. Unable to fall back asleep, he joined us in the living room, and instead of his usual cranky not-ready-to-be-awake self, was incredibly helpful with getting Jake ready for school.

Ethan remarked upon the still dark at that wee hour, pondered the breaking dawn. He also kept track of the time and kept himself rather on schedule to get ready for school, too. And that was just the beginning...

I had a trying day today. Literally. An Impartial Hearing is in progress with the city's DOE over Jake's schooling, and today was an in-session day. I obviously can't talk about any of the details of it, as it is... in progress, other than to say: it's about as much fun as you imagine it to be.

The hearings are in downtown Brooklyn, and we are keeping our babysitting down to a minimum these days, which meant that Dan was in charge of the boys this afternoon until I could wend my way back to the Upper West Side of Manhattan.

I came home to find quite a scene: Ethan was in the middle of patiently helping Jacob with his homework (had gotten half his own homework done already, too).

You could have knocked me down with a feather. If you are at all aware of the normally fractious relationship between my boys (just this weekend, for example) you will be stunned at the miracle this event represents.

And then? And then? And then...

Ethan made dinner for himself and Jacob. Nothing elaborate, rather basic - organic hot dogs grilled in the toaster oven, cut up fruit, baby carrots, bread / rice crackers. But still, he took the initiative,  volunteered, followed through. Incredibly proud of himself afterwards (and rightly so).

So maybe another thing this month that's autumnal and waning is a good thing: Ethan's nine year-old obnoxiousity giving way to some incoming ten year-old maturity. A mightily welcome October surprise indeed.

And I'll leave you with a little more bit of October:

A live performance from The October Project - an old friend of mine's band from the 90s. They're lovely if you've never heard them. Haunting alternative rock. Had a few albums out. Enjoy....

First Day of Fifth Grade

Ethan on his 1st day of 5th grade

Today was Ethan's first day of his last year of Elementary School, a bittersweet moment if there ever was one. The biggest of the littles, poised on that precipice of tweendom, in that neither-here-nor-there land.

There is a whole year ahead of us, and much to do and learn, and yet there is that feeling of the beginning of an ending, that just... is.

Ethan has been at this school the whole time, entering as a just turned 5 year old so many years ago. Could he ever have been as tiny as the kindergarteners we passed today? Doubtful, but must be so.

We are seeing friends and acquaintances - both of us - that we haven't laid eyes on for nearly three long months, and the kids, they've all changed. Gotten taller, older, teen-y-er.

Ethan is about due for a big growth spurt, I can feel it coming. Mostly because his feet have just jumped a size and a half in two months, necessitating a major back-to-school shoe shopping session... Which he did not mind one bit, that fahionista son of mine.

Ethan's look saying "Enough pictures, Mom!"

I wish I had more time to enjoy all the feelings involved this back-to-school stuff, but I was deep in the detritus of my mother's life all day, getting ready to store or shed everything she and my father ever owned.

I jumped ship for an hour, left the great pack to pick Ethan up, necessary on his FIRST DAY of FIFTH GRADE.

But once I had shown up, my job was done. He really wanted to walk home ALONE with his friend, our upstairs neighbor. Not yet, my son, but I agreed to let them walk a half block ahead and make their own street crossing decisions, carefully observed, of course.

Walking home with a friend

Jake goes in on Monday: a new teacher, a new classroom, a new school building. Exciting and scary all at the same time.

Beginnings and ending, it seems like my life is all about that right now, as ever.

How did your back to school go?

Last year's fledgling, this year's eagle

My two empty nest days are over.

Tomorrow I am up early once again, driving out to Pennsylvania to pick Ethan up from camp.

So, with no time to write, and also Jacob much on my mind, as he spends his week at special needs sleep-away camp for the SECOND year in a row, I thought I would re-post my report from his first year there.

Last year I called him a "fledgling" as he was leaving the nest for the very first time. This year he has shown himself to be a veritable eagle, soaring high on his own wings, so easily.

Here is that post (written for the Hopeful Parents site) from last summer:

Jake & me at camp welcoming ceremony 2011

Fledgling

This summer, an amazing thing happened in our lives: our 9 year-old autistic son Jacob went to (ASD) sleep-away camp for a whole week in late August. And we didn't get that dreaded phone call to come get him because he was falling apart, unable to hack it. He had a great time.

This is the child who clung to me and sobbed when I left him at pre-school...

Who had to have a photo of me taped up in his cubby at Kindergarten, so the teachers could bring him over and point to it when he got sad and called out for me, reminding him that he would be going home to me on the bus in just a few scant hours...

The boy who every time we are out and about in the world doing anything, even something he truly loves, will ask, after a few hours, to go home please, telling me that he misses Coco (the cat) and his blue bear.

So knowing all this, why did we dare send him in the first place?

Well, we did it for him and we did it for us. For him because he is too dependent about things he actually has the ability to be independent with, but not the inclination; thinking that a week without us would kick-start some self-reliance, push him to take more responsibility for himself, where others are having expectations for him with the bar held high.

We also wanted him to have the confidence that comes with knowing he could spend a week apart from us and survive, and maybe even thrive.  We were hoping he would make friends, would try new things, that the experience would open up his life.

And also? I was terrified. Because while Jake may live in the body of a rather large nine year-old, emotionally and socially he is a LOT more like a four year-old. And you don't send four year-olds off to camp alone.

Also, the camp was a pilot program, being run out of a regular (Jewish) camp, at the end of their regular season. So this was an experiment on all sides. It was set up for "high functioning kids on the autism spectrum" ages 9 to 13, and I was afraid that Jake would have less language and be youngest both physically and emotionally.

We were teetering on the fence about this for a long time: was this the right thing to do, or should we wait another summer.  But I didn't want to underestimate my son, and I wanted to give him this opportunity to grow.

So, with trepidation, a few Sundays ago I loaded up the car with Jacob and a giant black duffle trunk containing a huge portion of his worldly belongings, a full set of medicine & vitamin packs and a detailed description of his GF/CF diet.

We had written social stories aplenty, made a special calendar that he could check off each day until it was the next Sunday and he was to come home. Blue bear came with, and he held him the whole ride up.

It was just Jake and I traveling North to the Berkshires together because his twin brother Ethan was traveling West to another state this same Sunday with their Dad, on his way to an introductory week of sleep-away camp, himself, along with a bunch of his friends. (Remember when I said this was for US, too?)

The whole ride up I chatted away to an unusually quiet Jake in the back seat, talking about camp and how today was Sunday and I was going to leave him there and come back the NEXT Sunday and pick him up. It was impossible to know how much was sinking in or not.

We arrived to be warmly greeted by a lovely staff. There were around a dozen kids in the program, and surprisingly about half were girls. There was a family welcoming ceremony with songs and prayers and introductions.

You know you're at Autism Spectrum camp when someone steps up to introduce themselves to a group and says "Hi, I'm Dan" and a voice from the peanut gallery calls out: "You're short!" (He was.)

Toward the end of the ceremony, Jake turned to me and asked, calmly, "Are you going now, Mom?" So I guess he understood, after all. I told him I was not leaving quite yet, that all the mommies and daddies would be kissing their kids goodbye at once and then he would go off with his counselors to settle into his bunk and begin the fun.

And when the time came, that's exactly what happened. A big kiss and hug, a wave, and goodbye, Jake. Wow. Someone had tears in their eyes, and it wasn't the boy.

I got a call the next day, and nearly had a heart attack because I got to my phone just as it rolled into voicemail. But it turned out to be a courtesy call, wanting to reassure us that all was fine, share that Jake had settled in well and was happily having fun.

Like all modern camps these days, photos posted daily to their website and we were able to see our boy swimming, dancing, sculpting, playing games, playing drums. Sometimes smiling and laughing sometimes looking a little lost inside himself, but never scowling, unhappy.

How strange it felt to not have him home, how many extra hours I had in my day to get things done, how unstructured my evenings became -- which was both exhilarating and vaguely un-mooring; that's another story for another day.

And then, when it was time to pick him up, he ran to Ethan and I beaming, happy to see us, but turning and waving goodbye to his new friends, too. A happy, tired boy, my little fledgling, one step closer to becoming the young man he will someday be.

NOTE: This post originally appeared on the group Hopeful Parents site on September 10th, 2011. Click HERE to read the original there.

Vacation plus Reality, with Pictures

A beautiful morning in Great Barrington

We are here on vacation, in a setting so idyllic it makes my heart zing every time I open my eyes and look around. My in-laws' beautiful Great Barrington house.

Boys actually playing together in pool = big win

And yet it is impossible to just relax and let myself be transported, for I am tethered to so much (phone calls, phone calls, phone calls about my mom). I didn't even make it into the pool yesterday. Though the boys did (all three).

3 guys in the pool

Coming back here, year after year, we have developed some traditions.  I spend as much time barefoot as possible - and take a picture of my feet in the grass, to remember this time by. Check!

I took some lovely portraits of the boys:

There was the 3rd annual watering of the car, an anticipated event now. This year Ethan did not fully join in, but he helped Jake fill the can. Cooperation at its finest. And the old beast is (marginally) cleaner, so there is that.

We had our walkabout in town, replete with a foraging session at the candy shop and a tour of Toms Toys, the lovely independent toy store on Main Street. I remember buying them Thomas trains there. (How fast they grow up. Sigh.)

Spinning the pinwheel outside Toms Toys

We found a local ball field and the guys had a game of catch. Thank goodness there was a basketball court there too.

Indoor diversions? Screens screens screens. Plus a 500 piece World Map puzzle Ethan and I worked on for 3 days. The Indonesian islands nearly killed us, but we got it done!

And then there is the new...

A this Greek restaurant, Ethan ordered the grilled SALMON off the kids menu and proceeded to eat it and ENJOY it. Anyone who knows what a picky and stalwart "kid food only" eater Ethan has been over the years is now probably thinking I was hallucinating at last night's dinner.

But no, it was real and he was thrilled that we were thrilled. As Jacob likes salmon, too, this means there is now something I can actually cook for a family meal that is healthy and everyone will eat. Not having regular family meals, the way I did growing up, the way I assumed I would in the family I created is a never-ending source of guilt and sadness for me.

This will make it easier to achieve, at least once a week. Salmon. Whew!

Ethan awaiting incoming ball

Underlying and overlaying all this classic vacation stuff, however, is my mother. All that I have to do for her in the next few weeks is a weight on my shoulders. How lonely she is in this week without my visit, a stone in my heart.

Compound that with feeling so sad and guilty that we never brought her here on vacation with us. Last year would have been the perfect year, after my frail and unmovable father had passed, yet when she was still hale enough herself to travel, to swim. Now is too late, she is so diminished.

I spot a hummingbird flitting amidst the morning glories outside the kitchen window and think "Oh, Mom would have loved to see this!" I would cry and cry about it, if I didn't need to make breakfast and put on my happy face for the boys.

Watching the kids cavort in the pool whilst in my PJs? Priceless.

So this is us on vacation. Just trying to have a little fun. To not think too much. And I'm determined to rest up a little bit before the shitstorm of caretaking that's going to hit upon our reentry on Friday.

Wish us luck, once again. Thanks. 

Counting up to TEN!

Double digits?

Yep, we got 'em!

Ten years ago today at exactly this time, 10:12 in the morning, you came into this world, my sons.

(Jake I know your birth certificate says 10:13 but that's just a formality because your head was out and you were screaming your lungs out in protest while it was still 10:12. Believe me, even drugged up on the c-section happy juice, I remember that.)

I have already told the story here (twice!) of how amazing that day was: last year when you turned nine, and the year before that when you became eight. So no need to rehash.

Let me just say, I am so excited as you stand here, on the cusp of your official "tweendom," headed soon into teenagehood and so much more beyond that.

Being an older mom (and feeling more and more ancient each day) can be very useful, sometimes. It means I have friends with much older (even adult) children, helps me to have some perspective on this whole growing-up-process thingie.

I know that the transformations to come will surprise and astound all of us. I look ahead three short years and see you already have a Bar Mitzvah date (October 10, 2015 if you're into long range planning).

Ethan, this is your last year of elementary school, and middle school awaits (and getting you into a good one, the bane of NYC public school existence, is my nearly full time job for the next few months). There is so much you have been looking forward to about this, your "senior" year, most of all when you will dominate the basketball court as a 5th grader.

Jacob, you have finished your two years as a "Level Two" student at your wonderful school, and are moving up to "Level Three" with new teachers in a new building. I hope the transition goes smoothly for you, and that this year's teachers will love you as much as your last. I'm thinking with how lovable you are, they certainly will, and promise I will be by your side to make sure you feel safe secure and happy as you negotiate the changes.

And, as much as I am looking forwards, birthdays always make me look backwards, too. So here it is, counting up to ten:

ZERO (1 day old)

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN! (and impossible to get them in one photo together)

Happy Birthday again, my wonderful sons, the adventure continues...

Last Day of Nine

Today was the boys' last day of being nine.

(Happy and sad, all at the same time, tumbling away inside of me: missing their little-boy-ness gone away forever now; excited about their growing, unfolding, becoming the big boys and young men they will be)

We had their birthday party today, a jam-packed affair: movie, pizza (burger for Jake) and then a hands-on tour of our local Rita's where the manager, Sandie, has become a friend. The boys made watermelon ice and got to taste a sample of their handiwork, yum!

Ethan and friends at lunch

Making ices at Rita's

And, oh, the cakes! Once again I was up nearly all night making the cakes. (Probably my last year for this too.)

Jake 2012 cake: Batman again!

Ethan 2012 cake: KNICKS!

That's it for today, folks, just a few pictures to share.

Ethan is FINALLY asleep (his plan to stay awake until midnight so as to usher in the first moment of 10 has failed).

Now to prepare for tomorrow, their ACTUAL birthday. We'll celebrate with a trip to Long Island to see their Grandma (my mom) and then back into the city for dinner at...  Clyde Frasier's Wine and Dine. And yes, there is a basketball court INSIDE the restaurant.

(Do I know what makes my boys happy or what?)

Wordless Wednesday: Shaggy No More

Remember this?

Ethan, April 2012

Gone. Now this:

Ethan, May 2012, freshly shorn

And while in the past I have always found Ethan to look older after his haircuts, this weekend he somehow looked younger. I think it's because his hair had gone so far into the shaggy side, he ended up looking teenagerish in his dishevelment, especially as it hooded his eyes somewhat. Remember the shot from earlier this spring, wherein he looked nothing so much as a young Bob Dylan? No? Here:

Bob

Ethan

Jake didn't quite NEED a cut the way Ethan did, but he prefers his hair short, so he got one, too.

My long haired boys on the way to Cozy's Cuts

Ethan insisted on getting into every photo I tried to take of Jake

Jake, happy with his short 'do. Yes, that's a zit on his forehead. Yikes!

Last photo before the shears

Why, yes, Ethan does like to mug for the camera

Trippin' down the New York City streets, post-cut

Later, reading a VERY good book...

... and out cold.

With the cat curled up at his feet.

That looks good, think I'll go take a nap, too.

Oh, wait, I have homework to supervise, kids to bathe, read with and put to bed. It was a nice thought though.