Running A Little Slower

     I am really busy. My life is crazy. Between work and my kids there is no time for dilly-dallying at all. As a result, I am always in a rush. It is a big problem for a New Yorker living in LA where no one else is ever in a rush. It always baffles me how relaxed everyone here is and why no one else has anywhere to go. Why is it that I am the only person in this town who bags her own groceries or honks in carpool line. It is truly mind boggling.

     Of late, work has been particularly crazy, crazier than usual and so I have been in more of a perpetual rush than usual, if that is even humanly possible. Thank g-d for the holidays though when everything and everyone basically shuts down in the US. My company has sort of closed for the two week period and as a result, although I am working, I find myself a lot less frantically and frenetically paced. Which is why I had an incredibly defining moment as Yonatans mother this week.

     I often joke that G-d gave me this life that requires so much patience but sadly forgot to give me the actual patience when  creating me. Long before I was a mother I was already quite impatient. No one would ever call patience one of my virtues, least of all my husband (or my mother). The problem is, that doing anything with my eldest requires buckets and buckets of it. He marches to the beat of his own drummer always. He could care less that I am always in a rush. For this reason, I rarely take him with me to do any errands. There is almost never a "we are just going to run in and out with him". This is the biggest reason that if you drive down my block you will often see me secretly sneaking out of my house so that I can accomplish something quickly, with out my slow poke tag along.

     This week though things are different. I am in less of a rush. It is the holidays and things are quiet. I termed christmas eve (one of only two days of the year that I have both child care and vacation) the "it's all about Miriam day" and lived it up to its fullest. I saw two movies and got a massage.  I even managed to take a shower without a single soul screaming at me thru the closed bathroom door, AMAZING. A must be repeated moment. Tuesday was perfect, I really was free to do my own thing until 3:30 pm and man did I milk it.

     The joy of Tuesday though was nothing compared to the amazement of 30 minutes on Wednesday morning spent with Yonatan. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I wasn't in a rush. I dropped the younger kids at school and Yonatan joined along for the ride. He asked if he could come with me to the supermarket and I actually said yes, something that would usually be a fate worse than death for me considering the long list of things I needed from there. But as I said, I wasn't in a rush. Let me tell you what a difference not  being in a rush makes. We had a blast! I can't remember the last time I laughed so much or had such a great time at the supermarket. We  raced with the cart, we laughed, he careened around the store making u-turns and giggling out loud. It was fun. The most dreaded of outings turned out to be better than an all me all the time day. All I had to do was simply slow down. Slow down and allow myself time to enjoy the experience of watching him be free to have fun. I didn't yell even once, I didn't threaten him that if he didn't listen I would have to take away his mail, all I did was sit back and enjoy my son for who he is and embrace it. And it was perfect.

    If only I could  be in a little less of a rush a little more often in my life. Sadly, I think we all know that is highly unlikely given my personality (and life) and so, I will have to take the moments I can get.

Changing Winds

     I have often said, when speaking of my oldest sons moods that "you just never know which way the wind is blowing" or "depending on whether or not the moon and stars are aligned in his little mind" is how the day might go. Since it is difficult to understand how he processes things it is hard to predict how he might react to things or how a day might go. In short, every day is a crap shoot.

     But not lately. I am not sure what the cause is or why there is a change, but I looked at my husband lats night and said "he is simply easier lately". We pondered for a minute what the cause might be. Was it camp? Is it the new school? Is it simply that he is getting older and understanding more. Are his communication skills better and so he finds that people understand him better? Is the change actually in us? Are we calmer? Do we have a better handle on how to deal with him? Is the fact that we have fully accepted who he is and what our life is the reason? Or is it a combination of all of these things.

     A few months ago, maybe even closer to a year, I woke up one morning and realized that my life was difficult. I know that sounds ridiculous considering that everyone else on earth already knew it but it seems I was a little late to the game. What I mean is, obviously I recognized that I had a big challenge in life, one that many others don't face however, I simply thought (and often verbalized) that everyone has to play the cards they are dealt and these are my cards. There are no choices, as a parent you do what you have to and that is it. I downplayed the difficulty of the situation. Not that when issues came up or that when we had a rough day I didn't have my meltdowns or find it hard. It was more that I looked at the total package and spoke about it as if it just was. And then one day, I vocalized that my life was hard. As if it was some great epiphany! I think that was a turning point for me. It was in that moment of fully accepting that it was hard, and that it was ok to say so, that I began to feel more comfortable in my own skin as a mother of a child with special needs. It was in the recognition that it was ok to admit it that I let out a major sigh of relief and probably acceptance. I thought I was already there but obviously I wasn't fully there until that moment.

     So maybe that is the difference, or maybe it is all of the things that I listed above. It is also possible that we are having a good month and next month will be hellish or maybe not. Maybe this is the beginning of the season of change. Either way, I will take it happily and hope I am not jinxing it by writing about it (I know you are thinking that Amanda, so please knock on wood for me as only you can). 

     I found myself at the Apple Genius Bar for the millionth time this month on Monday. While waiting for my turn I overheard Dumb and Dumber (as I have been fondly referring to them in repeating this story) talking. Dumb mentioned that she works with special needs children. Dumber responded that it must be tough to which Dumber replied "yeah it is, the parents are the real idiots though".  I will stop there in my recitation of the story because the language and opinions only get more colorful. If you know me, you know it took all of my restraint not to get up and voice my opinion but since I had already labeled them Dumb and Dumber I decided it was probably a waste of breath. If I can try to extrapolate some wisdom from this eavesdropping (and I recognize that is a stretch) I would say that maybe there is some merit to it. The idea that our children sense our emotions and react is very real. Maybe just maybe my son sees that I am calmer and so he is too.

     People often come to me for advice about issues with their children. Fair warning, it is entirely possible that I give bad advice so this is in no way a suggestion that you ask me, but I think I will give some at this moment to parents who are behind me in this journey. Don't think that just because you are the parent of a child with special needs you do what you have to do. You are selling yourself short. Many people would simply pull the covers over their head and not get out of bed. They wouldn't deal with it. They wouldn't be their childs best advocate. Instead they would cobble along and do what they can. Pat yourself on the back, admit that your life is difficult. Fully accept your child and your situation and in that moment I think you too will begin to feel the season of change.

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

     I have already written about our visit to camp and how amazed and impressed we were by what we saw.  How special and incredible it was to see our son there and watch him thrive. When we sent him to HASC it was with the hope that he would have the best summer of his life. I truly did not understand the impact it would continue to have on our every single day.

     The first incredible moment happened when I picked him up from the bus after camp. I stood there and watched the way the counselors hugged him and didn’t want to say goodbye. The way he smiled and laughed and had an expression of pure joy on his face. The smile on his face when he turned to me and said “how many more weeks until I go back to camp?”

     What has been even more amazing is seeing the continual impact that camp has had on him. He is calmer and easier going. He has something to talk about that he loves other than the mail. He has true friends and people who he misses and can’t wait to see again. He has fun games and activities that he picked up at camp that he continues to play at home, things that really keep him occupied, which is definitely something new. He is easier to transition, he started a new school the day he got back from camp and we had almost no issues at all. He adjusted quickly and easily to both the new school and going on the school bus everyday.  He is simply put, happier.

     But the absolute and truly most amazing gift is the counselors and the people who love him. We had the opportunity over the holiday to travel to Israel. My family lives there and so we usually go twice a year. It is not usually an easy trip to make with Yonatan. It is difficult to take him out of his routine and bring him to a place where he really does not have anything to do but eat candy and hit up all of my parents neighbors for ice pops. Usually the entire trip is about survival and making it to the end. Our last trip there, over pesach, was exceedingly difficult and ended in our shigella nightmare (previously well documented in this blog).

     Not this time! This trip was wonderful. Yonatan was calmer and easier to begin with. However, what I truly attribute our amazing trip to are the incredible people who came to spend time with him. Counselors from camp who just wanted a chance to hang out with Yoyo because to them that is an amazing way to spend a day. The boy who is working with adults with special needs this year and came to stay with us to help out, who opened his heart to Yonatan and had a blast with him. Greatest of all, was his counselor who spent most of the holiday with us because he loves my son so completely and adores him.  Watching them together made my heart sing and my lips smile all day long. So instead of two weeks of difficulty and disaster we had a wonderful trip. Our other children got to go places and do fun things; Yonatan learned to ride the bus in Israel and went on the light rail. He actually did things outside of the house, every day, for the first time ever. And every day my husband and I had an opportunity to see the magic of HASC before our eyes as we watched the most incredible 18 year old boy come to hang out with Yonatan during his vacation because that was really all he wanted to do and where he wanted to be. He didn’t come because he thought he had to or because the food was better at our house than in school. He came each day (even on days he wasn’t supposed to) because he just couldn’t stay away. And it was incredible.

     And so, when people ask me if I got a break this simmer and if sending him to camp was good for us I have a new answer. The break I got was not having him out of the house, because I love when he is home. Our break was knowing that for the first time ever our son was someplace where he truly belonged. He was in a place where he was normal and everyone “typical” was actually “non-typical”. What gives me joy about having sent him there is that for the first time in his life I was able to give him unadulterated happiness and joy and an opportunity to be considered perfect as he is. And that is the break my soul needed. 

Visiting Day

     Sometimes we make decisions and we absolutely know with confidence that they are the right ones. That we are making the best choice we can. More often than not though, we decide to do something and then hope for the best. Many things in life are a shot in the dark.

     That is what we felt about our decision to send our oldest to sleep away camp. For more than a year everyone and their brother had been trying to convince us to do it. They swore up and down that this camp was Disney World for kids with special needs and that it was the absolute best thing we could do for him and for our family. With all that encouragement we felt that we had to give it a try. And so on June 27^th I packed him up and sent him, accompanies by his father, to NY for 7 weeks. As we drove to the airport with our child crying and saying he wasn’t going, we looked at each other and said “one summer! We will try it but after this time we will not force him to go again”.

     Even with all the assurances that he would have a blast and all the smiley, happy pictures that were being sent to us by his counselors and our “spies” in camp, we were still not sure we made the right choice. My husband and I fretted nightly. We worried that he was homesick; we felt that no one could care for his as well as we could and that he would simply not enjoy it.

     A few Sundays ago was visiting day. My husband and I left the 2 younger kids with my in laws and headed to NY. We were so excited, literally jumping out of our skin. We could not wait to see him. We battled a delayed flight, a confused GPS and made it about an hour and a half late. As I walked into the camp scanning for my boy, I suddenly heard out of the corner of my ear “hi Mommy” and my heart melted. I have never had such an amazing hug in my entire life. We laughed, we cried and smiled ear to ear.

     From the moment we got there he had a huge grin on his face. We met all of his friends, we were stopped by countless staff members saying to us “Are you YoYo’s mom and dad? I love him, he is amazing, he is my favorite”. Our son took us from place to place showing us what he does all day and simply being together and having fun. It was a perfect day.

     About an hour into our visit my husband looked at me and said “it is such a weight off”. It really was. As I said, it seemed like he was having fun but until we saw it with our own eyes we couldn’t be sure. We couldn’t know how right our decision was. That sending our son to a place where being different is the norm was exactly right. That we were sending him in to the arms of an 18 year boy who is so incredible and so loves our child and with whom he has probably formed what will be a lasting and wonderful friendship. That he would make real friends, his own age! That we would three days later receive two separate pictures of him smiling with his arm around his bunkmates. That this would truly be even better than Disney Land. It is better because at Camp Hasc everyone is like him where as at Disney Land, no one is.

     There was one thing though, that everyone got wrong. Everyone talked about how important this was for our other children and about how we needed a break. No one told me how desperately we would miss him, how I would feel like my right arm was missing. That my other children would ask for him daily. That getting that good shabbos call each Friday would become what I would wait for each week. That visiting day would be the happiest day of my entire summer.

     And so I have learned something incredibly valuable. I have learned that I do not need a “break” from him and that sending him away was not for me. I have learned that sending him to camp was entirely for him. That giving him this experience was absolutely the right thing to do for him because he deserves to be somewhere where everyone thinks he is a rockstar, where no matter what he does he is perfect in their eyes. Where kids much younger than me choose to spend their summer caring for and loving for kids like mine. I am blown away by this camp and by the people who work there. I wish I could say that I would have been one of those kids who volunteer to work at camp Hasc. But I am honest enough to say that I wouldn’t have been. 

Stoically Freaking Out

     As you know, these days I am stoic. I am taking everything in stride and it is working for me. Which is why, if you were to bump into me on the street or speak to me on the phone you would never know that I am actually totally freaking out.

     Why am I freaking out you ask? We have decided to send our oldest to sleep away camp this summer. There is a camp on the east coast for children with special needs. For about two years, people have been trying to convince us to send him there. There has been a real campaign going and we have finally been convinced to send him. We have been promised that it is like "Disney World for kids with special needs" and that he is going to have the summer of his life. Everyone who has ever been there swears up and down that it will be amazing.

     It's not that I don't believe them, obviously I do or I wouldn't be sending him. It's that I have a million emotions running through me as I think about this decision that we have made. I know that kids go to sleep away camp all the time, but honestly this really is different. First of all, he is only 8! He is still a baby and seven weeks is a long time. Second of all, I am not entirely sure that he gets it. I know he knows he is going to camp and that he is taking an airplane to get there. I know that he understands that he is sleeping there for seven weeks but I am pretty sure that he has almost no concept of time. He gets that his father is bringing him there, but does he realize that about an hour after he drops him off he is leaving him? No clue.

    Those are just the logistical concerns. I am not at all worried about the care he will receive, it is clear that he will be loved and well cared for. To be honest, I am more worried about myself in that regard. Being Yonatans mom is a full time job, 168 hours a week. It consumes me. In many ways it defines me. What will I do on Thursday morning when the thing that takes up 98% of my brain power is not here? Many people have offered to give me suggestions, but still, it really will be strange. I compare it to someone who G-d forbid is caring for a sick loved one on a full time basis. If that person becomes well or (G-d forbid) dies, and you no longer are responsible for their care everyday you suddenly find yourself at a loss as to what to do everyday. 

     On the flip side, I keep hearing that this is not only the best thing for him but for all of us. A break for me and my husband. An opportunity for my other kids to shine and have all of our attention. To do things as a family that we can't otherwise do. While that sounds great, it makes me feel incredibly sad. We are a family, we do things as a unit. It saddens me to think that in order for us to be able to do things we need to not all be together. My greater family is going on a trip to Europe this summer and he will be the only one not there. That doesn't make me say "great, now we can go to more museums" it makes me want to cry that we can't do that with him. That in order to participate we need to ship him off for the summer. Yeah, I get it, he will be having a much better time. So what, I am still sad. It feels wrong as his mother to need a break. I know what all of you are thinking, every parent needs a break. This is normal. You are all wrong. Until you have a child with special needs, you really don't get it. It is not the same. There is a lot more guilt associated with my needing a break and your needing one. Sorry, but that is just the truth.

    My biggest fear? What happens if this is the most relaxing summer and 7 weeks I have ever had. What happens if what everyone says is true. Will it be hard to start again when he comes home? To slip back into the role of being his mom full time? Honestly, that feeling is what gives me the most guilt. 

    And so, as I sit here 48 hours before his departure, I am silently freaking out. I am torn up in side and really hoping that he will have the summer of his life, which has been promised to me. Because if not, I will have an obscene amount of mom guilt and I may not be able to be quite so stoic about that.

Around The Corner

     When I was younger I always believed that I was destined to be a great mother. Not average, not even good but truly great. I envisioned myself squiring around my large (and by large I mean many many children) brood effortlessly, being the house where everyone sent their kids to play. The mom with endless snacks and the house where all the fun was. Admittedly, in this pipe dream of mine, I conveniently omitted the fact that I am the least patient person G-d ever created and so clearly, that was in no way a factor working against my future amazing parenting. Well you know how the saying goes "Man plans and G-d laughs". At me apparently, like a hyena!
     Clearly, in real life I am not that Mom. For starters, there is no large brood. The word effortlessly is no longer part of the vocabulary and usually, I do not even attempt to squire all three of my children around alone anywhere. I used to always say that I would never be that mother who took her nanny places with her. I scoffed at those people! HA, look at me now, I can't go anywhere without at least one extra set of hands, and often I need two.
     On the rare occasion however, when I do make the attempt to do it and it is successful, I feel amazing. Sadly, that is the exception and never the rule. This may be a major factor in why I hate holiday weekends. It is because they loom before us as a great cavern of "no help" days.
     Today was one of those days of "lets just make it to bedtime". We were sailing along pretty well and at about 4:15 my oldest asked me to watch him play in front. This meant that he wanted to walk up and down the block delivering the mail. I said "sure" and with him and my youngest riding her tricycle in tow, we headed down the block. Around 10 minutes into it my middle came running down the block to check on me (per his Dads instructions) and see if I needed any help. Like I said, I rarely go anywhere with out an extra set of hands. I told my middle we were good and he said "wait for me, I am just going to get my scooter and I want to come with you". Two minutes later, he came back and we set off around the block. We were having a blast! Singing, dancing walking like old men hunched over and stooped and just simply having fun together. I was euphoric. I was patting  myself on the back. See that, I told myself, you can do it. All that self congratulations over taking a walk with my own kids around the block, how pathetic. Not to mention presumptive. About half way down the block (literally almost backyard to backyard with my own house) we bumped into a woman who was playing in front of her house with her toddler. I have no idea why this so derailed my son and our great time but it did completely. He sat down on the grass and refused to go anywhere. He started trying to run into these people's home and hugging them (clearly stranger danger is still an issue for us). He began to run away from me and of course I ended up having to tackle him to the ground multiple times. I actually turned to my 6 year old, 6 YEAR OLD, and told him to ride home alone (without a helmut, which in and of itself takes me off the great mom list) and get his father. Before you call child protective services, don't worry, I canceled that request. All of this was of course happening on some strangers front lawn, until they finally asked if they could help and I borrowed their cell phone to call my husband who had to come help me get home. By that time I was sweating, my back and neck were killing, my bubble had burst and I was peeling off every layer I had on. Which may actually have been the more interesting show...
     Lessons learned? Don't be young and dumb? Don't leave home with out your cell phone? Or maybe most importantly (as my cousin pointed out) don't be so stupid as to congratulate yourself until you actually make it around the damn block!

"I Pity The Fool"

     What is amazing about the Mark family is that we always try to excel at everything. We never want to be considered slackers and so we ALWAYS make sure to take everything to the next level. Really, a trait to be admired I think. Allow me to share with you our latest escapade....
     We went to Israel for Pesach. We had a lovely time. I will not pretend that it was easy and will admit, that for the first week my husband and I told anyone who asked that the flight had been the best part so far, but truly it was a lovely trip. Until... The night before we left my middle son became sick. He was burning up with fever, vomiting and had diarrhea. A few hours later, my husband began complaining of having the chills and feeling achy. By the next morning my middle seemed to be on the mend and I thought great, just a 12 hour bug although my husband still looked terrible. Like any good wife, I assumed he was just being a man and made him promise that he would be helpful on the flight home that night. When we got to the airport my oldest threw up all over the floor while we waited for the flight. Of course, I thought to myself, 12 hour bug 15 hour flight we are screwed. He proceeded to vomit a good portion of the flight but magically (and with great talent) got it all in the bag every time (great flying tip btw, way better than the airline sickness bags are the plastics that hold the airline magazines, try it next time. They are the perfect receptacle). When we got home he seemed to be getting worse. He had terrible diarrhea that every time I thought was gone came back. He was in and out of school and it just didn't seem to be getting under control. And then, I got sick. Terrible vomiting and stomach pains. I called the pediatrician and said "you have to help us" and had everyone in the family tested.
     There is a virus going around called Norovirus and that is what we thought we had. The thing about us though, is that we love to do everything the best we possibly can, and so we assumed we just couldn't shake it. Turns out we were wrong, and we could do it even better. On Sunday afternoon the pediatricians office called to inform me that we had tested positive for Shigella, which is a bacterial infection. I was elated, I cried tears of joy because I thought, yay we are all going to finally go back to feeling normal because we can take anti-biotics. HALLELUJAH! In passing she mentioned to me that we may be contacted by the health department since the lab has to report Shigella to them (yes Maimonides families, that email was about us. The mystery is solved). OK I thought, no problem. WRONG!
     The next thing I knew, the sh**t hit the fan (literally). Due to the fact that my son is in a class A sensitivity group (transalation: a class with special needs children) he had to be removed from school for a minimum of two weeks. So now, even though we are all finally healthy, I have him home from school indefinitely. Without going into all the details of what made yesterday insane suffice it to say I believe it is a miracle that my pediatrician has not yet fired us as patients. It was not a great day. I did quite a bit of crying and self pitying.
     When I got into bed last night I was exhausted, and sorry for the fact that I had cried so much. I finally felt sick of feeling pitiful. And so, I woke up this morning with a new resolve. I will no longer be pitiful, I will be stoic. Doesn't matter what you throw my way, I am a rock and I can not be knocked down. I am stoic. I am loving this new stoicism. It is quite liberating. So today, when I noticed that my son had a tooth that looked like it was rotting and I took him to the dentist and found out that not only does the tooth have to go but that he also has no adult bottom front teeth coming in and never will, I just smiled and nodded and said of course. Of course he has no front bottom adult teeth because we are the Marks and we love to excel at everything. So we can't just have bad teeth or cavities, we have to have no teeth,  STOIC. I am telling you, it is awesome.
     And so, I encourage you to try it. Send something my way that you think will phase me. It won't because I am stoic and loving it.
     Stay tuned for the continuation of the teeth capades. I am sure they will be equally as entertaining.

A Really Bad Day

     Today was a difficult day. One of those days where part of you wants to go back and try it again and the other part of you can't believe you made it to the other side. Today may have been the most difficult one I have ever had with my son. It is hard to say if he was the problem or if I was. I am not sure what made this one the one that put me over the top. But it was that one.
     It started off bad, the truth is the last two weeks have been quite challenging. I don't ever know what is going on in that mind of his, or what sets him off but it has been this way for more than a week. He has really been giving us a run for our money. From the start, he was being difficult this morning. I should have known when he flagged down one of my neighbors and climbed into her car that it was only going to get to get worse from there, but somehow I decided to continue on with the day. Mistake #1.
     Every Sunday morning we go to The Coffee Bean. It is a long standing tradition. One I hate to punish him from and so I took him. My husband went to baseball with my middle son and My oldest and youngest went with me. We started off OK there but quickly spiraled downhill.
     I am not sure when the exact moment was when I began to lose it. It may have been when I had to drag him out of the Office Depot next door because he ran in the door, when the store was still closed, and they had opened to let an employee in. It could have been when I had to physically remove him from The Coffee Bean, dragging him by the arms in front of many people I knew. Possibly, when I realized that I could honestly care less what people think of me or when I realized I didn't even care what I thought about me. Maybe it was when I shoved him into the car in a pretzel fold and lodged him between the front and back seat so I would have enough time to get in the front seat and lock the doors before he could get out. It might have been when I actually drove home with him climbing between the front and back seat, a seatbelt a long lost dream. Or at the moment when I realized that if I was pulled over by a cop with an 8 year unbuckled in the front seat, tears streaming down my face, mascara everywhere he would likely arrest me and jail might have been a reprieve. Possibly, when I dragged him out of the car and gave up trying to get him in to the house because I was sweating so badly and shaking so much from all of the physical exertion and then told my son when he threatened to run away that "it was fine with me", sat myself down on the stoop and waited for my husband to come home and force him into the house. When I realized that he is already much stronger than me and that this is what the rest of my life looks like?
     I am not sure which moment it was. I can say that for the first time ever, as I was packing to go away for Passover, I looked at my husband and said "this may be a suicide mission and we should just stay home" and that we must be crazy to get on a 15 hour plane ride with him and then have him out of his routine for two weeks. Maybe it was the guilt that I felt over having made my other son leave his baseball game early. Or that fact that I left my 2 year old at Coffee Bean with my Aunt with out even a backwards glance.
     I don't know why today was the day that I thought to myself "I can't do this anymore" but now that the day is over, and my house is finally quiet (dirty and messy too, but at least quiet). Now that I have taken 3 showers because honestly that is the only place in the house where I can lock the door and be alone and breath, I know that I will do it again tomorrow. I know that I will, because I have no choice. We don't get to choose, that is not an option. And so I will wake up tomorrow morning, get my kids dressed for school, work all day, make dinner and finish packing for our trip (and yes, when I say finish packing I mean packing LOTS of drugs)  because that is what we parents of special needs children do. We just keep doing. We also never stop hoping that tomorrow will be a better day.

When The Nickel Drops

     For my middle sons 4th birthday I decided he should have a bike. My parents came to town and we all got in the car together to go to the local bike store to get it. Being a 4 year old, he wanted something else instead, probably a lego kit or another action figure or whatever he was into at the time. But as his Mom, I decided that at 4, you need a bike and that he was getting one. On the way to the bike store, I was still  working on convincing him what a great present it was when he asked me if his older brother was getting one too. I wasn't quite sure what to say, so I told him I wasn't sure. He looked at me and said "well YoYo has squishy hands so riding a bike will probably be hard for him". I am not really sure what squishy hands meant, but I did understand that he "understood". At that age he already knew his brother was different and that was how he expressed it.
     About a year ago, my husband and he were sitting on the couch watching TV. They were watching a show called Ninjago which is about lego ninjas who are "brothers". The white ninja, Zane, is different and is always "annoying" his brothers. In this particular episode we discovered that Zane is in fact a robot and that is the reason he is different. Sensei Woo, the leader and mentor of the ninja's, explains to the others that even though everyone is different, he is still your brother. At that moment, my son turned to my husband and said "oh, like Yonatan" and promptly turned back to the tv with out any further discussion.
     This past Sunday my husband went to a donate blood at a local blood drive. My middle son decided to go with him to witness his good deed. On the way there, he was asking my husband questions about blood and what it means to donate it. For some reason my husband decided to use Ninjago as a metaphor for giving blood. He talked about how Zane is a robot and just like him we also have a "jet pack" on our backs that turns our blood on and off. His little brain got straight to work and he said to his father "oh, can we turn Yonatan  off of special needs" followed by "Do I have special needs?".
     We have never had a real discussion with our 5 (almost 6 year old) about his older brother. But we know that he "gets" it. What exactly he gets, I am not sure of. But I know that  he gets it. In asking that, he wanted to know how we could help his brother. He recognizes that his brother is different and wants to help him. He is amazingly patient and compassionate towards his brother. He doesn't want him to be different because he sees that it is hard on Yonatan. He asks me all the time when he and his brother can go to the same school and why Yonatan can't go to a jewish school. It is always on his mind.
     I don't know when the right time to have the "talk" is. Truthfully, I dread it more than the "other" talk. It seems though, that I may not need to. That he is a pretty bright kid and so he is figuring it out on his own. That over time he will understand more and more and ask us when he has questions. It is interesting to watch this happen and to hear a 5 year olds perspective. It seems that he is piecing this together on his own in a childs way and I am pretty sure that we adults should not get in the way of that.

Palm Springs Redux

     It turns out that I have been blogging long enough that I am now able to write sequels. It is hard to top last years Palm Springs adventure (if you haven't read it yet, and want a good laugh, click here), so I won't try.
     After last years "success" we were far more gung-ho to go away this year than last. This year, both my sisters-in-law and their families came to LA for winter break and so the whole family was going away together. Everyone was going for 2 nights and 3 days. My husband and I decided that two days and one night was enough for our oldest. I did not want to take off to much time from work anyway, and so we decided that I would come home with him a day early. We came armed with our babysitter, plenty of snacks and technology and off we went.
     I drove with the kids and babysitter and my husband hitched a ride with one of his sisters. Happily, I employed a GPS this time and made it in great time (it helps when you don't drive two hours out of the way). The kids did great in the car, until the last 10 minutes, but I have no complaints about that.
     When we got there, my son needed some time to adjust to the new setting. He doesn't transition easily and was having a bit of a hard time, so I set off to the pool with the younger two and my husband took him for a drive and some ice cream. By the time he got back to the hotel he was ready to swim and enjoy. He did great the rest of the first day and even slept late the next  morning.
     The second day was a little more challenging, but overall, he did great. (The thing about him is that even when he is great, he is a handful.) I made sure to pack it in around 3:30 so we could leave on a high note. All in all, it was a great and hugely successful trip. My younger kids had an amazing time with their cousins and  my oldest did great. Yes, I did have to lie to him and tell him that both Monday and Tuesday this week were a holiday so that he would be able to get in the car and leave the city and not fear missing the mailman (that one may not work next year since he saw the mail when we got home and couldn't get over that the mailman came on a holiday). Yes, I had to feed him way to many snacks on the way so that he would be OK for the drive. But truthfully, he did great and I am really proud of him.
     The problem is that I am a glass half empty kind of girl. I wish I weren't, but sadly I am. As I got in the car to drive home, I was truly proud of his success but at the same time I felt myself tearing up. I was crying, because even though he was a total rock star I still dream of a "normal" life and a "normal" family. I still wished that we could be a family that could all go away together for 3 days and not two. I wished that I didn't have to end the vacation early in order for it to be successful. I recognize fully, that this is my problem and not his. I know that I should accept our family for who we are and not for what other families are. But it is hard. So while I am insanely proud of my son for being amazing and allowing us to have a nice family vacation, I still wish.
    Like I said, glass half empty...