Monday, August 24, 2009

Story of the Day 8/ 24/ 2009

This morning, I was hoping and praying that ISD would not furnish me with a “story”.
This morning was the first day of the school year, for ISD.
This afternoon, I went to pick up Sarah’s textbooks and additional readings from ISD. I am supposed to pick up books for both her Social Studies and Language Arts classes.
This is the third year in a row that the books were supposed to be given to us so that we could have a copy for home.
It is not part of her IEP- Individualized Educational Plan. That is the plan that is developed to meet her individualized needs due to being Deaf. She doesn’t’ need the books because of that.
She needs the books so that’s he can do homework and study for tests- and a few years ago one of her teachers, the one who taught that Hitler was a sort of noble person who didn’t like killing anyone and that the Holocaust never happened, denied her the use of a textbook for several months- both for doing homework and for studying for tests.
Anyhow, our getting copies for home, each year, is part of what ISD agreed to after they didn’t’ seem to be able to get her books, that year.
The problem is that , this is the third year I have not been able to get the books.
One year, it was a few weeks delay. That was after I was told to come pick them up because they were ready.
Then, there was the year that we didn’t’ get all of them. Ever. I actually had to provide the in-class copy of a book she needed.
This year, I was handed a Social Studies textbook, and a math textbook.
And told to come back. Even though today was the day I was told to pick them up.
I was nice and didn’t’ take the math textbook, although it might have saved Sarah the trouble of lugging it home on evenings she has homework.

Well, this is a story, of sorts, but I must admit to be relieved that Sarah was in no way hurt by anything that happened at ISD- that this is all of it.
I hope the ISD stories stay at this level for the rest of the year….

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Story of teh Day 8/ 17/ 2009

Everyone needs a Jewish mother.
I said that already, yesterday.
Well, maybe a few hundred times previously, also.
I even told Shawn it on Facebook, yesterday, when she told me about her leaving her baby at Purdue……And how soon she is planning to be back there visiting and feeding him.

Now, the Jewish mother doesn’t’ necessarily have to be your own mother. And it doesn’t’ necessarily have to come dressed like a mother. Fathers can make good Jewish mothers , too.
All of the nasty Jewish mother jokes aside, it is important to understand the real history of the Jewish mother.
It is in the Torah. You see, we are commanded to be good Jewish mothers.
We are commanded to teach our children to swim.

Literally and figuratively.

Why? Literally, because they might drown.
And the figuratively is that there are other dangers out there, and we are required to prepare our children to meet them.

In this modern world, with modern dangers, that means a lot of additional things we need to do.
Car seats, seat belts, bike helmets.
Gardasil immunizations.
Condoms.

Like all of my friends , who are also Jewish mothers, I have to make sure my son is safe at college. SO, I bought him a large box of condoms at Costco. Okay, they only have one size at Costco. A package of 40.

When Esther was going off to college, she knew I was planning to buy a box for her. Yes, girls too need to be protected.
This isn’t’ about birth control, it isn’t’ about morality. You can say, “Wait” as many times as you want , but you send off a teenager whose hormones levels are high and they are in a place with thousands of other teenagers with remarkably similar high hormone levels, and if you don’t’ make sure they have something to protect them from STDs, the scariest of which is the HIV virus, then you haven’t done your duty to protect them.
When Gardasil shots first became available for our daughters, I remember discussing getting them , at synagogue, at the Kiddush following services with a table of other Jewish mothers. No one was going to NOT get them for their daughters- it was only a question of which pediatricians were ready to do it , yet.
There was NEVER an issue with any of us about the shot being a sign to our daughters that it was okay to have sex. It was simply an issue of possibly protecting them from a type of cancer.
I was actually shocked when a non-Jewish friend admitted her reluctance to have her 16 year old daughter get the shots, since her daughter might take that as an okay to have sex. I said, “But what if she is ever raped? What if she is a virgin until she gets married, but her husband wasn’t- and he exposes her to it?”
The only part of this you can really control is getting immunized.

Back to condoms.

If they get pregnant, or their girlfriend does, it isn’t necessarily the end of the world. If they get Aids, it sort of is.
Anyhow, Esther came back from her college visit to Binghamton and informed me that I didn’t’ need to buy her any condoms. They have boxes at the ends of the halls in the dorms with free condoms.
Okay, so one less college expense.
So, when I bought the box for Aaron, he was upset. He said, “But, Mom, they have free condoms at the Health Center at college.”
I responded, “Yes, and the Health Center is open Monday through Friday from 9 A.M. to 4 P.M. What happens if you need that condom at 10 PM on a Saturday night?”
So, he took the box I offered him.

One Shabbat, when he was over at his friends’ home, Aaron , somewhere in the middle of a Shabbat conversation, brought up the fact that I had bought him the box of 40. He said he would bring home his unused ones, at the end of the year, for his friends.
This is when he got advice from two other Jewish mothers.
First, from his friends’ Jewish mother, who alerted him to the fact that the box would not last him the school year.”
And ,second, from the father who told him that it would probably not last him until Thanksgiving vacation.
It is always good to get advice from Jewish mothers.

But the best advice he got was from his friend, who also decided to play the role, even though he is just 18- you see, it really is a genetic trait.
His advice was , “No party hat, no party.”

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Story of the Day 8/ 16/ 2009

I am a Jewish mother.
Literally and figuratively.

I mean , I am Jewish and a mother, and I am also often filled with worry about my husband and my kids, and other people’s kids. I can’t help it.
I know that we are made fun of- an entire of genre of jokes is devoted to us. But, don’t’ fool yourself- EVREYONE needs a Jewish mother.
I mean, someone should care about if your flight arrived safely. Someone should care if you are getting over your flu. Someone should make you cookies and your favorite meals. And someone should worry that you have clean underwear and don’t get electrocuted or die in a fire in your sleep.

Unfortunately, many people do not have a Jewish mother to worry about them, but , luckily for my son, he does!

We dropped him off at college, today.
That is a poor description. We had a caravan of vehicles to get him up to college and settled. Which is also a poor description.
There were two cars. Sarah and I in one, with a lot of his luggage, and Larry and Aaron in “Carla”, with the rest of it.
This wasn’t’ really because he had so much stuff. He could have easily enough. Okay, I am lying, not easily, but we could have done it- squeezed all of his crap into one car- Carla, and he could have driven himself up to college.
BUT, Sarah and Larry had never seen his college. And , when Esther went to college, all the way off in upstate New York, we couldn’t’ all easily go and take her. So, my husband drove her up, and then came back alone. A trip that meant taking most of a week off from work.
And I didn’t’ get to see her college until I went to pick her up, that spring. When her freshman year was done.
And, neither Aaron nor Sarah have ever seen her college- because , for those trips, taking them would have meant no room in the car for Esther’s things- or, maybe for Esther….
So, this was really our first chance as a family to drive a kid up to college and drop them off- even tough this kid has his one car- Carla- and he could have done it himself and saved himself the embarrassment of his peers seeing his …family.

So, I drive ahead, trying not to lose Aaron and Larry who is sitting in the shotgun seat of Carla and trying not to cringe as Aaron goes on and off a couple of highways- for the first time I his life.
I was lucky, and I got to drive the other car. This is because I puke when I am the rider.
See, getting car sick does have its advantages! Although, Larry said that Aaron actually did a very good job……….of course, he is comparing him to Esther.
So, we get o the college and have the usual number of mishaps getting to the right building, and then we unload the stuff from eth cars and carry it up…..and find that the room has platform beds with NO rails- and that the beds move easily and are narrow- the twin sized sheets are big on them………width wise. And Aaron is the kid who has been known to roll out of his double bed and land with a thud on the floor, still asleep.
Only , a fall like that….

Years ago, I refused to buy bunk beds- with rails- for my kids. Yes, his friends had them- but there were numerous reports of injuries, even when they had rails, and the percent of kids who ended up in the ER with injuries was big enough that there were articles warning about it.
So, after a real back and forth discussion ( luckily, Sarah took my side, she must have inherited that Jewish mother trait), we moved the mattress down to the floor.

Well, and after moving the desk and the bureau into rather odd places. Because they were under the platform bed- with a walk area between it and the roommates bed.
Other than that there is a standing closet- and a waste basket for each kid- and a small amount of floor space- which has now gotten smaller.
In fact, despite arranging and rearranging to take up as little space as possible, the best we could do was to have Aaron’s small bureau go slightly past the middle of the room in front of the window- in other words, slightly into his roommate’s space.
Which is making al lot us nervous. This is the roommate who wasn’t’ sure it was gonna be okay to room with deaf guy- and also thought that Aaron’s being Jewish was an issue.
Oh yeah, and he has the egg chair, which was gonna be a tight fit in the small room before this………

So, we left Aaron with his rather unconventional room- but with a mother ( and a sister) who was less likely to have a nervous breakdown, but with another potential cause for a roommate “issue”…….

And we drove on home. Well, after fortifying ourselves with milk and coffee .

About 5 minutes after leaving the campus, Larry and Sarah were fast asleep in the car.
Well, okay, I was the only one who had coffee, and I was driving so that was okay. But the alck of conversation gave me time to think…and a few minutes later a really awful thought went through the mind of this Jewish mother.
Thank God we had moved the damned mattress!!!
Aaron is deaf.
Oh, did I mention that already?Anyhow, being deaf means that he needs certain “ adapted” equipment- like a flashing smoke detector.
With his hearing aids on, he can actually hear a regular one But with them off , he can’t. And, guess what? He sleeps with them off.
And sleeps- well, u know how most people wake up to the buzzing from their alarm clock? Or maybe a radio station or CD? Doesn’t’ work if you are deaf.
If you are deaf, there are basically two types of alarms- well 3…we’ll get to #3 in a minute.
But the two most common are the flashing alarm clock- just like the smoke detector, and the bed vibrator.
Well, the flashing one is good for some people, but Aaron has been known to sleep with his blanket over his head, so it didn’t’ work well for him.
And he ended up with a bed vibrator.
The bed vibrators can be used in a couple of ways. You can put the vibrating part under your pillow- this works really well if you head tends to stay on eth pillow. But Aarons’ doesn’t. So, what a lot of people do is to put the vibrator under the mattress.
The platform bed was different than other platform or bunk beds I have seen- although, the importance of that difference wasn’t’ clear in my head until that drive home.
You see, it is wire mesh. Wire mesh with maybe 3 inch holes between ……..this is a guess based on my faulty memory- but not a real small mesh- and Not even very smooth- lots of ends to the wires.
And the vibrating part would have gone between that and the mattress. With lots of places where the metal mesh would press against the wires of the vibrator- the not especially think wires carrying the electric current to the vibrating unit……which could mean, after a bit of pressure from eth mattress, and from the vibrator vibrating ,as well, frayed wires- and a shock - big or small- and a possible fire.
So, I really don’t’ care what the roommate says, the mattress is not going back up there.
Now, I must admit, there is one more type of alarm . Aaron’s clock actually has it. It is a very loud alarm buzzer. On his it is louder than a typical smoke detector . So, theoretically, Aaron could use that, although, I doubt his roommate, as well as several of the kids in neighboring rooms, would like it. It also isn’t really and option, because, we have tried it, and even at 110 db ( I looked his model up on the Sonic Boom website), it doesn’t wake him up. Of course, considering his hearing loss, it isn’t any sort of 110 db to him- it is probably a nice pleasant sort of background noise.

So, Aaron now has a kind of oddly arranged room, but I can sleep at night. Whoops, I mean he can!

Friday, August 14, 2009

Story of teh Day 8/ 11/ 2009

Aaron is worried we are going to miss him, when he is away at college.
He has decided to help us with this by wandering around the house several hours a day singing “I believe I can fly”.
It seems to be working. There must be something special about that combination of that particular song and a deaf person singing it for hours on end.

Story of teh Day 8/ 9/ 2009

On Wednesday, Aaron drove to Cicero.

He went there to meet his new roommate. His college roommate. The guy who will be his roommate in another 10 days.

I went to college in the Dark Ages. Along with the other mail we got from the college- mail that came in envelopes on real paper , the college would send us a note with the name and address of our roommate, and we might write them a letter. This was all done using snail mail. Although, of course, back then no one had heard the term snail mail and it was the ONLY mail.

A 10 minute phone call on a Sunday, the cheapest option , was $3.00 – which, back in 1977, was a lot of money. So, we didn’t’ call, we wrote. And those phone calls took place on phones that were plugged into a wall and connected to the base by means of a spiraling cord that was always getting tangled.. If you had a very long cord, you could pace in a very small area, otherwise you stayed put for the duration of the call, which was carefully timed so as not to waste money. But, as I said, that was a lot of money, so we wrote.

And then we waited and hoped the roommate might write back.

You had to figure 5 days to a week for the letter to get from Ohio to Massachusetts, and just as long for a return letter to come to you- and that was if the roommate answered promptly, if at all.

Nowadays, the kids get a note in the mail with the name and address of the roommate.
Then they go on Facebook and look for them.
37 seconds later, the two of them are deeply enmeshed in a conversation about who is bringing what. Looking at one another’s photos from yesterday and from when they were 6 mos. old, videos and comments from their ex-girlfriends.
Well, except that Aaron and his roommate managed to be playing Facebook tag,- not on-line at the same time, so instant messaging or chatting or whatever it is didn’t happen- instead it was a lot more old fashioned- instant ly delivered notes left for one another. A lot of messages back and forth over a relatively few days…….
And Aaron started to get..nervous.

“Don’t decorate the room before I get there!” (Seriously, Aaron hadn’t picked out any drapes to bring.)

“ Your being deaf might be a problem. I like to talk a lot.” (Yeah, deaf people never communicate with anyone. Also, if this guy really talks as much as he says, it might be good that Aaron can turn off his hearing aids.)

And that was just the beginning.

There was also the insistence on meeting.
Aaron kept trying to put him off, but finally proposed Cicero, after realizing it was roughly half way between them.

So, they met for lunch. At Subway. Home of the $5 tuna foot-long sub.
Believe me, Aaron could easily live on tuna sandwiches and green tea. Foot-long tuna sandwiches and buckets of green tea.
But the roommate suggested they split a foot-long. He had already worked it out to the penny.
Aaron, thinking there might be an issue of the guy not having much money, agreed.
Also, the guy was a head smaller than Aaron and thin. Maybe he really didn’t’ put away as much food as we all do on a regular basis.
So, Aaron politely agreed to split it, knowing that he would be hungry half-an hour later. He just didn’t’ realize that he would still be there half and hour later, and an hour later, as the roommate took very slow small bites from the half-sandwich and carefully wiped his mouth slowly with a napkin after each bite.

That, and the roommate had a list of things he wanted to discuss. Or, perhaps, clarify is the better term.

He asked Aaron how he felt about sharing.
Aaron thought a second, not sure what he meant, then answered, “Well, I am bringing a fridge, and I don’t’ mind sharing that or drinks I put in it. But I know some girls share clothes, and I don’t’ feel comfortable doing that.” Plus, as Aaron told me, the guy would be too small for his clothes, anyhow.

The roommate then said, “Have you see Men in Black ( movie)?
“You know the egg chair? Well , I have one of those, and I am bringing it, and it is very important to me.
“And I don’t’ want you to sit in it, because I will get very upset.”
To which Aaron replied, “oh, okay.”

On Saturday, at his friends’ house, he recounted this story.
The oldest son, who is 20, and home from Yeshivah told Aaron that he was planning on coming to visit Aaron at his college.
When the roommate is out, he will take off his clothes, except for a nice cowboy hat, and sit in the chair. And when the roommate comes in, will merrily greet him with a “Howdy.”

So, after Aaron told me I could type up this story, he calmly told me that there will probably be a part 2. And possibly even apart 3.

I can’t wait.

Friday, August 7, 2009

Story of teh Day 8/ 1 / 2009

At lunch , when I signed something to her, Sarah told me, “You learned that from a Hearing person!”

Ouch!

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Story of the Day 7/ 31/ 2009

“Mom, can you still donate blood if you smoke pot?”

I am sure that all 18 year olds ask their mothers questions like this. Right?
“I think so.”

“Well, E…, told me he can’t donate blood because he smokes pot.”
“I think he can, but you can ask, when we get there.”

Aaron and I were driving to the Blood Center to donate.
Okay, Aaron and Sarah and I were. Aaron to donate, me to try to donate, and Sarah to get some pop while watching the whole thing.

I recently counted. In the last 13 times I have been to the Blood Center, I have been able to donate twice. That is a new all time low for me. That is despite taking iron tablets at bedtime, somewhat religiously..….Well, when I don’t’ forget. And avoiding caffeine and a lot of liquids in the 24 hours before trying to donate, and taking a short brisk walk before going into the Blood Center. And chanting “Hemoglobin, Hemoglobin” in a little sing-songy voice, as they draw my blood.
Okay, not the last one.
I haven’t yet tried to switch blood samples, though. At least not yet.

They take us in to question us separately.
This is to preserve confidentiality.
Of course, with us, that makes very little sense.
One of the first times I went with Aaron, he came out of the cubical where he was questioned, his blood was drawn to make sure he wasn’t anemic and his blood pressure and temp were measured and he said, “Hey, Mom, they asked me if I had sex with any males since 1975. And I wasn’t’ even born then.”
Like, out loud, like to everyone.
Personally? I fid it endearing, but I think our visits give them palpitations.

So, they took him off to his little cubicle and I went off to mine.
While the lady was taking my blood pressure, I started worrying, maybe Aaron had forgotten to ask. Oddly, I didn’t’ worry about his not asking because he might feel intimidated.

“Can you donate blood if you smoke pot?”
She thought a moment. “Well, they don’t’ ask any questions about that, so I bet you can.”
A few moments later, I was sitting out in the hallway waiting for my blood to spin and for them to tell me that I was just a little anemic…..
When Aaron comes and joins me.
I tell him, “I asked the lady, and she said she thinks you can give blood if you smoke pot.”
My son thinks this is very interesting, since it goes into your bloodstream. He wants to know if this has an effect on the patient who gets the blood.

I tell him, probably. But I didn’t’ think they would complain.
And Aaron tells me that he did ask. All three of them.
Three?

He had a technician with two trainees. According to Aaron, the technician supervising the trainees “working” on him got all huffy and said, “Well, I don’t know and I have never smoked anything in my life!”
I told Aaron to ignore him and take the information I was given.

The postscript is that when the technician came out and told me I could donate; I got up and did a little celebratory dance.
Hey, didn’t embarrass the people I was with.
Well, maybe a little. But no more than usual, at any rate.

We left a few ounces of blood lighter, with coupons for free pork sandwiches at the State Fair ( and trying to figure whom we can pawn them off on) and with a copy of Indianapolis Woman. The very same magazine we had been searching the city for, two days earlier.
And maybe I did embarrass my kids a bit when I went and asked the receptionist if we could take it…but only a bit.
(Incidentally, it is a free publication that is available at the grocery stores and pharmacies, but we had missed this month’s issue. The one that we belatedly found out featured a WNBA player.)

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Story of teh Day 7/ 30/ 2009

Tishe B’Av is a day of mourning. We don’t’ eat, or drink anything, we don’t’ listen to music, we don’t wear leather shoes. During services , we sit on the floor.
There are services in the evening, and also the next day.

I am a one time person, but Larry and our son Aaron went to services on Tishe B’Av day.
Itamar, who acts as rabbi at our synagogue, was there and Aaron went up to him and shook his hand.

He said, “Aaron, we don’t’ say ‘Hi’ on Tishe B’Av.”
This is because we do not give “greetings” when we are mourning.
Aaron responded, “But I didn’t say, anything.”
“Hey, you can’t hear, I can. "

Aaron didn’t’ say anything to this.

He should have said, “That’s right, I don’t’ hear all the voices that you hear.”