When was the last time you wrote something by hand?

Today I had a meeting with Matthew's teacher(s). Now that they have been going to school for over two months, he has brought home glowing reports twice. But his teachers and his parents (all three of us) agreed that we had to address some issues.

Matthew and Justin were preemies, Justin was the smaller one. He also suffered a stroke shortly after birth that resulted in some mild CP and he has an unrelated hearing loss, which was corrected with aids from 4 months of age and surgically at 2 and 3 years of age. He received services at the Pető Institute and conductors in region (here is an article about an American family that came out to Pető) from birth, and his speech-language-hearing training began at the same time he received his first hearing aids. Through the years he qualified for fewer and fewer services, and he has always been in mainstream education. After our move to Budapest he attended a Jewish pre-school where the alefbet was taught early on, and he learnt to read both Hungarian and English to 1st and 2nd grade level when he was 5.

My kid excells in reading and math. He behaves really well. He participates in class work and he religiously uses his hearing aids--he only needs them in the classroom--so he won't miss anything. He loves talking about his Krav Maga and dance classes, both of which he loves, even if he is not the best dancer out there. He has also improved socially and he loves, loves, LOVES school.

But... yes, you knew there was a but. Matthew has major trouble using a pencil. After two months he still can't draw a straight standing line with a decent sized pencil. Well, mostly any pencil. He has major trouble holding one for long, as his hand starts to cramp, stiffen and just generally... it's torture for him. He can read cursive, he can fingerpaint letters, it's not that he doesn't know them. He just can't WRITE them.

We keep working on his hand muscles, and yes, the idea of using his other hand has come up - Matthew is left dominant; actually he is so left dominant that his heart is on the right side. :-D But that really is not an option at this point, as his right hand is a LOT more spastic than his left.

His teacher is very concerned abiut his inability to write. Yet when I asked her when it was the last time she wrote something by hand that wasn't for her class, she started to think. Yeah, exctly my point. My kid can type. He types way better than I do. He will eventually learn to write. It will take time. And it will take a lot of work. I hope, I pray that we will get some good pointers in Budapest later this month.

The Littlest Celebrity Chef

Even though I have three boys, my kids have a super cute and totally kosher toy kitchen. What happened was that last year the twins told both the grandparents and several uncles that they wanted a toy kitchen for their birthdays. They even told them which one - after looking through countless ads they found one that was not expensive at all and had a good price/value ratio - and they both happaned to get one. Instead of taking one back to exchange it, they were quickly divided into "meat" and "dairy" kitchens. Since then any extra kitchen appliences have to come in twos. The kids love playing with them, and, when given the chance, they love doing the washing up in a cute, bright yellow washbasin, using home made dish soap. They also love to "play" in the kitchen: they do help a lot, and they cook their own creations at least weekly.

Now that Matthew was home with the flu, he was "cooking" for his collection of stuffed animals, all the while explaining to an imaginary audience what he was doing and why, all the while imitating all the facial expressions, if not the lisp, of Jamie Oliver. A little bit later I heard him have a little cooking competition with his teddy bear Gordon Ramsay style. It only took another day before a slightly misspelt "River Cotedge" sign appeared on their door. When I asked him what he was serving to the toys, I was told the menu contained risotto, filet mignon and chocolate mousse. The neyt day saw some Vietnamese specialities added, including cobra meat.

On Friday Matthew brought me a notebook. It had his scribbling and photos cut out of a ladies' magazine or various foods. I asked him what it was, and he said, "This is my first cookbook! Based on my TV show!"

A game of Activity

At least once every week some of my siblings and our families meet up for game night. Our game of choice is Activity, a game that is the love child of Charades, Pictionary and angsty teenage poetry. Two or more teams play against each other, and since there are enough of us, we have a game master as well. There are various things that need to be found out. They are written on small cards, with a small clue, such as "Title" or "Person" or "Verb" and the method of giving clues to your team is dtermined by a small spin. It can be pantomime, drawing or rhyming. When we play the prize is always a plate of cookies, which are always shared between all the players.

One time we were playing at my brother Chalin's and my brother Efi was the game master, so he was the one to provide that day's assignments. With one little card in hand, Chalin went to the white board and drew the picture on the left (ok, so this was later redone on paper). Without further ado my lovely 6-year-old shouted "A-ba-ni-bi!"

The game stopped there, because it just turned into laughter intermixed with more Eurosong singing, including a performance of Dana International's Diva.

Multiply and...

Multiply and replenish the earth do basic math. At least that is what Matthew and I ended up doing today.

A couple of days ago I mentioned an incident when my 6-year-old proved to be better at math than whoever is in charge of coming up with prices for McDonald's. What surprised me most at that time was that my son was doing multiplications with three-digit numbers in his head. I didn't even know he could multiply.

Now I don't remember when I was learning multiplication, but I know that in Hungary they learn it in the second semester of second grade, and then they do two and three digits in third grade. At that point they are pretty much able to multiply any whole number with any other whole number (decimals come in 5th grade, I think--Craig was doing them while we still lived there).

Thinking that the McDonald's incident was pure luck or my kid counting it out in some weird way, i started to quiz him on multiplication, and it went fine, he seemed to know the whole multiplication table (Hungarian style, up to 10x10) and he could figure out multiple digit numbers if they were multiplied by single digit ones. He explained how he did it--multiplied the ones, then the tens and then the hundreds and added them all up--and I have to admit I was blown away by it. Soon enough I figured out how he learnt the multiplication table in the first place, after figuring the concept out for himself.

It was the old pencil case he inherited from Craig. On the back of it the multiplication table was written out in bright pink. And my supposedly-on-the-spectrum 5-year-old memorized it. And is able to apply it.

Seriously, I am so proud of him.

Sneezy

No, we don't do Disney's Snow White here.

I just have Matthew home, as he is coughing, sneezing and has a runny nose. No fever. But there is the swine flu paranoia, so we were advised to take him to the ped, and to keep him home from school.

Since Matthew tends to sneeze and cough himself through the winter/rainy season, this shall be an interesting school year, especially if he misses school neither Kevin nor I master the language enough to actually help him with school work. Plus, due to the ear situation--another surgery scheduled in the beginning of December--he will miss school for really being sick.

Before anyone suggests giving him anti cold medicine, no, that's not going to happen. There are a myriad of reasons for that, not the least is that they don't seem to work for him.

Right now Mr. Sneezy is making peanutbutter cookies at his Aunt's. At least his brothers will benefit from having to keep Matthew home.

Conversations with my sons Vol. 2: Mathematics

A few weeks ago in Budapest:

Matthew: Dad, How much does a 4 ct box of cicken nuggets cost at McD?
Me: HUF 230 and that includes the sauce.
Matthew: And how much does a 6 ct cost?
Me: HUF 620 with the sauce.
(About two minutes later.)
Matthew: So I can get 6 pieces and a sauce for HUF 620 or 12 pieces with 3 sauces for 690?
Me: Exactly.
Matthew: So how stupid do you have to be to buy the 6 piece one?

Shalom Kitah Alef - the compulsory first day of school post

Today was my 6-year-old sons' first day of school, and my 10-year-old son's first day of junior high.

Since Craig's school had a welcoming the new students thingy last night--where, as some of you might be pleased to know, the school uniform drama was peacefully resolved--this morning we just dropped him off and he had a non-ceremonial first day. Non-ceremonial as far as parents are involved. He had his first ever Arabic class, and he had a blast. One of his greatest news for the day: "Dad, I'm not the shortest kid in class!" Which with him being about 2 years younger than most of his class is great news. He also had his first PE class of the year, and he was excited that they will do track and gymnastics alike. He told his PE teacher about the CI, and it seems it will work out better than with the previous school. He also got to pick his own seat in te class, next to one of his friends, in a place that is good for him. His friend is good about helping him, and his teachers are already aware of what's gonna happen. He loves it already.

After dropping craig off, it was time to take the twins to school. As soon as I stopped the car, the kids jumped out with a "Bye, Dad!" and took off for the school. Kevin had to run after them so they'd wait for us. You see, they have attended nursery school/pre-school/gan since they were 6 months old. It's the same thing, just a different place, they figured.

Every 1st grader was met by a 6th or 5th grader at the gate, handing out balloons, name tags, a school hat and a school scarf for the new kids. These older kids stayed with their new "buddy" for most of the morning, and they will continue to mentor them during the first weeks. I thought that was a lovely idea. There was a nice little show, though no clown (my kids were really expecting one, as there was one last year at the gan), and then the parents were invited to go to class with the kids and stay for a little while. We were kicked out after about an hour, and then the serious work began. So serious, that both boys brough homework home: they had to convince their parents to write their names in all their clothes and stuff.

And this turned into a first for me: writing my sons' names in Hebrew for the very first time. :-) In permanent marker. On their sneakers.

There is no after school care for the twins this week, so as I had an emergency at work I had to pick them up and bring them in to the office. Where their doting grandfather, who happens to be my iron-fisted father (Hi Dad!) he let the kids watch [Scrubs] and The Simpsons on one of the spare computers. He even let them play with the label maker! Scandalous! (Hi Dad, again!)

Since this is a compulsory first day of school post, here is a compulsory school related song for all Hungarian speakers. And for those who don't speak Hungarian: mementos from a school child's life in the 80's in Hungary. I'm sure Ramona will be able to relate to some of this!

Scrubbing those memories

The last couple of evenings my friend Nathan and I have been spending the evenings, after we put the boys to bed, out in the courtyard, with a cold drink in hand, talking about things from more than twenty years ago.

Nathan and I met some 22 years ago at a pediatric oncology unit. We have a lot of things we can only talk about with others who went through these things with us. There are things that only people who share a similar experience with us. So it's the four of us in the dark courtyard: Nathan, Kevin, Efi and I talking the cancer out of our minds.

Sooner or later someone will bring something else up, and then we go off on tangents, ("Do you guys remember when Miss Piggie was on Scrubs?" or "The rabbit Seán has? Yeah, it had a gazillion bunnies.") and we cope and truly, truly rejoice in the simple fact that we are alive. And that is such a lovely thing to rejoice in!

Today all but one of the boys went to Tzfat. Matthew stayed home with a "stomach ache" that mysteriously disappeared about 5 minutes after his dad and the others were out the door. The mean parent I am I asked him if he wanted me to text them to turn back for him. You should have seen his face as he mouthed "NO way!" It was too funny. So this morning was spent in the kiddie pool and on the balcony reading Pöttyös Panni. He is halfway done with the one about Panni starting school. Since the twins are starting kitah alef (first grade--in Israel gan is not part of the school system like kindergarten in the States, so they are just starting school, like Panni in the book) this is the most revelant book to him. Forget that it was written in the 50s (I think), and it is full of Soviet-Hungarian friendship, but most everything Panni is experiencing, thinking and feeling is the same as what Matthew does. We have the whole series and the kids have been able to read them on their own for about a year now.

After lunch and a short nap Matthew went and popped [scrubs] season 8 in the DVD player (courtesy of Nathan andMicah) and we watched it together as I was tinkering with a website online. It was a few weeks ago that I last watched the final scenes of the show and it is one of Matthew's favorite ones. This is one scene that he loves and it makes him happy, because JD is happy in his fantasy.

Most of the time when watching [scrubs] my kids get some of the jokes. Others go over their heads, and they don't miss them. They understand more of the show than I oroginally thought they would, but then there are a lot of things that are discussed in our home a lot, like love, life, death, intimacy and relationships. I just can't keep my kids sheltered from the world. The thing is, at their age they see things a lot more clearly than us, adults.

As we were watching the last episode, my son announced that he wanted a High School Musical 3 binder for school. I have to admit it left me speechless: I didn't even know my kids had seen High School Musical 3! Not having that knowledge made me feel way worse than letting my kids watch [scrubs] or CSI. I guess it could have been worse: he could have wanted a Hannah Montana or Jonas Brothers one. So I could consider myself lucky. But I had to stop this HSM3 fanboyness--what's next, a sparkling Twilight backpack? So I decided to bribe him with some home made [scrubs] binder. It only took a little convincing and throwing a Grissom picture in to add to the offer to get HSM3 out of his potential school bag.

Now, to make the full circle back to the conversations mentioned at the beginning of this post: a lot of these conversations are about the loss of people we met and became friends with during chemo and other treatments. There were a lot of them. It was back in the 80s: mortality was somewhat higher back then. As Matthew re-watched the last episode of the show again, I was YouTube surfing, watching and re-watching clips from my two other favourite episodes: My Lunch and My Screw Up.

Both of these deal with death. Both of them are really sad, and they make me sad, but in a cathartic way. I can't really express the way they make me feel. Other than the second one, My Screw Up--especially the scene I embedded here--makes me remember my friend Stuart and I want to always, always remember him.

As I was watching the video once again while writing this entry Nathan, Kevin and Efi ended up sitting down next to me, watching it with me. It was cheesy. It was cliché. But it was true:
But in the end, the most important thing to accept, is that no matter how alone you feel, how painful it may be, with the help of those around you, you'll get through this too.

A blogger in the making

After the weekly kick off meeting I looked at Facebook and I found a note by my 6-year-old about his day. It's reproduced here for posterity:

I am in America now. Yesterday was inedependance day. It was like a holiday in Israel. We had a barbacue. We swam in Grandpa's pool. Grandpa bought soda pop. It wasn't kosher. Craig drank water. Grandpa made cheeseburger and chili dogs. The chili was hot. There were fireworks. The Budapest fireworks were better. This was short.

It's midnight now but I'm not sleepy. Mom sais I have to go to bed.

Now seriously, the kid needs a blog.

Happy 2009

2009 is starting really well! As of tomorrow Matthew will be treated as outpatient, and Efi is being released to outpatient care as well. They are both very excited about it, and so am I!

Yesterday my brother Simeon and his wife Alissa (yes, the one with whom they separated earlier this year), hosted the annual Novi God celebration at their home. Most of my other siblings showed up with their kids, so there were 26 kids and 14 adults, with a special visit from Ded Moroz himself. Ded Moroz sounded an awfully lot like Anton Avramovich, Alissa’s father! I was super surprised to hear my two youngest ones converse with him in some basic Russian. Of course, this is what happens when your kids are babysat by their Russian aunt a lot! I am actually very happy about it, and it confirms my suspicion that my kids got their affinity for languages from me, rather than from their mother. Now only if I could get them to learn another Western language! Though if Efi gets his way, my kids will be fluent in Arabic by the time they are teenagers.

In addition to the insane amount of individually wrapped Russian candy that my kids consumed–they wer edisplayed all around the place in nice baskets, and I’m talking about at least 25 lbs of candy here–we stuffed ourselves on pirozhki and some festive Russian cakes. Some of the adults shared some vodka (Kalinka, Szlava ajánlásával… Na nem, annál jobb volt!) and we had good Russian tea from a real samovar.

My kiddos had a lot of fun, they all got all kinds of presents, including a bunch of books that they inherited from their older cousins. Matthew is just starting to read Hebrew, and he prefers books he has already read in English or Hungarian, so his cousins’ now out of print books really help.

I thought I should mention

…that all three of my kids are now enrolled at Krav Maga classes. The neurologist suggested we enroll Matthew in some kind of martial arts classes as they help with balance, utilize the plasticity of the brain and a billion other things, so we started to look in to classes. First we were looking at judo but really, the only classeswe found that were affordable, close enough and sans Eastern philosophies and/or mysticism was Israel’s very own Krav Maga. (Of course my kids always point out that Imi Sde-Or was born in Budapest, just like them.)

Yeah, so piano and Krav Maga. That’s all.