The Po Show

Gifts

You know how there are terrifying moments when you, for absolutely no reason, are suddenly gripped with the fear that something terrible has happened to your sleeping baby? I did this all the time with Matthew when he was an infant, once practically sticking my fingers up his nose to make sure he was breathing (part of this came from the fact that he slept so little, so when he did sleep for an appreciable amount of time, I was wracked by fear that he'd died of SIDS).

This is another recent February Break story. There was one morning during the vacation week that Tessa slept in really late, like till almost 10:00. My children do not sleep late. Matthew is up around 6:00AM almost every morning, and it's rare for him to sleep past 7:00. Tessa sleeps later, but very rarely past 8:30. But for whatever reason, she slept late that morning. I bustled about as usual; Matthew and I both had breakfast and I cleaned the kitchen and did other random stuff. And as it got later and later, I was suddenly struck by the fear that she was not going to wake up, that she was dead.

Of course I knew that that was silly and improbable. But I flashed on the scene in "Mask" in which Cher's character goes into her son's bedroom to wake him up in the morning and the moment she walks in, she knows, she knows, that he's died in his sleep. Her eyes fill with tears, but she still goes through the motions of telling him to get up and opening the window shades. But then she touches him, and it's confirmed, and she gathers him in her arms and rocks him and tells him that now he'll have no more pain.

So I went into Tessa's bedroom and looked at her, asleep under her covers, with her porcelain skin and her raven hair and the beautiful long lashes of her closed eyes. She was still. I waited. And then I saw the rise and fall of her breathing under her Hello Kitty comforter. I walked out feeling sort of stupid, but strangely reprieved.

You see, from the time she was born, I always said that somehow I couldn't believe that she was given to us, that she was ours and that we got to keep her. She seemed too good to be true. It's inexplicable to me, since with all that it took for Matthew to be born, I should have felt that way about him. Yet while Matthew struck me as a miracle, Tessa felt like a gift. Something you hope for and dream of, but are somehow surprised that you actually receive.

That morning, I felt like I'd been given the gift of Tessa all over again, if only in my own mind.

Valentine's Day Redux

Oh, so many good stories, so little time. I've been wanting to write this one down for, well, since Valentine's Day, and it's March now. February Break intervened, and then we had Snowicane '10, and today I finally have ten minutes free. (Maybe yesterday I would have had ten minutes to spare, but Matthew's school ended up closing because they had no heat!)

Anyway, since Valentine's Day (I just can't abbreviate that to VD) fell on a Sunday this year, the kids had their school celebrations on the Friday before, which was also the last day before February Break. Tessa had made cards for all of her classmates, and not just a simple "To" and "From" on a piece of paper, but heart-shaped construction paper pockets filled with candy, and with a handmade Shrinky Dink affixed to each one. For 22 kids. Plus she made her teacher a notepad. Needless to say, this took a long time.

As a Valentine's Day fundraiser at her school, the fourth graders sell stuffed animals, pencils, and silk flowers, which are delivered to the recipients in each class. They used to sell candy as well, but I guess someone put the kibosh on that. Tessa filled out her form, sending stuffed animals to her best friends. She folded the form up tightly, asked me to include a check for $9.00, but to PLEASE NOT LOOK at the form, particularly the name written on the fourth line. I was annoyed, saying that I can't look at it, but I get to pay for it? She pleaded further, and I figured she was sending something to a boy and was embarrassed, so I let it go.

For Matthew's classmates and teachers, we bought pre-made cards from Target that held Pixie Stix, and then added an extra fun-size pack of candy. This was a step down from last year, when I went *insane* and spent $60 on candy and made these ridiculously enormous bags for each kid. I was trying to reciprocate for all the amazing goody bags Matthew had brought home in celebration of other kids' birthdays. I later found out that the teachers assemble these goody bags, not the kids' parents. Oops.

Since he only has nine other kids in his class (plus three teachers, the unit director, and his therapist), Matthew was done pretty quickly. Then he decided to make a card for Ana, a girl in one of the other classes to whom he's taken a liking. She's also 12, and this is her first year at Clear View. She is also from White Plains, and is actually on Matthew's bus, so they sit next to each other every day. As Matthew describes her, "She's really nice. I don't even know why she's here [at the school]!" For Ana, Matthew chose a card that read "You're My Sweetie," which I found amusing.

When Matthew returned home after school on Friday, he was carrying a foil-wrapped paper plate. On it was a large, very elaborately decorated cookie. It was from Ana, whose class had baked cookies that day. Each kid made one cookie and decorated it. Ana chose to give hers to Matthew. She also gave him a HUGE (I'm talking, over two feet tall) handmade card, with dancing hearts drawn inside. I found this sort of poignant. I knew that he was smitten with her, as I'd had some stories related to me from his therapist about their interactions during free time, when kids from different classes can play board games and such together. But I didn't realize that it appears to be mutual. It made me happy, to think he may really have girlfriends in the future, that someone may love him. This has worried me, through all the years that he had so much trouble with girls at school thinking he was a freak. It also made me want to cry, to think that he really is growing up. But mostly, I was happy that he was happy. He ate the whole cookie.

Oh, and the mystery recipient of Tessa's gift, the one I wasn't allowed to know about? It was me. She presented me with a pink silk rose as I picked her up from school. It's nice to know that as one child seems to be growing a bit more up and away, the other still considers me her valentine.