Melissa Anne Cohen

Got my homeschool approval letter today, and suddenly, all my angst went away. The decision is made, it’s happening. I realized that it’s going to be fine. She’s literally already testing into sixth grade, if I do nothing, and she exists in a vacuum, absorbing nothing until I put her back in, she’d be good to go. I’ve got a complete 5th grade math curriculum, complete with a totally proficient and excited older sister who will teach it to her. I’ve got English and science grade level workbooks, and so much history stuff that it threatens to take over everything else she’s studying.

It’s going to be just fine.

I’m still planning on putting her back into public school when it’s safe to do so. But until then, this girl will be perfectly well educated at home.

So far, homeschooling Julie has not been a stunning success.

I loved the Build Your Library curriculum. Loved it. A whole curriculum designed around books – what could go wrong there? Oh yeah – if you don’t like reading, and you especially don’t like people reading to you, then Build Your Library is just a recipe for unhappiness. Which we learned the hard way.

She is all set for math. I had a bunch of textbooks for fifth grade math that I had gotten when Sam’s special ed teacher was leaving Gates Lane, so I ordered a workbook that came pretty highly recommended. Sarah is home this semester, so she’s going to take over teaching her math a few days a week.

I also ordered a work book for ELA and science. I’ll supplement with khan academy and youtube and whatever else I can cobble together. History, I’m going to follow the BYL curriculum and the state standards.

This’ll be okay. It will. It’s only fifth grade, and she’s a bright kid. As long as she’s learning and challenged, it’ll be good.

Please, let it be good. I hate this so much. I love homeschooling Sam because it was the right thing for him. He hates public school, he loves doing it at home with me. Julie wants desperately to be in school with her friends. She wants teachers and lining up and recess and lunch time. She wants her life pre-covid 19. And I can’t give her that.

She understands and she knows that this is the best choice for her. I think the absolute best choice would have been on-line public school, like Sam, but we missed the boat on that one. The wait list is crazy long, and while Worcester is providing online school, it’s zoom school, where she’d have to be online at the same time every day, and all day. Or most of the day. She’d be miserable.

I know that I can provide her with the education she needs. I know that what she really needs is to be able to go back to public school with her friends, and I can’t give her that. But hopefully, I can find a way to keep her challenged and engaged and learning until we can all go back to normal.

So this is happening.

Marc is back to work, and working at home. Which is fantastic, because he’s HERE, and not out catching covid-19. Plus he’s just here – available for chatting or a quick kiss or coffee prep every afternoon. Jessie has two more weeks on her Fellowship, and today is her first day working from our house, as opposed to trekking to my mother’s house.

I’m 99% sure that the two girls will be doing remote school this fall. My only hesitation is my Julie. I think she needs to be in school, even if it’s just for the one day, for her mental health. It’ll allow her to have a connection to her teacher, have some accountability to another adult, and maybe allow her to have a little bit of her life not be centered around the living room.

But then I read scary stories about camps in GA where 260 of the less than 400 kids came down with covid in a week or two. And articles from Arizona from a superintendant who’s already lost one teacher, has eight others under quarantine because they tested positive – and that’s in a school where there were no kids – they were just teaching over zoom in a large classroom with plenty of space and all the safety precautions imaginable.

I’m hoping for treatment, I’m hoping for a vaccine, and mostly, I’m just hoping that we all stay safe and don’t get sick.

I’m not really a helicopter parent. I’m not. I encourage my kids to go outside, to play independently. I’m happy to actively advocate for my kids, but as Jessie got older, I stepped back more and more. I talk to her teachers once a year, on Open House night, and she completely manages her own academic career. She makes her own decisions about clothes, about a social life, about seeking out Fellowships and internships. I encouraged her to visit her sisters at college, to go to college parties, and told her that if she wanted to try drinking, it was okay with me, as long as her sisters were there, she limited it to one and was careful. She manages her own money, found her own job, and buys her own clothes.

Jessie is fiercely independent and I love that about her. I respect her. I trust that she’s old enough, and mature enough to make her own decisions about her life. She’s in charge of her college search, making her own choices about what classes to take, which teachers to approach for recommendation letters, and manages her own distance learning.

Which is why I was so surprised when she told me that I was a helicopter parent when it comes to doctors. I make all the appointments, talk to all the doctors and chase down the referrals. I don’t entirely trust her to advocate for herself, to be honest with the doctor about symptoms that don’t seem all that significant to her, but might well be indicative of a serious problem. She’s got celiac disease, and has been dealing with a lot of joint pain and major fatigue. So when a routine ANA test came back positive, I jumped into mom mode. I called three different hospitals, and begged for an appointment before her Fellowship started. It took two days, and multiple calls all over the place, but I got her a tele-health appointment with a pediatric rheumatologist out in Boston.

I got the requested blood work, brought it down to her pediatrician so that it would be ordered out of her office and then made sure they added in a celiac test. Brought her in for the blood work, but on the way home, she asked me to please let her manage the process from here on out. She wants to be the one calling for the results, making sure that the results are sent to the doctor in Boston. I can be in the car, I can provide suggestions and helpful tips – but she wants to be the one driving. As she put it – it’s a lot easier on her when I do it, and she knows that I’d rather be the one in charge, but if she doesn’t start, she’s never going to know how to make her own appointments, how to advocate for herself.

She made so much damn sense, I had to agree. I had to really acknowledge that as much as I think I’m a free-range, laid back and trusting parent, raising a kid who knows she’s capable and can talk to me about anything – I’m a complete control freak when it comes to medical issues. I like to know exactly what’s going on with my kids, to ask the questions that might not occur to them, to know what to watch out for, what to worry about, and what’s no big deal.

I think any parent who’s had a kid in the PICU is going to be a little extra when it comes to medical issues. Jessie’s issues aren’t life threatening, but there’s a lot more than I ever dealt with at her age.

We compromised. She’s making all the calls, and doing the vast majority of the talking. But I still get access to her on-line medical records and can check and double check and obsess over results to my heart’s content.

This letting-go process isn’t easy, and I’m not at all sure that I like it. Turns out I’m fine with letting her grow up when it means picking AP classes, talking to her teachers, even taking the T to get around in Boston. But letting her be in charge of her own healthcare feels like an impossible ask. But ask she did, and so I’ll try. I’ll honestly try.

And selfishly be grateful that Sam’s just as happy to let me do all the talking to all the doctors. Forever. And Julie’s still too little to fight me on it.

So this is what we’re doing now.

Poker.

Right now, I’m sitting in my spot – this one remaining piece from a sectional where every other part of the couch has been destroyed to the point where we threw them out. So I sit in this one section, the corner piece, that I’ve crammed in between a hand-me-down couch and a futon that I have unfolded and spread a sleeping bag on it for the coolness.

And I’m sitting here, watching Marc teach the kids poker. Only the way he teaches them poker is by swearing a lot and sharing drinking and gambling storiesi from his past. Julie appears to be some sort of poker savant, because she’s an accomplished bluffer, and for the second time, the whole table erupted into swearing and yelling as the tiniest member of the game kicked everyone’s ass. Again.

There is an alarming amount of profanity.

We found out today that Sam is allergic to everything. Grasses, weeds, ragweed, oak trees, cats, dogs, dust mites. For the past 14 years, I’ve been nagging him to go outside and play, and he’s desperately allergic to all of it. We bought an air purifier, an allergenic mattress and pillow case cover. I’m more than halfway convinced that his abdominal issues are caused by constant and unending allergies, and am now not sure if we should see an allergist, go back to his gastroenterologist or just call his pediatrician and throw myself at her, begging for guidance.

I also have to take Jessie into the doctor’s office tomorrow, because I think she’s developing carpal tunnel syndrome. Four months of remote learning, summer work for four AP’s and an upcoming fellowship at the Federal Courthouse is not a good combination for my girl.

Julie is drifting through the longest summer vacation ever. I’m the most concerned about her for the upcoming year. Lilli is moving to Boston and Emerson will be mostly back to normal. Sarah’s college hasn’t made any final decisions yet, but she’s resigned herself to potentially having the fall semester at home. Jessie is going into her senior year, and honestly, she likes working from home just as well. Sam is going to continue with TECCA, and while there will definitely be some changes, we have to get his IEP up and running and he’s going to be in charge of his education. At least a little bit.

But Julie – oh, I worry about Julie. Will schools reopen? Will they be safe enough for her to go? Her fifth grade year is entirely up in the air. I could pull her out and homeschool her. So we wait, hoping against hope that the school department (which failed so badly at trying to come up with something for March-June) will magically come up with the perfect compromise between being in the classroom and being safe.

All told, it’ll be close to four months that we have been doing this. Quarantine, social distancing, covid-19-ing. Marc’s scheduled to go back to work on July 7, and we started this on March 13. That’s a long time to be basically at home, 24/7, all five of us.

The nice thing was that it was (and is, because we’ve got a few weeks to go) just… nice. Everyone basically likes each other, Jessie and Julie didn’t kill each other, I didn’t lose my mind listening to them battle and brawl. Sam finished up a normal school year, Julie started unschooling in March, and Jessie embarked on nearly independent study course of her junior year. Marc taught himself Hebrew, designed and ran two different dungeons and dragons groups, and lost a bunch of weight because he’s walking nearly 24 miles a week.

I crocheted a blanket and a half. I mean, I’m sure I accomplished other tasks – but mainly, I tried to keep the girls from killing each other, tried to keep the house clean, and crocheted. I read a lot.

Jessie starts her fellowship in a few weeks (the same week Marc starts back to work), and after that, things are going to kick in high gear. I’ll have both of them out of the house (if Jessie isn’t in Boston, I’ll ship her to my mother’s for quiet), and just my two little ones. And of those two little ones – ONE IS GOING TO BE 14.

I’m going to stop there, because the idea of Sammy being 14 is a lot to process.

Two and a half months into quarantine, self isolating and social distancing. The end is in sight, at least for this first part. Marc is going back to work at some point – he’s been in contact with his boss, and they’re hoping to start back up in two weeks. Not sure if that means Marc will be back to work in two weeks, but at least it’s a sign that hopefully by the end of the summer, he should be back to something resembling normalacy. No idea what normalacy is going to look like in the age of covid-19, and I’m still pretty sure that we’re going to have a rough fall…

Jessie got the Nelson Fellowship, and there’s talk of it actually taking place, partially, maybe, in Boston as opposed to on her computer. She wants to ride the train in, and I’m terrified of it. Marc’s more concerned about her being in the courthouse, and less worried about the train – so we’ll discuss and debate and come to a decision together. At 17, she’s certainly old enough to be a huge part of this discussion – and reality is that I know she’s capable of doing everything right and taking all the precautions. But you can do everything right, take all the precautions and still get sick.

We’re spinning from covid-19 into protests and the news coverage I listen to in the mornings has shifted from reporting deaths from coronavirus to riots and police brutality. I can’t keep up with it – and I certainly can’t figure out how to explain it to my kids. Julie just wants to go back to school and Sam was already pretty sure that the world is dangerous and scary and he’s better off at home. Everything that’s happened in the past two and a half months has served only to reinforce that.

We’re in this odd holding pattern, on the cusp of everything. Buying a house, sending Jessie off to college, starting Sam’s orientation and mobility and more independence in terms of education. Julie’s starting fifth grade, which I’m refusing to think about because it’s not possible that my baby is going into fifth grade.

But everything feels tentative and like we’re waiting.

That’s just where we live now.

I’m not unaware of how much better we have it than others. We’re not financially struggling to put a roof over our heads or food on the table. We’re all healthy. We all like each other, so spending vast amounts of time together is lovely and not a hardship.

But there is so much that we just don’t know. And not being able to count on those things that we used to be able to rely on is tricky. Will Marc go back to work this summer? Will colleges go back in the fall? Will Jessie get to go to her Fellowship this summer? Will fifth grade just be another lost year for Julie?

I think Lizzie has a UTI. Yesterday, I happened to glance down at her while she went pee, and it was red. Which is terrifying, but it only happened once. She also was asking to go out more frequently last night, and squatting her little butt down but not actually going. We called the vet but I think they’re on reduced hours, and were already closed. They called back first thing this morning, and asked that we bring her in with a urine sample.

Collecting a urine sample was… interesting, but Marc did a great job. Weirder than trying to do it with kids, but a lot less of trying to explain what was happening. Other than a weird look Lizzie shot his way as he shoved a tupperware container (which we will be throwing away) under her, she was cool with it. She’s not acting sick at all, eating and drinking fine, and was bouncing around with her blue ball last night, so I’m not super worried. But nobody likes when their dog is sick.

Sam is finishing up his antibiotics today, and the vomiting seems to be mostly gone. I’m ramping up on the allergy meds, giving him zyrtec in the mornings and benedryl at night, but he seems to be better. He’s got an orientation and mobility session on Saturday. I’m happy that we seem to be at least moving forward a little bit on getting him the services he needs. We’ve got a meet and greet with his 8th grade teacher this afternoon, and another one next week with his math and science teachers. Eighth grade seems… way more grown up than I’m ready for him to be, and I know the hard work of transferring over ownership of his education is going to be kicking into high gear over the next five years.

Family dynamics seem to take center stage, especially when nobody has anything or anyone else to distract them. For the past few weeks, the kids and I have watched movies on Friday night, and Marc has… not. I nagged to get him to join us, and now he wants to pick a movie. Which is not unreasonable, of course, but the problem is that he likes movies for different reasons. He’s feeling hurt that I nixed violent movies and Jessie specifically asked for a movie that won’t make him sob sentimentally. I’m trying to manage that, and failing. There some other stuff bubbling around Marc wanting Sam to engage in wrestling or grappling, and Sam having no desire to do so – and my being in the middle of that isn’t helping either. But it honest to God feels like they both need me there to translate to the other – so that’s a rough situation and I’m clueless as to how to proceed.

Julie’s education over the past eight weeks has taken a hit. I’m not concerned – because I basically unschooled Sam for a year or two, and he spent a year not doing any academics at all – and was able to pick up in the 7th grade and manage perfectly well. The school has been providing work online, but it’s all below her grade level, and feels like busy work. She’s so stressed right now, and I’m worried about her general unhappiness tipping over into situational depression, so I haven’t pushed it. She’s reading a ton and working on math most afternoons with Marc, so that’ll just have to suffice until we get a better plan in place.

Jessie thinks she might have gotten the Nelson Fellowship. Her teacher says she’s got it, the judges she interviewed with yesterday said they’ll let her know next week. It’s a full time job, starting on Sam’s birthday and running for six weeks. It’ll probably be a hybrid of zoom meetings and in person sessions at the Federal Courthouse in Boston – which raises so many concerns. One – keeping the house silent so that she can have quiet zoom meetings is next to impossible. Two – the thought of putting my baby onto public transportation and into a crowded courthouse with a raging plague goign on doesn’t make me feel warm and fuzzy. But it’s such an amazing opportunity for her, and we have to find someway to live with Covid-19, because it isn’t going away.

One of the nicest parts of this whole self isolation is the relationships. Also one of the hardest part is managing those relationships, but that’s a separate post.

For the most part, Marc has been working 24/7 forever. So having him home means that the kids needs to relearn how to talk to him. He needs to learn how to talk to the kids. And most importantly, I need to stop being the go-between. All four of them have the tendency to try and filter information through me – and I’m working hard on trying to break that habit. Not just my own habit, but also encouraging them to talk directly to each other which is oddly harder than you might imagine.

But my favorite part of it is the relationships between siblings, specifically Julianna and Sam. Sam and Jessie are really close most of the time, but Julie and Sam haven’t really been close since his accident. Not that they don’t love each other, but actually enjoying spending time together was a lot more challenging. They play now. Actually play. Yesterday, I actually said – “Hey – if you’re going to be loud, you have to go play outside.” Because they were that loud, wrestling around and playing.