It was a hot, rainy July night. Noah was away at Summer camp and the girls were grouchy - stir-crazy from the rain, sticky and wild-haired from the stifling humidity. It was too early to put them to bed, so Michael and I plugged the laptop into the TV and decided to let them watch some old videos on YouTube.
They loved it - , U2, The Dead Milkmen, Prince, Weird Al, They Might Be Giants, and even this classic. It was like going back to a time when MTV actually was music television.
After we finished watching Video Killed the Radio Star, Michael looked at me conspiratorially and said, "You know what it's a perfect night for, right?"
I raised my eyebrows. "I don't know. Aviva is still too young, I think."
"Aww, c'mon. It's not that bad. They'll love it!", he cajoled as he searched for the unedited, original video. "Found it!"
"I don't know, babe", I reiterated, shooting a concerned glance toward our easily spooked 4-year-old child.
"Don't be ridiculous. She'll be fine!", he scoffed, then confidently gave my maternal anxiety the final brush-off and clicked play.
What followed, what he insisted would be totally fine, was the full-length version of Thriller.
Aviva's initial reaction was as uneventful as the beginning of Michael Jackson and Ola Ray's ill-fated date. But, just like in the video, things took a turn for the worse when MJ started growing fangs and sprouting whiskers. Aviva began to freak out uncontrollably at the sight of his transformation from high school sweetheart to blood-thirsty werewolf. And then, when he looked up and growled, she screamed with a fear so deep that I didn't think I'd ever be able to calm her down.
Fantastic.
Fast-forward to 11pm that night. Michael and I were clinging to the edges of our bed while Aviva stretched out in the middle, finally asleep after nearly three hours of Thriller-related bedtime drama. "You can say I told you so", Michael said quietly, his regret filling the room.
"I'll never give you the satisfaction", I hissed, yawning, too exhausted to discuss what had happened. With nothing more to say, we both fell asleep.
Weeks and months passed. Aviva never mentioned again how scared she got that night, so we assumed that she had repressed the memory. That theory suited us all very well until a few weeks ago, when Noah started keeping a lunar cycle journal for science class.
"Oh wow, Mom!", he called from our porch one evening last week, "You've gotta come see this gorgeous full moon!"
With those words spoken so innocently by her brother, something inside Aviva's mind snapped. Like a category 5 human tornado, she tore through the living room, screaming wildly in an attempt to stop me from looking at the moon.
"NO! MOMMY, NO! DON'T LOOK AT IT! DON'T LOOK AT IIIIIITTT!!!!! IT WILL MAKE YOU A WEREWOLF! AAAAAAAAAH! NOAH! NOAH! NOEEEEEEEE! STOP IT! STOP SEEING THE MOOOOOOON! YOU'RE GONNA BE A WEREWOLF AND EAT ME UP!!! STOPPPPPP IIIIIIIIIIITTTT! AAAAAAHHHHH!!!!"
I quickly caught my little whirling dervish of irrational fear as she continued to shriek about the moon's danger. "Aviva, "I said forcefully, trying to grab her attention, "no-one is going to turn into a werewolf and eat you, OK? That stuff is just pretend. Everyone here is still human, see? Noah looked at the moon for a long time and he's still Noah!" I gestured over to Noah to prove my example and discovered that he was on the floor, laughing hysterically. This did not go unnoticed by Aviva.
"NOAH!! STOP LAUGHING AT MEEEEE! RIGHT! NOW!", Aviva raged, "AHHHHH!" She lunged at him, but was easily restrained. I stifled a laugh and told him to run for his life...or at least go finish his homework.
More crying and quiet pleading followed as I held her on my lap, "I (hiccup) don't wanna (hiccup) have a Noah or a mommy who wants to eat (hiccup) me up. No more moon. No (hiccup) more."
Poor Aviva, so traumatized by the funk of forty thousand years. She made us close the drapes and turn on all the lights, then proceeded to curse the moon, werewolves, and Michael Jackson for a good twenty minutes. Our theory of true repression was out the window, having been proven undeniably wrong. That memory was alive and well. She just kept it dormant and needed the right trigger to reanimate it, much like the dead tissue of a dancing zombie.
Once she calmed down a bit, I drew her a bath where she happily relaxed until her fingertips were wrinkled like gorgeous little raisins. Michael toweled her off and, as he did, she hugged him and said, "I hate that werewolf song, Daddy. It's really scares me." He squeezed her in return and promised to never play it again, which seemed to be all she needed to hear.
"Who's ready for a bedtime story?", I chirped, sensing an opportunity to eliminate the thought of werewolves from Aviva's mind forever. I scooped her up, covered her with kisses, and helped her into her favorite monkey pajamas. "Go upstairs and brush your teeth. I'll be right up!"
As she bounced out of the bathroom and up to her room, Michael and I shared a smile and a laugh about the evening's events. "I thought she had forgotten...", he mused.
I shrugged, smiled, and kissed him. Then, hugging him close, I gleefully whispered, "I told you so."
Monday, January 24, 2011
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Ten
At 4:17 AM on March 9th, Noah officially turned double digits! I am completely shocked by how quickly ten years have gone by. It's as if I've savored a decade of motherhood in some sort of bizarre time warp where changes happen instantaneously, but in slow motion.
That tiny 6 pound, 18 inch long infant is now 70 pounds and almost 5 feet tall. That babbling baby now has an unlimited vocabulary and reads at an 8th grade level. That stumbling one year old now leaps over hedges and knows how to ride a skateboard. That two year old banging on the piano can now play jazz and blues. That clingy preschooler who wouldn't leave my side now can't wait to leave for three weeks of overnight camp this Summer. That curious kindergartener who broke things just to see how they worked can now build working things of his own.
He is not little anymore.
(sniffle, sniffle)
That being said, he's not exactly big, either. He is a 'tween. He loves his independence and his friends, but he's not embarrassed when I hug him in public.
Well, not yet, anyway. So, I'll enjoy it while it lasts.
Here's the breakdown. Noah at age ten:
-"Oh, it's been extraordinary!", Noah said, when I asked him how his last day of being nine was going. "I played a huge game of tag at recess with almost everyone in my class and we did cool stuff in science. Plus, it's really nice outside!" That word sums up Noah at age ten: Extraordinary. I know I'm slightly biased, but he's a really great kid.
- In his ten years, he's gained two sisters. They absolutely adore him and he adores them right back. He is a kind, loving, protective big brother. So lucky, my little girls.
- He is a HUGE Celtics fan.
- Noah has a great group of friends and one best friend, Mack, who comes over so often that he's practically family. I love listening to (er...eavesdropping on) them when they talk openly about their friends, things that happen at school, and life in general. It's usually very funny, but it's also very informative and endearing.
- He loves to build stuff out of parts from other things. Recently, he made a working door-opener out of the launcher from a Matchbox race-car track, batteries, copper wire, and some gymp. Last month, he rewired his clock radio to a big, old boombox speaker that he found on the street. Thankfully, he did not wake the entire neighborhood when his alarm went off the next morning.
- Noah eats like he's got a hollow leg that needs filling. Thankfully, he's got an adventurous palate and will try anything once, as evidenced by his love of things like fish eyes, snails, and hot peppers.
- He loves trickery and often tries to fool his sisters into believing the preposterous. Last month, he tried to convince a post-nap Lilah that she had hibernated and that it was actually April.
- He's learning two languages right now - Spanish at his regular school and modern Hebrew at Hebrew school. He's pretty fluent in Spanish and his Hebrew is improving everyday. Sometimes, though, he mixes them up and comes out with crazy sentences that combine Spanish and Hebrew words with English conjunctions. The same thing used to happen to me when I was first learning the same two languages. Plagued by my own trilingual beginner's confusion, I used to joke with my Dad that my brain was like a stew full of paella, Boston cream pie, and falafel. He'd joke back, saying, "It's heartburn in three languages!". Now he makes the same kind of jokes with Noah...and it makes me smile.
- Noah has become an excellent, dedicated pianist. He works very hard on his assigned lesson pieces, but also has a lot of fun just playing around at the piano. He challenges himself by figuring out how to play his favorite songs by ear. In the past few months, he's taught himself songs by Augustana, Coldplay, REM, Regina Spektor, and Jack Johnson. In the past week, he's figured out the instrumental theme from "Up". It's so lovely to have a house that's always full of music.
- He started clarinet this year. Thankfully, it was only the first few weeks that every practice session sounded like a gaggle of tortured geese. He actually plays pretty well now.
- Noah is impressively charismatic and charming. He instinctively knows how to talk to people and has developed quite a way with the ladies. At Aviva's preschool class party a couple of weeks ago, he introduced himself to all of Aviva's very pretty, twenty-something teachers with certainty and complete confidence. When Aviva's teacher, Meaghan, said, "Noah, it's so nice to finally meet you! Aviva talks about you all the time!" Noah shook her hand, looked right into her eyes, smiled, and said, "Oh, it's really a pleasure to be here. Aviva talks about you, too, and likes you a lot. I would love it if you'd show me around the classroom!" Meaghan looked at me with an amused, beguiled expression, then took him on a tour of the classroom - just like that. He also flirts with unsuspecting salesgirls to get free stuff. He and Michael stopped into Melt one evening last week. While Michael got some shaving products, Noah chatted up the salesgirl and came away with complimentary bath salts.
As he grows, I hope he uses these powers for good and only good. I will do my best to make sure that he does.
- He has lots of questions about everything. My favorite recent one, "Mom, do the bumps around my nipples signify my age? You know, like a tree's rings?"
- His body is slowly beginning to change. It won't be too long before you'll need to lock up your daughters.
- It also won't be too long before we need to start thinking about his Bar Mitzvah. Oy vey.
Until then, he is ten, which is an amazing age. I plan to enjoy it and to let him enjoy it, knowing full well that another ten years will pass in the blink of an eye.
Happy decade, Noah. It's been extraordinary.
That tiny 6 pound, 18 inch long infant is now 70 pounds and almost 5 feet tall. That babbling baby now has an unlimited vocabulary and reads at an 8th grade level. That stumbling one year old now leaps over hedges and knows how to ride a skateboard. That two year old banging on the piano can now play jazz and blues. That clingy preschooler who wouldn't leave my side now can't wait to leave for three weeks of overnight camp this Summer. That curious kindergartener who broke things just to see how they worked can now build working things of his own.
He is not little anymore.
(sniffle, sniffle)
That being said, he's not exactly big, either. He is a 'tween. He loves his independence and his friends, but he's not embarrassed when I hug him in public.
Well, not yet, anyway. So, I'll enjoy it while it lasts.
Here's the breakdown. Noah at age ten:
-"Oh, it's been extraordinary!", Noah said, when I asked him how his last day of being nine was going. "I played a huge game of tag at recess with almost everyone in my class and we did cool stuff in science. Plus, it's really nice outside!" That word sums up Noah at age ten: Extraordinary. I know I'm slightly biased, but he's a really great kid.
- In his ten years, he's gained two sisters. They absolutely adore him and he adores them right back. He is a kind, loving, protective big brother. So lucky, my little girls.
- He is a HUGE Celtics fan.
- Noah has a great group of friends and one best friend, Mack, who comes over so often that he's practically family. I love listening to (er...eavesdropping on) them when they talk openly about their friends, things that happen at school, and life in general. It's usually very funny, but it's also very informative and endearing.
- He loves to build stuff out of parts from other things. Recently, he made a working door-opener out of the launcher from a Matchbox race-car track, batteries, copper wire, and some gymp. Last month, he rewired his clock radio to a big, old boombox speaker that he found on the street. Thankfully, he did not wake the entire neighborhood when his alarm went off the next morning.
- Noah eats like he's got a hollow leg that needs filling. Thankfully, he's got an adventurous palate and will try anything once, as evidenced by his love of things like fish eyes, snails, and hot peppers.
- He loves trickery and often tries to fool his sisters into believing the preposterous. Last month, he tried to convince a post-nap Lilah that she had hibernated and that it was actually April.
- He's learning two languages right now - Spanish at his regular school and modern Hebrew at Hebrew school. He's pretty fluent in Spanish and his Hebrew is improving everyday. Sometimes, though, he mixes them up and comes out with crazy sentences that combine Spanish and Hebrew words with English conjunctions. The same thing used to happen to me when I was first learning the same two languages. Plagued by my own trilingual beginner's confusion, I used to joke with my Dad that my brain was like a stew full of paella, Boston cream pie, and falafel. He'd joke back, saying, "It's heartburn in three languages!". Now he makes the same kind of jokes with Noah...and it makes me smile.
- Noah has become an excellent, dedicated pianist. He works very hard on his assigned lesson pieces, but also has a lot of fun just playing around at the piano. He challenges himself by figuring out how to play his favorite songs by ear. In the past few months, he's taught himself songs by Augustana, Coldplay, REM, Regina Spektor, and Jack Johnson. In the past week, he's figured out the instrumental theme from "Up". It's so lovely to have a house that's always full of music.
- He started clarinet this year. Thankfully, it was only the first few weeks that every practice session sounded like a gaggle of tortured geese. He actually plays pretty well now.
- Noah is impressively charismatic and charming. He instinctively knows how to talk to people and has developed quite a way with the ladies. At Aviva's preschool class party a couple of weeks ago, he introduced himself to all of Aviva's very pretty, twenty-something teachers with certainty and complete confidence. When Aviva's teacher, Meaghan, said, "Noah, it's so nice to finally meet you! Aviva talks about you all the time!" Noah shook her hand, looked right into her eyes, smiled, and said, "Oh, it's really a pleasure to be here. Aviva talks about you, too, and likes you a lot. I would love it if you'd show me around the classroom!" Meaghan looked at me with an amused, beguiled expression, then took him on a tour of the classroom - just like that. He also flirts with unsuspecting salesgirls to get free stuff. He and Michael stopped into Melt one evening last week. While Michael got some shaving products, Noah chatted up the salesgirl and came away with complimentary bath salts.
As he grows, I hope he uses these powers for good and only good. I will do my best to make sure that he does.
- He has lots of questions about everything. My favorite recent one, "Mom, do the bumps around my nipples signify my age? You know, like a tree's rings?"
- His body is slowly beginning to change. It won't be too long before you'll need to lock up your daughters.
- It also won't be too long before we need to start thinking about his Bar Mitzvah. Oy vey.
Until then, he is ten, which is an amazing age. I plan to enjoy it and to let him enjoy it, knowing full well that another ten years will pass in the blink of an eye.
Happy decade, Noah. It's been extraordinary.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Night of the Living Noah
Noah was four when it first happened.
He had been sick and feverish. Several hours after we put him to bed, we heard him coming down the hall. He was crying, speaking nonsensically, and pacing. We tried to settle him down and that's when we realized that HE WASN'T AWAKE.
It happened again and again - every time he got sick and had a fever, he would sleep walk. Sometimes he'd chatter calmly, other times he'd be hysterical and frightened. Either way, it used to freak me out.
Not only was it horror-movie creepy, but I deeply feared, in the most maternal way, that he had some sort of neurological issue
His pediatrician, ever so calm and unflappable, shrugged and said, "It's interesting, but it's nothing alarming. Just make sure that he's safe and that there's nothing he can trip over. He'll probably outgrow it eventually."
That conversation happened five years ago and, while I've stopped worrying, he hasn't shown any signs of outgrowing it yet.
Noah caught Aviva's fever/cough combo and spent most of this past week resting at home. Tuesday night, around 10 o'clock, Michael and I heard him come downstairs.
Pink with fever, he paced restlessly and babbled about battery circuits, armadillos, and chocolate mousse. He eventually sat next to me on the couch, spine straight, seemingly wide awake and sound asleep at the same time.
"Hey buddy,", I whispered, "How are you feeling?"
He rubbed his eyes, looked around, and replied, "Oh, hi Mommy. I'm tired. I think I should probably go to bed."
Then, with a goodnight kiss and as if nothing had happened, he did.
Never a dull moment here at chez Shiny Happy.
He had been sick and feverish. Several hours after we put him to bed, we heard him coming down the hall. He was crying, speaking nonsensically, and pacing. We tried to settle him down and that's when we realized that HE WASN'T AWAKE.
It happened again and again - every time he got sick and had a fever, he would sleep walk. Sometimes he'd chatter calmly, other times he'd be hysterical and frightened. Either way, it used to freak me out.
Not only was it horror-movie creepy, but I deeply feared, in the most maternal way, that he had some sort of neurological issue
His pediatrician, ever so calm and unflappable, shrugged and said, "It's interesting, but it's nothing alarming. Just make sure that he's safe and that there's nothing he can trip over. He'll probably outgrow it eventually."
That conversation happened five years ago and, while I've stopped worrying, he hasn't shown any signs of outgrowing it yet.
Noah caught Aviva's fever/cough combo and spent most of this past week resting at home. Tuesday night, around 10 o'clock, Michael and I heard him come downstairs.
Pink with fever, he paced restlessly and babbled about battery circuits, armadillos, and chocolate mousse. He eventually sat next to me on the couch, spine straight, seemingly wide awake and sound asleep at the same time.
"Hey buddy,", I whispered, "How are you feeling?"
He rubbed his eyes, looked around, and replied, "Oh, hi Mommy. I'm tired. I think I should probably go to bed."
Then, with a goodnight kiss and as if nothing had happened, he did.
Never a dull moment here at chez Shiny Happy.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Licensed to Ill
Add to the list of things that my children have in common: All three got dreadfully ill during their first month of preschool. All of those new friends and new germs get their immune systems jumping, telling their bodies, much like Beastie Boys, that it's time to get ill.
(Admittedly, the preschool way of getting ill is much less fun that the Beastie Boy way)
Last week, it was Aviva's turn to have a germy, preschool-related, downward-spiraling lurgy.
It started with congestion. A little cold, I thought. No big deal.
Within 4 hours of the first sniffle, she had a fever of 103 and her nose was dripping like some sort of Kafkaesque faucet.
(cut to me, frantically rearranging my schedule while maternally stroking her hot little head)
She was restless that night, motrin barely touching her fever. Poor thing.
The next day, propelled by lethargy and discontentment, she built herself a nest of throw pillows on couch. Her throne. There she lounged, watching cartoons, taking naps and ordering me around.
Over the next several days, I learned what it was like to be a servant to a hostile queen.
In addition to a constant barrage of impolite demands for tissues and beverages, here are a few of her other demands, verbatim:
"Paint my fingernails! And toes!"
"Tom and Jerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry!!"
"My foot is so cold and buzzy! I need a sock! One sock! ONLY ONE!"
If I was out of the room for more than a minute or two, she let out ear-splitting, banshee-like wail of "Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!"
Her lips chapped because she couldn't breathe through her nose (and the stuff from her nose exacerbated the chapping), but every application of chapstick/aquaphor resulted in her screaming, "It spices my mouth! GO AWAY, MAMA!" (this made me a little sad)
Aviva, what would you like for lunch? ... "Chocolate chips!" How about some fruit, too? Or some yogurt? "NO! JUST CHOCOLATE CHIPS!"
I think you need a shower, Aviva... "No shower! Never!"
OK, Aviva. It's time to get out of the shower... "No! I want to stay in!"
"Tell Daddy to come home from work. I WANT DADDYYYYY!"
"Tell the phone to stop ringing!"
It was around day four of her illness that she started complaining of sore ears and her fever spiked to a very worrisome 104.4. So, we went to the pediatrician and found out that she had a double ear infection...and that the infection happened so quickly that it caused her right eardrum to rupture.
I immediately forgave Aviva for her germ-fueled belligerence. I would probably forgo all social graces if my ear canals were full of fluid, too.
She started antibiotics that night and, within 48 hours, was back to her sassy, sweet, only mildly bossy self.
She went back to preschool exactly one week after she got the sniffles. When I picked her up, I was greeted excitedly and got an enormous hug. Her face was animated and her voice full of laughter as she chattered about her day.
Looking at her in that moment and thinking back to that ill, lethargic little tyrant on the couch, I smiled, relieved.
I sure did miss her.
(Admittedly, the preschool way of getting ill is much less fun that the Beastie Boy way)
Last week, it was Aviva's turn to have a germy, preschool-related, downward-spiraling lurgy.
It started with congestion. A little cold, I thought. No big deal.
Within 4 hours of the first sniffle, she had a fever of 103 and her nose was dripping like some sort of Kafkaesque faucet.
(cut to me, frantically rearranging my schedule while maternally stroking her hot little head)
She was restless that night, motrin barely touching her fever. Poor thing.
The next day, propelled by lethargy and discontentment, she built herself a nest of throw pillows on couch. Her throne. There she lounged, watching cartoons, taking naps and ordering me around.
Over the next several days, I learned what it was like to be a servant to a hostile queen.
In addition to a constant barrage of impolite demands for tissues and beverages, here are a few of her other demands, verbatim:
"Paint my fingernails! And toes!"
"Tom and Jerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry!!"
"My foot is so cold and buzzy! I need a sock! One sock! ONLY ONE!"
If I was out of the room for more than a minute or two, she let out ear-splitting, banshee-like wail of "Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!"
Her lips chapped because she couldn't breathe through her nose (and the stuff from her nose exacerbated the chapping), but every application of chapstick/aquaphor resulted in her screaming, "It spices my mouth! GO AWAY, MAMA!" (this made me a little sad)
Aviva, what would you like for lunch? ... "Chocolate chips!" How about some fruit, too? Or some yogurt? "NO! JUST CHOCOLATE CHIPS!"
I think you need a shower, Aviva... "No shower! Never!"
OK, Aviva. It's time to get out of the shower... "No! I want to stay in!"
"Tell Daddy to come home from work. I WANT DADDYYYYY!"
"Tell the phone to stop ringing!"
It was around day four of her illness that she started complaining of sore ears and her fever spiked to a very worrisome 104.4. So, we went to the pediatrician and found out that she had a double ear infection...and that the infection happened so quickly that it caused her right eardrum to rupture.
I immediately forgave Aviva for her germ-fueled belligerence. I would probably forgo all social graces if my ear canals were full of fluid, too.
She started antibiotics that night and, within 48 hours, was back to her sassy, sweet, only mildly bossy self.
She went back to preschool exactly one week after she got the sniffles. When I picked her up, I was greeted excitedly and got an enormous hug. Her face was animated and her voice full of laughter as she chattered about her day.
Looking at her in that moment and thinking back to that ill, lethargic little tyrant on the couch, I smiled, relieved.
I sure did miss her.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Shiny Happy 2010
Recent shiny happiness, in no particular order...
- Aviva started preschool. It's one of those small, pretentious schools that takes itself very seriously and offers the children organic lunches, music class, and a Mandarin tutor. But, they also seem to have lot of fun and Aviva really likes it there. Plus, it's a five minute walk from my house. I'll take a touch of pretense over a long commute any day.
- Noah made this observation about a recent substitute teacher: "He played football in college and majored in Criminal Justice. So, basically, he was just like Arnold Schwartzenegger in "Kindergarten Cop", but without a gun or a funny accent."
- I recently overheard this short conversation between Lilah and a friend: Lilah's friend said, "I am highly trained in the Jedi arts!" Lilah replied, matter-of-factly, "I really don't think you are."
- I also overheard Lilah, on the phone with my mother, saying "Grammy, I need to tell you three things: 1.) I love you. 2.) I love Gramps 3.) Mommy is weird." When she handed the phone to her brother, I tickled her ferociously and covered her with kisses...because I'm weird like that.
- Aviva is in the "why?" and "how come?" stage. She wants to know everything about everything and it's just awesome... "Mama, what does sharks eat?... Does they eat the fish cooked or just wet in the ocean?...How does sharks swim if they are out of the ocean?...How come they can't come out but seals can?...".
- Aviva has also reached the age where she has just enough long-term memory to wax nostalgic. Just last night, as I was tucking her into bed, she looked through her skylight and said, "I see the moon. Mama, d'you amember in the Summah when it was late at night and dark outside and we sitted on the deck togedder and the moon was smilin' at me?" "Yes, I do remember that, Aviva. That was a nice night." "Yeah Mama. I love that night." "And I love you!", I said as I kissed her goodnight, hugged her warm little body, and silently wished for all of her memories to be so sweet.
- Noah often negotiates with us in order to stay up late. Last week, he tried to spin his argument by saying that he wanted to watch Nova with us, but it wasn't on. So, with kisses, we sent him upstairs to read and go to bed. In frustration, he grumbled and flexed his muscles at me. I dead-panned, "I'm terrified. Go to bed, please." He grinned and, with just the right amount of irony in his voice, said, "Mommy, I just adore your sarcasm."
- Aviva is developing her own way with words. An "H" at the beginning of a word turns into an "F", which means that we are "fumans" and that whales are "fuge animals in the sea!". Perfect is "perftick". "Th" turns into an "F" sound and my heart melts when she says, "I fink you're the bestest Mama on Earf.". That being said (and thanks to her siblings), she also delights in swearing creatively to gain attention. I definitely try not to encourage it (especially now that she's in preschool), but it's hard not to crack a smile when your almost-four-year-old year old spouts off words like "penis crank!" and "fuckie pops!". Thankfully, she has no contextual reference for such things. Not so true with "labia" or "tampon", though. She adores those words so much that she sometimes incorporates them into little songs that she sings to herself. Slightly mortifying? Sure, but I love that she is so brazen. It's going to be a lot of fun to help her use that girl power for good.
- Speaking of words, Lilah has a friend named Willa. Aviva loves Willa's name and enjoys saying it over and over again..."Willa! Wiiiiiiilllllllaaaa. WILL-a. will-AH! WillaWilla!" This cracks Noah and Lilah up and inevitably leads to them reciting this scene from "Elf".
- Lilah was recently asked what she wants to be when she grows up. She thought about it for a minute, then answered, "You know, I'm only seven. I don't really know because I'm not even close to being a grown up yet, but if I had to guess, I would say I'd probably be a Ninja or a veterinarian."
- After coming to the realization of what I want to be when I grow up, I left my job at the wellness center after months of feeling dissatisfied and displaced within it's ever-changing, increasingly corporate environment. It was a nerve-wracking decision, but it was also exhilarating and very correct. So, after many hugs and a few teary moments, I've moved on. Hooray for more meaningful work and continued education!
- With regard to the previous blurb: Not many husbands would so bravely face the implications of saying, "Just quit and go after what you really want to do. We'll be OK." So lucky am I to have such a supportive guy in my life.
- That supportive guy and I have made an insanely awesome arrangement with two of his employees (who happen to be roommates). They use our parking space in exchange for a ridiculously low rent...and babysit for free twice a month. Best. Deal. Ever.
- In order to look my best on our semimonthly date nights, I got my hair colored for the very first time last week. This decision was prompted by Michael, who gazed at me as I sat reading by the window and said, "Remember when we were first married and you found your first gray hair?" I said, "Yeah. What made you think of that?" He cautiously replied, "Well, it was just the way the light was hitting your hair." Mmm-hmm. Five minutes later, I made an appointment with Vicki, who has been my hairdresser for three years. When she realized that I had never colored my hair before, she gave me a hug and jested, "It's your first time?! I feel like I should be giving you flowers!". She mixed my natural dark brown shade with a touch of auburn and it looks great. I wish I had done it sooner!
- Other than that, there's not much else to report. I had the flu in early December, but felt better just in time to enjoy Chanukah, Lilah's birthday, and the kids' school vacation. All five of us stayed up past midnight on New Years Eve. I entered 2010 in my husband's arms, watching three wonderful kids dance around the living room, and feeling absolutely Shiny Happy without any irony.
- Aviva started preschool. It's one of those small, pretentious schools that takes itself very seriously and offers the children organic lunches, music class, and a Mandarin tutor. But, they also seem to have lot of fun and Aviva really likes it there. Plus, it's a five minute walk from my house. I'll take a touch of pretense over a long commute any day.
- Noah made this observation about a recent substitute teacher: "He played football in college and majored in Criminal Justice. So, basically, he was just like Arnold Schwartzenegger in "Kindergarten Cop", but without a gun or a funny accent."
- I recently overheard this short conversation between Lilah and a friend: Lilah's friend said, "I am highly trained in the Jedi arts!" Lilah replied, matter-of-factly, "I really don't think you are."
- I also overheard Lilah, on the phone with my mother, saying "Grammy, I need to tell you three things: 1.) I love you. 2.) I love Gramps 3.) Mommy is weird." When she handed the phone to her brother, I tickled her ferociously and covered her with kisses...because I'm weird like that.
- Aviva is in the "why?" and "how come?" stage. She wants to know everything about everything and it's just awesome... "Mama, what does sharks eat?... Does they eat the fish cooked or just wet in the ocean?...How does sharks swim if they are out of the ocean?...How come they can't come out but seals can?...".
- Aviva has also reached the age where she has just enough long-term memory to wax nostalgic. Just last night, as I was tucking her into bed, she looked through her skylight and said, "I see the moon. Mama, d'you amember in the Summah when it was late at night and dark outside and we sitted on the deck togedder and the moon was smilin' at me?" "Yes, I do remember that, Aviva. That was a nice night." "Yeah Mama. I love that night." "And I love you!", I said as I kissed her goodnight, hugged her warm little body, and silently wished for all of her memories to be so sweet.
- Noah often negotiates with us in order to stay up late. Last week, he tried to spin his argument by saying that he wanted to watch Nova with us, but it wasn't on. So, with kisses, we sent him upstairs to read and go to bed. In frustration, he grumbled and flexed his muscles at me. I dead-panned, "I'm terrified. Go to bed, please." He grinned and, with just the right amount of irony in his voice, said, "Mommy, I just adore your sarcasm."
- Aviva is developing her own way with words. An "H" at the beginning of a word turns into an "F", which means that we are "fumans" and that whales are "fuge animals in the sea!". Perfect is "perftick". "Th" turns into an "F" sound and my heart melts when she says, "I fink you're the bestest Mama on Earf.". That being said (and thanks to her siblings), she also delights in swearing creatively to gain attention. I definitely try not to encourage it (especially now that she's in preschool), but it's hard not to crack a smile when your almost-four-year-old year old spouts off words like "penis crank!" and "fuckie pops!". Thankfully, she has no contextual reference for such things. Not so true with "labia" or "tampon", though. She adores those words so much that she sometimes incorporates them into little songs that she sings to herself. Slightly mortifying? Sure, but I love that she is so brazen. It's going to be a lot of fun to help her use that girl power for good.
- Speaking of words, Lilah has a friend named Willa. Aviva loves Willa's name and enjoys saying it over and over again..."Willa! Wiiiiiiilllllllaaaa. WILL-a. will-AH! WillaWilla!" This cracks Noah and Lilah up and inevitably leads to them reciting this scene from "Elf".
- Lilah was recently asked what she wants to be when she grows up. She thought about it for a minute, then answered, "You know, I'm only seven. I don't really know because I'm not even close to being a grown up yet, but if I had to guess, I would say I'd probably be a Ninja or a veterinarian."
- After coming to the realization of what I want to be when I grow up, I left my job at the wellness center after months of feeling dissatisfied and displaced within it's ever-changing, increasingly corporate environment. It was a nerve-wracking decision, but it was also exhilarating and very correct. So, after many hugs and a few teary moments, I've moved on. Hooray for more meaningful work and continued education!
- With regard to the previous blurb: Not many husbands would so bravely face the implications of saying, "Just quit and go after what you really want to do. We'll be OK." So lucky am I to have such a supportive guy in my life.
- That supportive guy and I have made an insanely awesome arrangement with two of his employees (who happen to be roommates). They use our parking space in exchange for a ridiculously low rent...and babysit for free twice a month. Best. Deal. Ever.
- In order to look my best on our semimonthly date nights, I got my hair colored for the very first time last week. This decision was prompted by Michael, who gazed at me as I sat reading by the window and said, "Remember when we were first married and you found your first gray hair?" I said, "Yeah. What made you think of that?" He cautiously replied, "Well, it was just the way the light was hitting your hair." Mmm-hmm. Five minutes later, I made an appointment with Vicki, who has been my hairdresser for three years. When she realized that I had never colored my hair before, she gave me a hug and jested, "It's your first time?! I feel like I should be giving you flowers!". She mixed my natural dark brown shade with a touch of auburn and it looks great. I wish I had done it sooner!
- Other than that, there's not much else to report. I had the flu in early December, but felt better just in time to enjoy Chanukah, Lilah's birthday, and the kids' school vacation. All five of us stayed up past midnight on New Years Eve. I entered 2010 in my husband's arms, watching three wonderful kids dance around the living room, and feeling absolutely Shiny Happy without any irony.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Seven!
Lilah is 7.
Actually, she's been seven since December 16th.
I have not had a lot of time to write lately, so this is a belated birthday blog!
Lilah at seven. Here we go:
- Tall! Four feet tall to be exact.
- So smart. At the Fall parent-teacher conference, Lilah's teacher described her as "A model student...excellent math skills...attentive and thoughtful...great at problem solving. A good friend, too, and an excellent member the class." I blushed with pride...and couldn't believe that a child with half of my DNA had any math skills, never mind excellent ones.
- She is quirky, with a dark sense of humor. When asked to draw a house in art class, she drew a haunted house with a corpse in the doorway.
- She is very intuitive, which is probably why she has such a dark side. She knows that good and evil can coexist and can usually figure people out pretty quickly.
- She is scarily good at reasoning...even with herself!
- She talks in her sleep. After working late, Michael went into her room to check on her and, as he kissed her forehead, she sleepily exclaimed, "Oh! My sweet prince! You have come to kiss me!". Also, after losing her second tooth a few weeks ago, Michael and I went to take her tooth from under her pillow and replace it with a dollar. When we did, she said, "I was hoping to meet you, Tooth Fairy!", sound asleep all the while.
- Though she tends to be on the quiet side, Lilah is a popular girl. Her teacher and I both think it's because she's easy-going, but plays on her own terms. She knows how to have fun with her friends, but she's nobody's doormat.
- She loves science, especially anything having to do with animals, weather, or chemistry. She is fearless when it comes to all types of critters - even creepy, crawly, slimy ones.
- She loves music and has pretty diverse taste. She'll listen to pretty much anything as long as it's not "too noisy". For her birthday, Michael and I took her to see Wicked, which was playing in Providence. She was already very familiar with the music, but had never seen a live musical production of any kind before. When the lights went down and the orchestra took that "ff" on the opening bars seriously, the look on her face was just incredible. Pure awe and joy. It made me so glad that we could give her such a special day.
- She loves art, both creating it and admiring it.
- Because of that, she really enjoys visually stunning movies. Some of her favorites are Coraline, Nightmare Before Christmas, The Princess Bride, The Wizard of Oz, E.T., The Never-Ending Story, Spirited Away, and Ponyo. She also really likes Pixar movies and old cartoons, especially Tom and Jerry and Looney Tunes.
- She truly appreciates the absurd.
- She is the only 1st grader I've ever met that enjoys going to Hebrew school.
- She adores books. Her favorites thus far: Matilda, Superfudge, the Beverly Cleary "Ramona" books, the Junie B. Jones series, The Mouse and the Motorcycle, Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great, and several smaller story books. If I listed all of her favorite short story books, it would take all day, but my favorite short story to read with her is this one. Such a lovely little book.
- She loves to help me cook. Molasses cookies are our specialty.
- She is still, as far as we know, severely allergic to all things dairy - milk, butter, yogurt, cheese, etc. Until recently, she took it in stride, but, understanding now that it's a hindrance, she's having a tough time with it. Last week, she cried because she couldn't have regular ice cream. She had never been so emotional about her allergy before. The only thing we can do is to get her retested this Spring and hope for the best. She already outgrew her egg allergy, so maybe her immune system will kick this one to the curb, too.
- She played soccer this past Fall. It was her first time doing any sort of team sport and she enjoyed it enough to want to do it again in the Spring!
- She still has some sweet little habits and malapropisms leftover from her toddler/preschool years. Beef is still "beeth", big toes are still "foot thumbs". She still sleeps with Teddy, her well-loved bear, every night. She still curls up in my lap when she's sad or tired. I treasure these last vestiges of her smaller years in the hopes that my sentimentality will act as some sort of headwind against the push of time. Growing children are inevitable, though, and time pushes harder than I do. She will get bigger and outgrow her cute Little Lilah habits to make room for more grown up mannerisms. That being said, I do think that whomever she marries will have to leave room in the bed for Teddy.
Happy 7th, Lilah Rachel. I love you. xoxox
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
The Newtonian Mechanics of Parenting
I once had a wonderful teacher who said, "It's all physics."
So true. Even with parenting.
Remember last week, with all the swearing?
It could have happened again last night, at the same time, within the same context: Dinner table, happy conversation, good music.
But no. Not after the long day I had.
The second I heard Gordon Gano nasally warbling - Day....Afte-er day... - I bolted across the kitchen and started a different playlist.
I was just too tired to indulge in a cacophony of cursing children. I was also in no mood to explain why getting just one fuck does, in fact, have something to do with luck.
So, because of my overall disposition at that moment, I skipped a wild song to maintain the peace and quiet. Last week, for the same reason, I let a quiet, though risque, song lead to a bit of happy chaos.
Once the kids were asleep and I mentally took stock of my day, I laughed at how my decision to turn off "Add It Up" was such a contradiction to last week's lenient, hilarious dinnertime distraction. I laughed at the contradiction of the songs themselves: one is a controlled lamentation by a woman complaining about her dickhead boyfriend, the other is frenetic expression of sexual frustration by a man who is kind of being a dickhead. Juxtaposed, these two situations got my synapses crackling and I started thinking about the predictable, scientific nature of my reactions. After several moments, I came to my Newtonian conclusion:
For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Even when it comes to music. Especially when it comes to parenting. And it really is ALL physics.
So true. Even with parenting.
Remember last week, with all the swearing?
It could have happened again last night, at the same time, within the same context: Dinner table, happy conversation, good music.
But no. Not after the long day I had.
The second I heard Gordon Gano nasally warbling - Day....Afte-er day... - I bolted across the kitchen and started a different playlist.
I was just too tired to indulge in a cacophony of cursing children. I was also in no mood to explain why getting just one fuck does, in fact, have something to do with luck.
So, because of my overall disposition at that moment, I skipped a wild song to maintain the peace and quiet. Last week, for the same reason, I let a quiet, though risque, song lead to a bit of happy chaos.
Once the kids were asleep and I mentally took stock of my day, I laughed at how my decision to turn off "Add It Up" was such a contradiction to last week's lenient, hilarious dinnertime distraction. I laughed at the contradiction of the songs themselves: one is a controlled lamentation by a woman complaining about her dickhead boyfriend, the other is frenetic expression of sexual frustration by a man who is kind of being a dickhead. Juxtaposed, these two situations got my synapses crackling and I started thinking about the predictable, scientific nature of my reactions. After several moments, I came to my Newtonian conclusion:
For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Even when it comes to music. Especially when it comes to parenting. And it really is ALL physics.
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