Take 88 of thinking, this isn't how it's supposed to be...

     Day 88ish of the Q ends the school year. No ice cream, pool parties, sweat dripping off uniforms, endlessly annoying teachers until the bitter end or crafty projects were had at the end of second and fifth grades. Instead, we wore masks, gloves, and followed taped lines to return textbooks. No soft, comforting hugs from teachers we've been with all year or climbing the rock one last time with good friends happened. During KK's last Zoom yesterday with his teacher reading aloud, I was overcome with sadness. June is always a hard month, as school ends, it's KK's birthday, and so many feelings from the summer he was born resurface. Yesterday, I just started crying in my red chair. Max asked me if I was crying. 

     "Yes, I'm crying. I'm sad the school year is ending this way. It sucks," I said.

     KK came over and told me I needed a hug. I did. Max was being a tween and seemed to carry on whatever he was doing.

     KK had this amazing teacher this year, but missed out on three months with her amazingness due to the Q. He missed playing tetherball at recess, running with his friends, and learning fractions at school. Max grew in more ways than height this year with a mostly fabulous group of teachers. A few ones he truly connected with and was equally sad to be finishing up his first year of middle school so much so that he said he didn't want the year to end! He actually liked learning from home, and excelled at it. He woke up on his own for his 9 a.m. zoom and mostly didn't complain about it. KK was the complete opposite. He needs his people.

    I'm allowing myself to be sad about the way the school year is ending. Let's not compare apples and tarantulas. Yes, we are very lucky to live in an amazing house, with no food insecurities, and feel safe. In no way am I discounting anyone else's struggles with my own. Everyone has something. Let's remember that.  

Mother's day in the Q

I'm just not the mom I thought I would be...

My guess is that we were all better parents before we had children or if you do not have children, you think you would do it better. Before children, I didn't want my kids to get Chanukah presents for every night; I thought I would work full-time and come home with adoring kids; dinner made and homework completed. Ha!

I didn't know that my husband would work so much when I was pregnant with my first (Max, 11, on the right) because he was in his intern year that I would worry he wouldn't be around when the baby was born. I didn't know I wouldn't be able to breastfeed like I planned. I didn't know I would be so lonely with just a baby to keep me company for hours on end. You know what else I didn't know? I didn't know how marvelous it would feel when my sarcastic kid laughs at my jokes, tells his own,  "gets" his math, uses his own money to purchase mother's day presents, writes me sweet notes when I need them or tells me when I look like I need a hug--then gives me one. 

My husband was there when Max was born and the days prior (albeit still working kind of) and even got a surprise week of paternity leave. By the way, fed is best and I should really get over not being able to breastfeed. Guilt. I made friends, went out, found ways by myself to be less lonely and eventually he started reacting and becoming a baby instead of an infant.

I thought I would build legos, draw pictures, cook, and all the other cutesy stuff on Pinterest. Ha. I do build legos, then the 7 year old takes it away because he needs that piece, we draw then someone gets frustrated or uses sharpie on the table, cooking is a hot mess (but fun and experimental with FAILING) and I really do not do Pinterest, so don't send me there. I find pockets of time 1:1 with each kid to be the most rewarding right now. I still trip over my pre-conceived notions of what I SHOULD be as a mother or as I imagined, but I'm working on just putting one foot in front another and doing the best I can. You should too.   

    

Zoomeral

     My great Aunt Miriam, 98, (my grandmother's sister) passed away this week. This morning was my first Zoom funeral. I saw cousins

Zoomeral attended by 25+ families

I haven't seen in years, heard stories of her and my grandmother. I actually appreciated being on Zoom and not IRL. I put on lipstick, just for Aunt Miriam, because she would have expected it. Aunt Miriam lived close to my Dad and Lynn and when I was growing up, she power walked all the time. I saw her at least once or twice a week and she always had her blouse tucked in and lipstick on her lips. Often she would be saying, allright, allright and shaking her head with her perfect beauty parlor hair standard in her generation. Aunt Miriam helped start the Golden Agers at the JCC, which meet where I attended elementary school (Chattanooga Jewish Day School) on Wednesdays for as long as I could remember. I don't remember a time when the old ladies and a scattering of men weren't there. They met in the room across from the preschool rooms and most likely played Mah Jongg, Canasta, Bridge, who knows what? Some times there were speakers talking about aging or who knows what? One day in elementary school I asked Aunt Miriam what would happen when she's not longer walking around helping the golden agers and she IS a golden ager? Her response was quick, I'll join them! Of course she would!

     I haven't seen Aunt Miriam in years, since she decided being home was where she wanted to be (as far as I know) and she didn't have visitors (to my knowledge other than immediate family). My guess is that she wanted to be remembered for her perfect hair, tucked in blouse, lipstick and power walk; not as someone who didn't go out, which is exactly the way I will remember her.

     The birds took over any silence on this morning's Zoomeral led by Rabbi Tendler. Social distancing didn't allow for a large gathering, but if not, there would have been a huge community outpouring of memories and support for Doc, Eddie, Gwen, Jonathan, Jennifer and Charles. May her memory be for a blessing and bring comfort to those who mourn. 

Parenting the spirited

KK, 6, builds a tower at 8 p.m.

I've always known the boys (6 and 9) had extra energy, but I chalked it up to the fact that their dad works a lot and we move often. I'm wrong. I'm sure those are factors, but I've learned that we're parenting "spirited" children. This is a loose term, that most likely will be varied in definitions from parent to parent.

Post Yom Kippur service, they wanted to climb on scaffolding.

     What is means to me is that my kids are extra. Extra sensitive, extra needy, extra loving, extra argumentative, just MORE. I know many friends will not agree with this and think that we just need to be meaner and set more rules. I know the boys and this will just cause them to push back. There are only so many rules I can argue about legitimately. "I'm the mom, that's why" never works. 

    Some hard no-negotiating rules are wearing helmets while biking or scootering; carseats always; be kind; no hitting. Do they have a set bedtime? No. Their dad gets home at varied times and we want them to see each other, so the 6-year-old goes to bed between 8-8:30 and the 9-year-old starts negotiating about 8:45ish.

     Do they bathe every night? No. Max, 9, just started not arguing about showering when I ask. He's 9 and a half. Seriously. The 6-year-old argues every time. He wants to know if he smells. He wants to know if he can do it tomorrow. He wants to know WHYYYYYY he has to bathe.

    Brushing teeth, same thing. Every single day. It's exhausting. I'm tired. I was compelled to write this after seeing another spirited group of kids at the playground this afternoon. Next time I'm going to talk about how the spirtedness effects friendships.

Adventures on ridiculous mid-winter break

     

As a southerner, the idea of a mid-winter break in February for a week sounds ridiculous. Really, it is. I totally get that kids and parents need a break from school and agree. I just don't agree with a whole week! Luckily, I am a part-time WAHM right now and get to spend breaks with them. I do truly enjoy it, but it's exhausting and I need breaks!

     Today, my friend, L and I planned a fun adventure to Liberty Science Center in NJ. Quite the schlepp from Brooklyn. It's not far, but it would take three trains to get there. Together, we each had a backpack and four kids ranging from 5-9. I cannot even tell you how many snacks we packed and were consumed. Guess what, as L pointed out later in the day, we received NO dirty/disapproving looks on the trains. 

     The day was gorgeous and the kids played outside after our second train landed us in NJ. One reason L and I get along so well is that our kids were playing on parked citibikes for about 20 minutes and we were both good with it. They needed to PLAY. 

     We decided to hang out in the park area and eat lunch. Of course, someone had to pee. You can figure out where he went. We arrived at the Liberty Science Center and were pleasantly surprised at the lack of crowds! The kids were SUPER excited to try out controlling a robot and climbing in a super cool structure. We watched a movie and were the only ones in the theater. When was the last time that happened!?

     Dinner at Chipotle happened and the kids started getting feisty (RE: touchy with their siblings). It was time to go! I shut down the snack bar and L was tapped out of food.  

     It took all the way until the subway for us to get disapproved looks. Honestly, the children sat away from their siblings and were not screaming or touching others. They were very goofy including Max (8.5) saying to KK and M: Truth or dare? KK: I have awesome hair! Most of our fellow passengers laughed at KK trying to pole dance or M trying to hide in his shirt. The lady who scowled at us had an epic stare and dirty look. I could learn from her! Our kids were oblivious to her dirty looks, but L and I noticed. Thank goodness home was near. L and I called it a success.      

Solidarity

This is motherhood. Solidarity.

Solidarity

“If you can’t control your children, you should have less of them," he snarled at us on the M57 bus in Manhattan on the Upper East Side. The bus was making a wide turn onto East End Avenue as I stared at him incredulously. Never will I forget how this made me feel; about as small as this period. I cried. 

We were sitting in the back on a very crowded bus. My two active boys, then four and one, along with a good friend’s son, also four, were sitting on their knees. looking out of the window being curious. They were not screaming or thrashing about (that had happened before). They were being children in a crowded city. 

I gathered my courage beyond my tears and told him that it’s hard enough raising children in the city that I didn’t need him criticizing me. Proud to stand up to him, but still shaken by the incident, my tears kept flowing.

Living in Manhattan was never apart of my dream. My husband was in training and it led us to the city. I was determined to make the best of it; living in a two bedroom/one bath walk-up with four people and less than 600 square feet. 

"It’s an adventure,” I told myself. 

After three years in Manhattan and another year in California, his training is complete. Guess what, we are in Brooklyn now. Quieter than Manhattan, it’s still busy and judgmental. 

Now eight and four, the boys are watching my reactions to criticism of parenting in public. 

I’VE HAD ENOUGH. 

No “aha” moment happened except while traveling to Newark along with friends, a lady of a certain age (she definitely qualified for senior citizen benefits), doled out the nasty looks at Penn Station while our children were walking on the right side of a pathway. By the way, she was on the right walking in the opposite direction. I said, to no one in particular, “walk on the right, please.”

With 45 in office and the Me Too movement in full momentum, I ask that parents and care givers everywhere, not just in New York City, join the solidarity movement. Solidarity for supporting other parents safe choices. Solidarity for standing up to snarls, nasty glances, and judgement. If the child is safe, solidarity.

Instead of judging, think back to a time when you felt the way I did as a young mom on the bus, struggling. Ask if that parent wants help by saying, “Is there anything I can do?” or “How can I help you”? If a kid is throwing a tantrum, it’s ok. Maybe they are tired or hungry or sleepy or haven’t seen their dad in four days. 

Give the care giver the benefit of the doubt. It’s hard enough to parent today without the nastiness. Just by smiling at the parent of the tantruming child, you are saying to them, “You will be ok; this is not about you; SOLIDARITY”. 

2011 reflections

My cousin, Lauren, is great about keeping up her blog. My stepmom, Lynn, is also. I just forget about it. Since I'm pregnant with Max's sibling, I thought I would try again. I know I will have some long nights ahead of me, so I might as well blog away! I'm on FB, Google+, and now Pinterest. Lauren posted all about 2011 and I keep thinking about our year last year. Unfortunately, my post will not be as light-hearted as hers.

2011 started off with a ton of snow! I was teaching third grade and definite about not returning in the fall. Having a busy husband and no family around caused me to make this decision, along with the fact that I felt like I was doing nothing well. I wasn't a great mom or teacher or wife. So, I left the classroom in June and amazed I made it to the end of the school year. In February, my principal died of lung cancer. This was just the beginning of several cancer deaths for us last year. He was a wonderful man and was always positive and encouraging. Max enjoyed being in school, but I definitely missed him with my mind on all my children even when I was at home. We traveled to Tampa in February to visit family there. My Aunt Pennie was fighting another bout of breast cancer, but it seemed this battle would not end well. We met my mom and Issi there and had a great time visiting.

In May, Stephanie and I went to NYC for a girls weekend. We had a wonderful time until Saturday. Lou's mom had hernia surgery on Thursday and was found unconscious Saturday morning. It was decided that she should be transferred to Yale where she would be closer to us and Lou could monitor her. In the ambulance, she coded and never recovered brain function. I was incredibly sad for Lou. I was also sad for the relationship we never had. I know of friends who have wonderful relationships with their in-laws. We never had that. Lou took some time off of work and was by her side daily. It was a very trying emotional time. We moved her to New Haven in June where we could visit. Lou and I differed on end of life choices, which caused more stress in our lives.

In June, my friend, mentor, and boss died of breast cancer. Chris was in her mid-60s and led an amazing life. Max's bris was at her house. She was a straight-shooter and was incredibly giving and honest. I only hope I can be more like her. She's the founder of New Haven Reads. We had many talks while she was sick in the hospital and at her home. The last time I saw her, in early June, it was a rainy day and I had Max with me. I almost cancelled for no reason other than the fact that it was gross out. I'm so glad that I didn't. She was on oxygen, but we were still laughing and joking. I took off Max's shoes and out poured a ton of sand. I told her I was sorry and she just shrugged her shoulders and said, "No big deal, we can vacuum!" In true Chris fashion, there was no funeral. They held a memorial service in September that was quite lovely. I think of her when I'm at New Haven Reads. I think of her when I need some light-hearted parenting advice. I think of her when a book falls off the shelf at NHR or a child is excited about getting a word right. She's always there.

The summer was uneventful after that. My grandmother turned 94 and is still rather funny. Max and I did our annual tour of TN. In September, Pennie took a turn for the worse and we knew she was not long for this life. She spent her final days in her home surrounded by her awesome sons and her siblings. Max and I went to Florida and saw Pennie unconscious and I was able to say goodbye. While I was very sad and emotional, it was so lovely to be able to say goodbye and have time with family. Max was fabulous at cheering us up. Pennie played such a profound part in my growing up. She lived less than a mile away from my childhood home for many years and I woud see her and her children daily or weekly. I know from my mom, her good friend (despite being my dad's sister), that she gave my mom parenting advice. When Max was born, Pennie and David came to his bris. Pennie stayed with us the night before his bris. Max woke up several times, I fed him a few times and Pennie just got up with him at 5:30 and let us sleep. She was just that way. So often something funny happens or Max says something witty and I want to call her. As my dad tells my grandmother, "I don't think she has a phone where she is..."

October brought our first big snow that was forecasted to fall while Max and I were in Vermont with Rachel and Tristan. We left early, but the snow started pouring in Massachusetts. It was pretty brutal driving. We made it to Hartford and stayed! I thought it was going to be an awful winter, but it's been rather pleasant thus far.

November was great with my mom and Issi coming for Thanksgiving. Jenna, my stepsister, came down for the day also. We had a great turkey, stuffing, and a few sides. It was really nice to just have family at home and not be traveling.

In December, we all went to NY to celebrate Katie's bat mitzvah. What a weekend! Keith and Ellen really did a marvelous job! We had a wonderful time and the food was amazing. The morning my mom and Issi were supposed to leave the phone rang. It was The Mary Wade Home, where Lou's mom lived. She had passed away in her sleep. It didn't seem real to me until I saw her in the casket. She looked like her old self. Great hair, painted nails and proud stance. That's the way I will remember her, not as the patient semi-conscious. Lou's niece, Ashely spoke at the funeral about "The Nana I knew". It was such a fitting tribute to her memory of her relationship with her nana. This is the way I want to remember all of those who I know who died--the __________ I knew.

At the end of 2011, Max had the stomach flu, then I got it. My friend said it was an end-of-the year cleanse. I know that 2012 will be a better year. 2011 was brutal. Our new baby is due July 1 and we find out where we're moving to in June 2013. So far, so good.