October 1, 2012 · 9:07 am

Question

Dylan came home from school one day last week and almost immediately drew this:

Let me translate.  It says: “cookies? Mom? Dad? Alexander?”  Alexander, in case you’re wondering, is one of his cousins who live in California.  While we’re on the topic, Dylan’s new answer to the question, “What do you want to do when you grow up?” is “I want to live in California with my cousins.”  The thing on the bottom is an elevator (use your imagination), and the stick figures on either side (keep using your imagination) are Mike and me.  (Picasso, he is not.)

He learned about the question mark at school, and all of the sudden any statement can be transformed into to a question bursting with possibility.

“We can play soccer” becomes “We can play soccer?”  (*Yes we can!)

“We can swing” becomes “We can swing?” (*Yes we can!)

“We can run” becomes “We can run?” (*Yes we can!)

“We can eat” becomes “We can eat!”  (*Yes we can!) (God willing!)

He hasn’t learned about the exclamation point yet (that I’m aware of), but it’s coming.  I know it!  Babies are cute and everything, and first rolls, steps, and words are incredible, but in my mind, nothing compares to the amazingness of witnessing my five-year-old learn to read and write.

Is it awesome?  Yes it is!

September has been was a busy month.  (When I began writing this post, it was September.)  Without much warning, my days have become filled with homework, PTO responsibilities, volunteer hours, school fundraisers, after-school activities, birthday parties, and play dates.  On top of that there’s Riley’s preschool schedule, food therapy three evenings a week, laundry, cooking, and, if I’m lucky, watching some television on the DVR.  (Did you watch The Mindy Project?  It’s cute.  No wait, it’s cute!)  Beyond that, there have been family birthdays, anniversaries, Jewish holidays, and the cold/cough/bronchitis thing that is still causing us grief.

Has everything changed?  Kinda, sorta.  Yes!  The rhythm of having two kids in (the same) preschool has shifted dramatically.  But like any new dance, practice makes perfect better.  When will it end?  Good grief.  I have a feeling this pace will continue until Dylan and Riley graduate high school.  This time of year – from September to January – has always felt like someone pressed the fast forward button.  Those of you who know me well know that – yes – I’m already planning worrying about Dylan’s birthday party in early December, and – yes – I’m also thinking worrying about gift ideas for the holidays.   There are only 84 days until Christmas!  (In case you’re wondering, Hanukkah is 67 days away.)

If you don’t hear from me quite as often (at least for a little while), just know that I’m here doing my Mama gig – spelling (yup, still spelling), watching in awe as my first born learns to read and write (!), and figuring out how to carve out some extra space for this writing gig that is – without question – what I want to do when I grow up.

*This is not an intended endorsement for Barack Obama, but well, that wouldn’t be so bad, would it?  (Don’t answer that question if you don’t have anything nice to say.)

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Filed under Christmas, Hanukkah, school, time management

September 26, 2012 · 12:38 pm

Easy. Fast.

Last night when the boys were taking a bath, I reminded them that it was Yom Kippur.  On Yom Kippur, also known as the Day of Atonement, we ask God for forgiveness for our wrong doings.  There’s a lot more to say about this holiest day of the year for Jews – about fasting, praying, and other rituals – but I don’t dare enter territory with which I’m not familiar.  Let’s just say, I recognize the significance of the holiday, and I want my children to understand it, too.

Back to the bath.  We talked a bit about the meaning of the holiday, and I asked the boys what they’d like to do to be a better person in the year ahead.  I looked to Dylan – the older, wiser brother – first.  His response was, “I’ll watch The Avengers.”  I reminded him that Yom Kippur wasn’t about movies, that it was about him and the people he loves.  He revised his answer.  “I’ll play with toys.”

When this happens – when Dylan doesn’t get it – I get frustrated.  I distinctly remember last year, when Dylan was asked at school about his wish for Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, it took him several days to come up with one that didn’t involve buying new toys.

After some additional prodding last night, Dylan said he’d be nice and not kick in the year ahead.  Not bad, but the thing is that he is nice and he doesn’t kick.  He’s almost six years old, and I wanted more from him.  I wanted him to think of something tangible, something real, like I want to be a good big brother or I’ll clean my toys.  As I scrubbed shampoo in Riley’s hair, he said, “I’ll wash Riley’s hair.”  Really?  “You mean, you want to be a better helper in the year ahead?”  I suggested.  He said, “Yes.”

These are the regrettable moments when instead of appreciating Dylan’s unique mind and way of processing the world around him, I get irritated.  This feeling was only amplified when Riley’s response to the same question was – without any help from me – “I want to sleep…in my own bed.”  Amen!  He totally got it.  At the age of three, he displayed an understanding of himself and the holiday that I wished Dylan had been able to do.

When it was my turn, I told them I wanted to have more patience.   I wanted to yell and say “no” less.  I wanted to have more fun.  Not surprisingly, I raised my voice (and said “no” at least a few times) when they were getting dressed after the bath because they were, well, lunatics.  I do want to have more patience with my busy and loud (they’re so loud!) boys who have a desire – a need, actually – to unbuckle themselves and play hide and seek in the car (in the car!) every time I turn off the engine, but what I really want is the strength to accept them without judgment for the exceptional human beings they are.  I love my boys the same, but by golly, I love them differently, too.  In the year(s) ahead, I hope to find it within myself to appreciate their individual gifts without getting lost in worry or frustration about their differences or letting a strength in one define a weakness in the other.

It’s not appropriate to say “Happy Yom Kippur,” (there’s nothing happy about fasting and repenting).  Instead, it’s proper to say, “Have an easy fast.”  On this important day, which is also a day off from school, Dylan woke up at 5:30 a.m.  Getting up that early wasn’t easy, especially since I took Nyquil last night because this cold just won’t quit, but today isn’t supposed to be easy.  I just hope it goes by fast.

To all who observe Yom Kippur, wishing you an easy fast.

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