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The Artist

May 22nd, 2012 by

Simon is a superlative child. In his class, he’s one of the three best readers (because he’s bright, interested, and older than most, not because he’s a genius), two best mathematicians, and two fastest runners. Also? He’s the worst artist by a comfortable margin. Mercy rules prevent me from quantifying how large a margin.

How bad of an artist is he? Let me count the ways. Actually, I’m going to let Simon do it. He came home from school today with his number book, which dedicated a single page to numerals from one to ten. Here’s what Simon drew for each:

  1. Dog, if you can call it that.
  2. Basketballs, which are more in his artistic wheelhouse.
  3. Marbles, see item above.
  4. Basketballs, sticking with what works.
  5. Flowers, helpfully labeled so as to prevent confusion with lollipops, which is what they sort of look like.
  6. Basketballs, back to his comfort zone.
  7. Basketballs, why mess with success?
  8. Basketballs, he’s in the zone, baby!
  9. Do I have to tell you?
  10. Yup, again.

I laughed so hard at this that my sides hurt. When I showed Matt, tears rolled down his cheeks. I’m not sure if it was the artistic ineptitude or the strategy deployed to circumvent it that was funnier. Either way, it gave us the best laugh of the day.

Posted in Jessica, Little Boy | 1 Comment »

Love & T-Ball

May 20th, 2012 by

Three weeks ago, Simon played his last soccer game of the spring season with Highland Youth Recreation League. Two weeks ago, Simon played his first t-ball game of the summer season with Highland Youth Recreation League.

That single week away from sports was really tough on him! Fortunately, he has his mom and dad to take him to Seneca Park—jointly and severally—to play soccer two to three times per week as well as running his Bubbie through her paces in her yard once or twice. There is no rest for the Simon-related!

Yesterday I dragged my camera out with me for the game, and through its lens I saw t-ball in a whole new light: the light of (very) young love. The girls have liked Simon for some time. I’ve had at least five moms tell me that their daughters have crushes on him. Then just last week another friend’s daughter informed her father that several of the girls in his class plan to marry him. We heard more about one girl’s plans at last week’s Spring Program (our last!), when her parents laughingly described their daughter’s plans to marry Simon at 8:00 p.m. on the beach at Hilton Head. Simon has even been involved in two mock weddings, made all the more charming by his utter obliviousness to what was going on.

But take a gander at these photos:

I think our little Romeo is figuring it out. He and Aubrey, pictured above, ran, chased each other, tickled each other’s knees with blades of grass, and threw their gloves on their heads and into the air for the better part of two hours.  The game was on, and that game was not necessarily t-ball.

So what to make of this development? At least one camp sits firmly in the “you are in big trouble” school of thought, anticipating devastating emotional attachments and who knows what else in middle school. I’m not buying it. I had my first crush at around the same age, and it didn’t lead me down any dangerous paths. What’s more, I can’t help but be pleased that Simon himself likes the nice girls best. His favorites are consistently the sweetest and most innocent of his cohort.

And finally, I attribute at least some of this to his basic personality and his life-long familiarity with girls. He’s always been way outnumbered by girls in his class, he’s always had the majority of his play-dates with girls, and he’s gaga over his two Sudanese sisters. I think, as much as anything, what I see above is the logical outcome of having a boy who is sensitive enough to relate to girls and familiar enough with them to know how to.

I guess we’ll test that theory in about 7 or 8 years. For now, I’m just going to sit back and enjoy the show.

Posted in Jessica, Little Boy | No Comments »

Fit to Be Tied

May 16th, 2012 by

Shoes, that is. Simon’s shoes.

Simon has been relegated to shoelaces for over a year now: we can’t find shoes with velcro closures that will stay on his skinny minny feet. (Sorry honey, that’s my fault.) Until a few days ago, however, he couldn’t tie them. So I spent a lot of quality time acting as Simon’s valet, and Sir Simon spent a lot of time literally being waited on hand and foot. He would sporadically attempt to learn to tie his shoes himself, but these efforts usually ended in cried of frustration.

The problem is, or was I should say, that I could not, as a righty, teach Simon how to do the job as a lefty. Every attempt left me (get it? left me?) with clumsy hands and and an odd knot of untied laces. Tying shoes doesn’t seem complicated until you try to do it with your non-dominant hand. Mirroring each other didn’t do it. Matt fared no better. So I finally did what I should have done ages ago:

I sent him to my Dad’s–the family’s only other true lefty. One evening with his Zadie, and Simon had the basics down and just needed to work on the fine motor skills to pull it off. A couple of days ago he did it. Yesterday he did it again. Today he did it twice. It’s official, he can now tie his shoes.

Just in time for kindergarten. Just in time. Congrats, honey!

Posted in Jessica, Little Boy | 1 Comment »

“Timo”

May 13th, 2012 by

That’s pronounced “Tie-muh” with a hint of swallowed “n” at the end, and it’s how Anyieth says Simon’s name.

Yes, you read that right, Anyieth, as in Agotich’s baby sister who is not yet one year old but who has been saying “hi”, “bye-bye”, “Mama” and who knows what else since she was 10 months old. Which happens to be the same age at which she began walking.

Anyieth, like many second babies I guess, is desperately trying to catch up with her big sister and join in the fun. She sat up early, she cruised early, and now she’s walking early. More excitingly to me, especially given her sister’s hesitancy, are her verbal and social skills. From very early days she made eye contact and babbled in response to my talking to her. In short order, the babbling took on the rhythm of adult speech and was accompanied on occasion by appropriate hand gestures.

Now, before turning one, she’s trying hard to add some vocabulary and start expressing herself. She’s nearly always smiling and appears to be a happy extrovert like her mother. Give her one more year, and this one will be quite the conversationalist.

And you know, it totally makes sense that she’d try to say Simon’s name. He’s a kid, but he’s been fussing over her since she was three months old. He kisses her all the time, oohs and aahs over her every development, engages her in play with her toys, and has taught her how to play ball. He loves her, and he’s been a great big-brother/older cousin figure to her.

Nor has her saying his name gone unnoticed by young Mr. Whitworth. He’s told everyone about it. The preschool director, his teachers, other moms we bump into, everyone. He’s obviously proud and honored by “Yetha’s” verbal accomplishment.

Oh yea, the other word she popped out with this week? “Ke-ka.” That’s me, and I’m honored to make her short-list of words. I don’t get to tell as many people as Simon, but I’m every bit as happy. That Yetha is a one-in-a-million baby.

 

Posted in Friends, Jessica | No Comments »

Mama’s Boy

May 10th, 2012 by

I think I’ve just run across a rare instance in which my Jewishness makes me a cultural outlier. And I do mean rare: In late 20th- and early 21st-century America, once you get past ham (maybe) and Santa Claus, the little things that you make you different from the American cultural norm are pretty little indeed.

But there I was yesterday, listening to my radio crush Jian Ghomeshi on NPR as he interviewed author Kate Stone Lombardi on her new book Mama’s Boy: Why Keeping Our Sons Close Makes Them Stronger. The premise of the book is that the mother-son relationship is characterized in a way no other parent-child one is and that close mother-son relationships are often presented as pathological in the broader culture.

I hung on just fine for the beginning. Yes, fathers and sons are portrayed quite positively if they play ball together, fish together, and otherwise stay close into adulthood. And yes, entire industries plug the closeness of the mother-daughter bond. And it’s undeniable that in the culture close father-daughter bonds are celebrated with things like father-daughter dances, positive references to “daddy’s little girl,” and even Facebook memes involving faux applications to “date my daughter.”

And, OK, I’ll concede that close mother-son relationships don’t fare so well in popular culture. The author talked about Psycho, Throw Mama from the Train, and Everyone Loves Raymond to name just a few instances in which close bonds between mother and son are portrayed as damaging. So that had me thinking, “Yeah, what’s up with that? Where are the mothers and sons in popular culture? Why is ‘Mama’s boy’ so different than ‘Daddy’s girl’?”

Then the moment of total disconnect arrived. The author began discussing her research, in which she interviewed hundreds of pairs of mothers and sons, most of whom were self described as being close. Except all the moms thought they were “different” or “odd” if they remained tight with their boys, and many of the sons would only describe the relationship they had with their moms if they were alone. Because of course, the author explained, in American culture there comes a time when moms are told they must push their sons away lest they ruin them. Lest they make Mama’s boys out of them. All these positive and close relationships are a cause for concern even among the involved mothers and sons.

At which point I thought, “Huh? Where? Who?” I was totally confused. Then it hit me. Did this woman talk to many Jewish mothers or sons? Because, speaking broadly and stereotypically, this is simply not the standard Jewish experience. We Jewish mothers do not expect to one day quit talking to or advising our sons. We don’t expect them to never feel comfortable confiding in us past the age of 10. We don’t expect to never hear about or advise on their personal lives. And while negative stereotypes of the overly involved and smothering Jewish mother are out there, I think the common assumptions are (1) it ain’t all bad and beats the alternative; and (2) the sin of Jewish motherhood is mostly one of degree, not type.

I fully expect to witness Simon’s increasing desire for autonomy and privacy. In fact, I consider it my job to help him become independent. I hope he’ll go away for college, enjoy living on his own when he moves into his first apartment, and find his own calling and life-partner without my interference. But I don’t expect to disappear from his life, and I sure don’t plan to push him away if he does need or want to talk to me.

So while Ms. Lombardi’s book might be a great read, and I hope it encourages mother-son closeness, I have no need to buy it. I just don’t have the cultural baggage that makes it necessary.*

*Nor do, I’m guessing, many other “ethnic” types. I have a sneaking suspicion that the Italian mother, Greek mother, Puerto Rican mother, Korean mother, etc. are similarly shaking their heads at this one.

Confidential to Amanda: I have heard that in Israel the type of mother we call “Jewish mother” is instead termed a “Polish mother.”

Posted in Jessica | 2 Comments »

Know Thyself

May 7th, 2012 by

Simon demonstrated a surprising bit of self-knowledge today. The two of us were in the car on our way home from driving Agotich back to her apartment when he asked me about something that had happened there.

“Why did Anyieth cry and try to leave the apartment?’

“Because she saw Agotich walk outside the door.” [Agotich tried to leave with us today and had to be yanked back inside by her mother. Seeing this, Anyieth made a run for it, too.]

“Did she want to come home with us?”

“Not really, she just wanted to do whatever her big sister did. Little brothers and sisters are always trying to keep up.”

“You mean like how Asher tries to keep up with Baron?”

“Yup, just like that.”

“Or how Agotich tries to keep up with me?”

“Yes, honey, she does try to keep up with you. You’re kind of like a big brother to her.”

“Or like how I try to keep up with Ben?”

I just smiled. Simon wants to be able to do everything his big cousin Ben can do, but Ben is four years older and very much out of his league. As the youngest in my own family by five and seven years, I am not surprised that Simon has these feelings. What surprises me is that he can describe and identify them!

 

Posted in Jessica, Little Boy | 1 Comment »

Foosball Follies

May 6th, 2012 by

Simon received a small Foosball table for Christmas last year from his grandparents, and, with all the soccer we’ve been watching lately, he has taken a renewed interest in it.  He’s constantly begging me to play, and if I’m too busy I frequently hear him in his room narrating a game that he’s playing against himself.  In the course of playing every night for the last few weeks, some pretty funny things have slipped out of Simon’s mouth.

After a couple of sound thrashings, I decided to take it easy on Simon for a game and he quickly got up on me 5-1:

I’m going to beat you like a tied up goat!

Really?  Why do I feel like Simon’s Pappaw has something to do with this.

A couple of nights later I really let him have it and got up on him 9-3:

Oh man — we’re gonna get relegated.*

Yup.  Definitely watching too much late-season English Premier League.

And finally, in a desperate move to wave off one of my goals:

That doesn’t count.  He was offside!

If you understand what “offside” means and how a Foosball table is set up, that last one is hilarious.  Trust me.

—–

* The bottom three teams in English Premier League get relegated down to the lower league for the next season.  The top three from the lower league get brought up to Premier League, but I don’t know the fancy word for that.

 

Posted in Little Boy, Matthew, Simon says... | 1 Comment »

Head Explosion

May 3rd, 2012 by

A few weeks ago, Simon’s pillow talk was an attempt to add two three-digit numbers. He asked me what 120 plus 120 was, and when I asked him to try to solve it himself, he came up with 140. When I reminded him that he needed to add the ones and then the twos, he got it right. Then he blew the next problem.

Still, the attempt was there, as was some understanding of place value. So a couple of days later, just for the heck of it, I drew up grids and filled them with three-digit addition problems. I explained how the columns were ordered, showed him how to go from right to left, and worked a few. Then I let him loose with about five more problems. He nailed them. So I got rid of the lines and added the plus and equal signs.  He nailed them, too.

Then he decided to write out a problem himself. As he’s five, he didn’t understand that each column needed to add up to 9 or less. Also because he’s five, he would take no direction from me once he decided that he wanted to do it himself. Then he got going, immediately came upon an 8 + 2 column, and sheepishly wrote 10 at the bottom of it.

“Simon? Does 10 fit there? I asked.

“No, it really doesn’t. I don’t know what to do!”

“Well, I can show you, but your head might explode. What do you think?”

“I want you to show me.”

So I explained the place value of each column to him, guided him to put the 0 on the right and carry the 1 over the middle column, and then told him to add the two left-most columns, including the one that now had three rows in it. He got it. Then I asked him to read the problem out loud to me, which he also got.

Then I asked him what he thought. He laid his head on the kitchen island in an exhausted heap. A few seconds later, he raised up, put his hands on either side of his head, and made exploding noises. I laughed out loud. Simon shared the laugh and then asked me to show him how to add four-digit numbers.

His head might be exploding now, but if he keeps this up, it won’t be when he hits calculus the way mine did. And I have to say, if Simon were going to choose areas in which to be unlike his mother, lover of math and player or sports are two extremely good choices. I hope both of these affinities stick around for the long haul.

Posted in Jessica, Little Boy | 1 Comment »

Moving On

Apr 30th, 2012 by

I find the endings of things to be very difficult, and goodbyes to be the most difficult of all. Even when I’m the agent of change, and even when it’s a change I’m excited about, the leaving part always leaves me with a lump in my throat.

So it happened that last Friday I checked our mail, found the acceptance letter from Brandeis, felt the initial surge of joy that came with getting into our first pick of elementary schools, and then ran off to pick up Simon and tell him the good news. At which point I pulled into the KIP parking lot, keyed in our security code, realized I’d only be there for three more weeks, and burst into tears.

Next year is going to be a big adjustment for more than just Simon. He’s going to have to get used to a longer ride, a longer day, a larger class, and lots of new people. And I’m going to have to adjust to letting go, as something tells me that the teachers don’t want me in their class every morning watching the kids settle in and making small talk. Nor will Simon be walking down halls he’s known for four years, past teachers who took care of him like family, and past some teachers and staff who have known me since I was at KIP myself.

Some friendships will be changing as well. Which brings me to a story I somehow never got to this year. The day after Halloween, Simon’s best friend Baron, his inseparable buddy since the end of the Itsy Bitsy class and the friend who left KI for another preschool this year, came back. He never quite settled into his new school, and after one particularly telling visit his parents decided to transfer him back to KI for his last year of preschool. He wasn’t placed in Simon’s class as there wasn’t an open seat, but the two boys would still see each other at lunch, on the playground, and during the classes’ shared activities.

It was a very happy reunion, with both boys delighted to be back in each other’s daily lives. Baron would come over to Simon’s class to say hi and give him a hug every morning, and they chased each other like crazy on the playground. The only real downside was that Simon’s other great friend, Braylon, had became Simon’s best school friend in Baron’s absence and felt threatened at his return. Simon didn’t know how to negotiate two best friendships, there was some competition for his attention, and feelings were hurt.

Then the story took an unexpected turn: Baron found a new best friend in his own class, and it’s Simon who’s left behind. I’m not sure how acutely Simon is feeling the pinch, as when he’s told me that Baron has a new best friend, he’s pretty matter-of-fact about it. Like two weeks ago, when I reminded him to wish Baron a happy birthday and give him a hug at school, this is what I heard back:

“Mommy, I told Baron happy birthday and went to give him a hug, but I couldn’t really do it because he was playing with Keon. I think Keon is Baron’s best friend now.”

I wasn’t sure how to feel or what to say in return. Was he upset? Did he need a hug? Or is Simon OK with this? He seems OK, but I wouldn’t be and it’s hard not to project my own feelings on the situation.

The funny thing about this is that I’m surprised and saddened by something that I should have seen coming. Simon is six months older than Baron and has a very different temperament. Baron is all about superheroes, video games, and chasing, while Simon is a little about superheroes, but much more into role-playing and organized sports. Baron finds some of school boring and hard to focus on; Simon loves school and hangs on to every lesson. Baron won’t play with girls (except one who also left last year); Simon loves to dance with Jillian, work on class projects with Nyankot, and counts Caroline and Ruby among his best friends. Simon wants to play basketball with Braylon and the kindergarten boys when they are on the playground, but Baron just wants to run and chase.

As does Keon, who is six months younger than Baron and has much in common with him. So I shouldn’t be surprised, except Simon and Baron were every much as opposite one another a year ago when they were totally inseparable. As Simon comes home as smiley and happy as ever, I’m not going to dig too deeply. I’m just really grateful that he’s met so many boys at basketball and soccer this year, that he will meet even more boys when baseball starts next month, and that we’ll hit the boy motherlode when kindergarten starts in the fall.

But even with all of that said and with much to look forward to, I still find the leavings, small and large alike, to be difficult, and I’ve still got a lump in my throat that isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Posted in Jessica, KIP (Preschool), Little Boy | 2 Comments »

BRANDEIS!

Apr 27th, 2012 by

We just found out about an hour ago that Simon got into the college… er, elementary school, of our choice. He’ll join his nephew Ben, and (I hope) some familiar faces from KIP and his spring soccer team. Two of Agotich’s cousins might be there, too, as they currently attend Brandeis’s ESL head-start program. Matt and I are both very happy.

It’s now safe to put away the Louisville Magazine school issue from last November, quit pulling school report cards from the web, quit playing with my Excel spreadsheets (yes, there was more than one), and quit second guessing our chances every time I learned of someone new applying.

Then again, I’ve only got six years to figure out the whole middle school thing, and I just found out that one of the schools I assumed would be a likely bet no longer pulls from our zip code. Kidding! (sort of)

Addendum:

For those wondering what Simon thinks about this, allow me to quote him. “You mean I’m going to Brandeis with my cousin Ben? … I’ll see Ben at school? … Will I be on the same bus as Ben? … You mean when you pick me up I might ride home with Ben?”

So, to summarize, Ben! Big Cousin Ben! He’s been called up to the big leagues, baby, and he’s feeling like a total hot-shot about it. Also, Ben!

 

Posted in Elementary School, Jessica, Little Boy | 2 Comments »

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