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Preschool Gotcha

Apr 2nd, 2010 by

Hm. So, the cool thing about Simon’s days at KIP is that he has an entire emotional, intellectual, and physical life that is apart from me. I hear about preschool Simon, but by definition I can’t really know him except for what he and his teachers tell me. (This may change after spring break when I begin volunteering in the computer room.)

For the most part, I like that he has a separate life. I had no idea that he and Griffen were becoming fast friends until he told me yesterday that they played together and that he loved him. I was delighted to hear from Ms. Inessa today that “Simon is no longer shy at all” and wondered what she was seeing in music class these days.  It’s also a hoot when he pops up with some song, game, or knowledge that didn’t come from Matt or me.

Other times, this separateness can be unnerving. Like today. Yesterday was the KIP seder, and clearly Simon has been stewing over some of the information for the last 24 hours. We realized this earlier today when Simon asked Matt:

“What are the Jewish people, and why are they sad about the babies?”

Oh boy. I’d be better positioned to answer this if I knew what exactly they were told about the story of the Ancient Hebrews in Egypt. Did they tell the kids about Pharaoh’s decree that all the newly born male Hebrew babies be left to die? Or was this about the tenth plague, the slaying of the first born? I’m guessing the former, and had planned to side-step much of the story until Simon was much older.

Thankfully, I managed to dodge the tricky part of that question  by  focusing on the first part. It wasn’t/isn’t so hard to tell Simon that I am Jewish, that his Bubbie and Zadie are Jewish, that his uncles Steve and Perry are Jewish, and that his friends Baron, Veronica, Sophie, and Leah are Jewish. And God knows, I’m much rather talk about who is Jewish (Adam Sandler’s “Hanukkah Song” springs to mind), than delve into the darker chapters of Jewish history and folklore. “Simon, did you know that Kirk and Spock are both Jewish?…”

I’ve also been pondering my own reluctance to tell Simon anything at all bad. Intellectually, I know that kids hear violent fairy tales with little ill effect. It seems they are pretty sophisticated in their literary analysis from an early age. But I am just horrified by such stories and can hardly conceive that it doesn’t terrify little ones. So I’m projecting like mad.

I also think I’m hoarding his innocence. I’ve been lucky so far, in that other than references to mine and Matt’s grandparents, we have not had to mention death, disease, violence, natural disasters, loss, or separation to Simon. At three and a half, he still lives in a world where everyone is here, everyone is well, everyone is nice, and only good things happen. I doubt I can sustain that much longer; I am not even sure how long it’s desirable to sustain such a fairy tale. But he is so sensitive that I want to keep it going for as long as possible. And if I’m totally honest with myself, sustaining this fairy tale is as close as I can come to living in it myself, and I don’t want to have to give it up either.

So please, please, please, let him not ask me about the babies again.

Posted in Jessica, KIP (Preschool), Simon says... | 1 Comment »

Maternal Sole II: How I Plan to Spend My Summer

Mar 31st, 2010 by

A photo essay.

I still maintain that my shoes convey much information about my state of mind. Earlier, I documented my transformation from urbanite to earth mother to rejuvenated working mom.

Now, right on schedule, my jonquils have bloomed, and my glorious career has been boxed up mailed to Boston and Berkeley. So what does unemployment look like?

Well, it looks like this:

The future's so bright, he has to wear shades.

That’s Simon playing ball in the front yard tonight. Matt was off at a friend’s house, and the two of us had a lovely evening together.

And how does this relate to shoes? Easy. My foot is excruciatingly hard to fit. Last year I had little success for spring/summer shoes, nor did I fare well the year before that or the year before that. To round out my spring/summer shoe wardrobe, I need nearly everything except for super-casual sandals. But I didn’t buy nearly everything–my new budget doesn’t allow that. Nope, I bought two pairs.

I bought these:

Ecco Yarrah

The Ecco Yarrah sport mary jane in shadow white/concrete is what I plan to wear when I’m out on walks and running around in the park with Simon. I got them on sale at Dillard’s, and I will have to scotch guard them before I dare wear them out, because these poor shoes are going to be abused.

And I bought these:

Castaner Irina

Aren’t they amazing? This is the Castaner Irina 3.5″ espadrille in black denim with gold buckle and ankle straps. Made in Spain. Ordered from Spain at espadrillesetc.com. These are for when Simon is with a sitter and Mommy gets to go out with Daddy and be fabulous. These shoes are all about sunny summer days with nary a care in the world. I hope that they, too, get abused this season.

Posted in Jessica | 2 Comments »

A Different Night

Mar 30th, 2010 by

View from the head of the table

Last night, with a ton of help from my mother, I hosted my very first Passover seder. A hybrid preschool/family affair for 14, I went into it with a few clear-cut goals:

  1. Create a seder that was short and sweet enough for 3- and 4-year-olds to sit through;
  2. Cook a vegetarian Passover dinner;
  3. Invite new friends;
  4. Include family I don’t usually celebrate Passover with;
  5. Innovate enough to make it fitting for the time, place, and crowd;
  6. Maintain enough traditional elements—preferably in Hebrew—that I could be reminded of seders back at my Bubbie and Zadie’s house in Woodbourne Ave.

It was a tall order, but today I’m feeling Passover triumphant (and tired, but that’s another subject). The guest list included my cousin Dana, her mother Toby, and her husband Michael. I’ve never had a seder with Michael before, but Dana’s parents used to drive from St. Louis to Louisville for seders back in the ‘70s. Dana and her sister Cindy were teens and would show up wearing long dresses that to my pre-school eye were the very epitome of glamour.

The guest list also included new friends Sharon and George. This was a savvy move on my end, as Sharon is a cantor who co-officiated the service and graced the table with her beautiful voice. Sharon and George were joined by their lively not-quite-four-year-old daughter, Leah. Rounding out the group was Leah’s best friend from KIP, Lauren, accompanied by her brother and her parents, one of whom grew up in Louisville and suffered through Sunday and Hebrew school with my brother Perry. In between our first knowing each other and our re-acquaintance last fall, a mere thirty years has passed.

Seder innovations arrived in the form of a seder-plate scavenger hunt, careful use of props and hand gestures, and telling the story of the Exodus via kid-friendly songs. (Well, part of it anyway. We skipped the whole slaying of the first born bit and stuck with baby Moses, frogs, and freedom.) Food innovation arrived via some Sephardic recipes, creating vegetarian versions of old classics, loosening some dietary restrictions, creating an appetizer course out of the pre-dinner service, and finding kosher wine that was actually potable.

Bowing to tradition, we asked the Four Questions, spilled wine drops for the plagues, recited the full Kiddush, and sang a lot of great songs in Hebrew or Aramaic. I also hauled out a recipe for potato petselech (or bilkas) that that my great-grandmother used to make before I was ever born.  Nearly three hours after our gathering began, with bellies full and cheeks pink after a rousing rendition of Echad Mi Yodeah and Chad Gadya, we all sat back awash in satisfaction and nostalgia. It was time to put the little kids to bed, but Sharon and I both felt that somehow we had been transported to seders of our youth and stopped to savor the moment.

For her, it was all about her grandfather, who crooned through the closing of the seder Sinatra style. For me it was about my Bubbie and Uncle Dave, and also about my siblings and cousins. When I watched Simon take off with Lauren and Leah to play, racing upstairs to get away from the boring adult dinner, it didn’t take much to recall my own young self running off  to the basement with my brothers and cousins, escaping dinners I thought were equally boring thirty years ago.

I half-way wondered if, instead of Elijah dropping by to drink the fifth cup of wine, my Uncle Dave would arrive—vacuum in hand—to sweep up my dining room just as he did at the close of my Bubbie and Zadie’s seders those many years ago. Perhaps next year I’ll put the vacuum in the living room, open the door, and see what happens. Thanks but no thanks Elijah, I can drink an extra glass of wine myself!

Things were just on the cusp of getting seriously sappy—so many memories, so many dear people gone—when Sharon broke the seriousness with a well placed crack. We had just observed how familiar much of the seder would have been to the last generation and how much they would have enjoyed it, when our attention wandered to the leftover vegetarian food in front of us. Our grandparents wouldn’t have recognized that, I mused, not in a million years.

“Maybe that’s the fifth question,” Sharon quipped. “Our grandparents are up in heaven saying [insert Yiddish accent here], What the hell are they eating?”

Happy Passover, everyone.

Coda: Today Simon asked to sing Dayeinu. We clearly did something right!

Posted in Family, Friends, Jessica | 2 Comments »

Si Podemos!

Mar 28th, 2010 by

Simon is turning into quite the little helper. Matt and I try to encourage this as much as possible, and our weapon of choice is positive reinforcement:

Great job putting all the pillows back on the bed, Simon.

“I like it when you put your toys away, Simon. It helps me keep the house neat, and I appreciate it.

“Thanks for being such a good helper, Simon.

“Simon, when you play so well with a friend and share, you are a great host. Being a good host makes you a good friend, and that makes Mommy and Daddy very proud of you.”

I’m sure it sounds nauseating to outsiders, but as much as possible we try to catch Simon being good and praise him for it. Much as with the negative side of discipline, he’s mirroring it back to us with hilarious results.

Like today, when he needed some mommy time (I’ve been getting ready for Passover), and I needed to change the sheets on the bed. I decided to enlist his support, as I have in the past. He helps me sort laundry in the bedroom these days, too. Anyway, he clearly understood the gravity of the situation, as he took one look at our rumpled bed and declared, “Mommy, your bed is a mess!” His “job” was to take the sheets that I handed to him and put them in the hamper, to “help” me put the sheets on the bed, and to put the pillows and throw back on the bed when we were almost finished. Throughout this adventure, he praised me so much I could barely get a word in edge-wise to praise him.

Great job taking that sheet off, Mommy.

“Great job putting that sheet on, Mommy.

“Ooooh, Mommy, that blanket is so heavy. You are doing a great, pretty job.

“Thank you for being such a good helper, Mommy.”

And then my absolute favorite, taken from the Spanish language commercials for Bob the Builder (theme song, “Can we build it? Yes, we can!”): and applied to our domestic projects:

Si podemos!!!!

Come to find out, this positive reinforcement thing works both ways. By the end of our session, I was feeling great, was eager to change the sheets on his bed, and was reluctant to hand him over to his daddy so I could do more Passover prep.

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

Plus ça Change…

Mar 25th, 2010 by

… plus c’est la même chose.

Tuesday was just the second time this spring (spring!) that we have had the time, light, and weather to go outside after dinner. After Simon explored the alley and played in his little house for a while, Matt and I decided we should treat ourselves to a trip to Ce Fiore, an Italian dessert place about a half a mile away on Bardstown Rd.

This must have been our first trip since at least October, and quite possibly August or September. Some aspects were new: Simon walked half the way there and the whole way back, he climbed up onto his seat on his own, he ably fed himself with no problem (eating ice cream with a spoon requires some skills), and he threw away his garbage when we had finished. And while we ate, he carried on a complete conversation that was much more sophisticated than what he could manage six or so months ago. These new aspects highlighted his growth and development and were a treat for his parents.

Other aspects, equally delightfully, remained unchanged. He wanted to push his own stroller, just like he did last year. When we walked Ce Fiore, he asked if he could get purple ice cream, if I could get green tea ice cream, and if we could share each other’s, just like he did last year. He made eyes at several attractive women he ran into on the way to and at the shop, just like he did last year. On the way out, he enthusiastically thanked everyone and called out “Goodbye ice cream store!”  just like he did last year. And once we walked outside and he noticed the triangular stretch of  sidewalk between the store and street, he looked at me with a gleam in his eye and took off running in circles. Which is just like he did last year until July or so, when he started to freak out over loud traffic noises and abruptly stopped.

The more things change, the more they remain the same.

Simon may keep growing and going into and out of various phases, but he always seems to revert to his old habits and old self.

Posted in Jessica, Little Boy | 1 Comment »

Last Days

Mar 23rd, 2010 by

Ten days ago, work was getting to be a drag. I was working (a little) in an isolated cell, I was sick, and I was feeling a bit blue.

Then something funny happened. Simon got sick, further restricting how much time I had to wrap things up, and I got busy. The clock was ticking down, I had a list to transfer, and it was time to pass the baton to my colleagues. So I wrote my active authors and key back-list authors the Sunday before last. Then I wrote my co-workers a farewell note. And this week, with just a couple of days left, I wrote prospective authors and those authors deeper on the  back-list.

As a result, my last seven days have been an extended Sally Field moment. They like me, by George, they really like me. My phone, my poor phone that has rung so pitifully little in the last six months, has been ringing off the hook. My inbox, a sad trickle of its former self, has been overflowing with tidings. I’ve had authors call to make sure I was OK, authors call to find out the real story behind my rather vague letter, authors indignant on my behalf, authors happy for me, and authors offering references and networking referrals.

I’ve had authors write polite letters to my successor and then inflamed, emotional letters to me at my personal email address. Some authors I thought were arrogant jerks have been gracious, kind, and offered help. Some authors have been intrigued by my attitude, admitted their own career uncertainty, have asked for updates on my search. Some have charmingly assumed I am off to the competition and are trying to bolt with me. I’ve also been flooded with well wishes and genuine acts of friendship from many of my coworkers.

I have, in short, connected with more people on a more honest level during my exit than I have in the last eighteen months on the job. Not coincidentally, I have been happier at work than I have for many months. Sometimes it takes third party intervention to realize how stuck you really were and help get you unstuck.

Part of this reminds me very much of my experience leaving my first career, academia. The palpable relief is certainly familiar. But another part is very new. When I left my graduate program, I was not totally honest about it. I ran off to California talking of dissertation research, never did a thing, placed a furtive phone call to end it a year on, and then went into a self-imposed exile.  Twelve years on, I have taken control, said all my goodbyes, and leave with no shame.

It may be too late to go down some paths. My hair might be graying, and my recall might be slowing. But rarely have I felt the advantage of age as profoundly as I have this week. It’s good to be a grown-up.

Posted in Career Change, Jessica | 3 Comments »

Simon’s Clues

Mar 21st, 2010 by

Simon is in love with a show that ceased production the year he was born. The love affair was launched nearly a year ago,  when my mother popped an old VHS tape of Blue’s Clues into her player.  I wondered then if the show would stand the test of time. Did it ever.

He adores Blue’s Clues. And while the show remains a once-a-week treat at Bubbie’s house, we did dig up some old books a few weeks ago (these formerly belonging to Liv, Maddie, and Ben) to bring the magic home. You would think after a dozen or so readings, the mystery behind Blue’s Cool Idea would lose some of its power. But Simon still shrieks with delight every time he sees a blue paw print on the orange juice carton, the pop sticks, and the freezer. (Blue’s solution for cooling off on a hot summer day? Frozen juice pops.)

So deep does his love run, that he’s begun trying to wheedle his way into things he wants by offering me clues. Last week, Simon was angling for a glass of orange juice. His normal M.O. would be to fix me with the most sparkling smile possible, cock his head to the side, and launch a full-on charm assault. The smile and cocked head were still there, but this time Simon threw in some clues to help further his cause.

“Mama. I think I’d like a little something to drink. Maybe something really cold that’s in the fridgerator. Maybe something with a “j” in it. Mama? What do you think? Maybe something that’s orange, too.”

He got the glass.

Then yesterday, he tried it again:

“Mama, I think I’d like a little snack. Maybe something hot. Something that has icing on it. A hot cross bun!”

He sort of gave it up that time. And once more, his tactic was effective. You could say I’m giving in or being manipulated, but I figure this degree of cleverness deserves to be rewarded. Plus, I have a weakness for hot cross buns and OJ myself.

Posted in Jessica, Little Boy, Simon says... | No Comments »

Mr. Pink

Mar 17th, 2010 by

Yesterday I betrayed a value I hold pretty dear, and I’m not at all happy about it. You see, I lied to Simon about something, which I don’t like, and in doing so I complied with rigid gender stereotypes I find stifling and ridiculous.  You know that saying that if you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem? Well, I tend to believe it. Meet Jessica, part of the problem.

The issue is that I’ve been shopping for summer shoes for Simon on discount web sites. I found a great pair of water shoes at a 75% discount, a pair of yellow duck Polliwalks to replace his green frogs from last year. He was excited about them. But while I was consulting with him, he found a pair that he liked even more and enthusiastically pointed them out to me:

Hot pink duck Polliwalks.

Now, to be honest, these would not be my first choice on many grounds. Hot pink won’t look good on Simon with his warm coloring, and hot pink won’t go with the rest of his clothes. But the thing I don’t care about is that hot pink is a “girl” color. I find that association to be ludicrous bordering on offensive. For starters, why are some colors male and others female? For seconders, why do we have to shove three-year-olds into rigid gender categories? For thirders (is that a word?), a hundred years ago, pink was considered a masculine color, so the rigid gender roles are not only stupid, but also random and arbitrary.

So for heaven’s sake, why can’t my adorable little boy enjoy hot pink shoes without it becoming a giant statement? And I guess the answer is because it will be giant statement to others, and we don’t live in a vacuum.  I’d happily say “to heck with it–let people say what they will” if the gossip would be confined to me. “Did you see what Jessica let her son wear? What was she thinking?” Let them say that, I don’t care.

What I do care about is what other children might say to Simon. And according to the school director, even at this tender age, Simon’s peers are likely to notice a boy in pink shoes and say unkind things to him.  How depressing is that?

So there it is. Yesterday, when the subject of hot pink duck shoes came up again (he raised it, not me), I looked at his excited little face and straight up lied.

They don’t have them in your size, honey. I’m so sorry! How about yellow ducks. Bright yellow like lemonade. That’s good for a hot day, right? They’ll match the lemonade frozen juice pops we’ll make when it’s hot.

You can tell I’m lying by how long I ran on about the wonders of yellow. Thankfully, Simon is less artful and bought it. I still think he’d rather have the hot pink ones, but he’ll  be OK. And I’m still sad about lying to him about it, but I guess I’ll be OK, too.

Posted in Jessica, Little Boy | 1 Comment »

Like Father Like Son

Mar 15th, 2010 by

It’s been obvious since, well, birth, that Simon is more like his dad then me. It began in the neonatal ICU, when his blood type, inherited from Matt, was at odds with mine, resulting in massive jaundice. A few months on, I realized that he had his father’s coloring and face shape. A few years on, and there is no missing that he has his father’s body type. Simon at three is nothing so much as a shrunken version of the guy I met at 16 with his narrow shoulders and frame, long lean limbs, and impossibly skinny waist.

He’s got his father’s cautious, observer personality, too. I’m more than fine with all of this. Having a “little Matt” around is pretty cute. But there’s one thing he could have skipped. Yesterday, Matt went to the doctor and was diagnosed with an ear infection. Today, Simon followed suit. It would seem that both of them get positively hammered by allergies, and that both of them are similarly prone to sinus and ear infections. My poor guys!

The creepy thing about Simon’s most recent ailment is how stealth it’s been. The entire family has been in a collective allergy attack for over a week now. I had a mild bug last week that presented itself in the form of a low-grade fever and fatigue. Since Friday, Simon has had a low-grade fever (between 99 and 100.3 degrees) and has been fatigued. But that’s been it. The fever has been medicated with Tylenol and Advil, the allergies managed with Sudafed, and he’s seemed mostly OK. He’s slept fine, he’s eaten some, and he’s played off and on.

Today I brought him to the doctor only because it was his fourth morning with a fever, and the rule is that kids go to the doctor if a fever lasts more than three days. So feeling a tad silly, I dragged Simon in to see Dr. Newstadt to verify that he had allergies and a mild bug.

Good thing I did! He may have strep. And he definitely has ear infection. In fact, his left ear is so swollen that the doctor fears it might burst before the antibiotics take effect. The last time he had an ear infection, his temperature hit 106 degrees and he stayed up shrieking through the night. There was no missing that this kid was sick!

So how in heaven’s name can he have an ear-drum rupturing infection with only a low-grade fever and no complaints of pain? I’ll never know. But what I do know is that next time, we hit the doctor’s office on the THIRD morning with a fever.

Posted in Jessica, Little Boy | 1 Comment »

Harmonic Convergence(s)

Mar 14th, 2010 by

Some days, everything just comes together, and today was one of those days. Matt would disagree, as he is dealing with an ear infection. And Simon would disagree, as he is nursing the same bug I had last week. But I, at least, have had a pretty swell day after many rather tedious ones.

It began in Target of all places. Nineteen years ago, when I lived in England, I coveted Liberty of London prints. Just adored them. Alas, they were out of my price range. Several years on, I had the cash, but no access and had moved on style-wise. So what collection hit Target today? Liberty. And who was there to scoop up any and all that caught my eye? Me.

I happily came home with correspondence notes, a mug, a very cute top, and a whiff of my youth—all for under $35, as befits my new adjusted-for-unemployment budget. Lovely. The top is sleeveless and it will be in the 40s tomorrow, but I might just wear it anyway!

The second act arrived at Congregation Adath Jeshurun, where “kosher gospel” musician Joshua Nelson performed earlier tonight. Like many Jews, I love jazz and gospel. Also like many Jews, I’ve always worried it was not quite OK to sing along with gospel, especially if, you know, Jesus crept into the lyrics. So I’d smile and nod and hum. And if I was alone in the house, I’d let it rip (off key) and worry lightening might strike, be it from a Jewish God angry at my apostasy or a Christian one angry at my blasphemy I was never sure. I just new it was bad.

So here comes Mr. Nelson, an African-American of Senegalese descent who happens to also be Jewish and grew up in a Sephardic congregation in New York. One day he thought to marry the musical stylings of one side of his heritage with the liturgy of the other, and thus “kosher gospel”, AKA gospel nice Jewish girls can sing, was born. Hallelujah!

I have to say, Mr. Nelson, former Hebrew school teacher that he is, presented a much more enticing flavor of Judaism than many of my Hebrew teachers did. (Call out here to the one notable exception, Zmira Gold, a truly lovely woman who I saw at the concert tonight.) On the one hand, here’s Nelson talking about harmony and diversity and how we’re all OK as we are and then ripping out “Hine Ma Tov” to the tune of “Saints”. Ecumenical clapping, Jewish side-to-side swaying, and decidedly un-Jewish standing and dancing encouraged all the while.

Whereas I grew up with at least one teacher who called me stupid and threw chalk at me in class. This person (name withheld to protect the guilty, ah what the heck Mrs. Israel T. Naomani)  is/was the number one reason I hate my Hebrew name. Well, that and because it’s ugly. Wonder which approach I would have best responded to…..

If it wasn’t enough to be in the throws of guilt-free gospel, I had a bit of a convergence of people, too. I recognized folks from Keneseth Israel there. I bumped into cousins from both sides of my family. I was surprised to bump into my pet-sitter. I had a nice chat with Simon’s pediatrician. And my friend Gabriel was there with three other Sudanese (Lino, Aciek, and Luol), his connection being that his boss was a concert sponsor, that he told his life story at AJ last fall, and that the rabbi has been raising money to help bring his wife and daughter here from Sudan. Turns out the campaign just reached its goal, and I found out just in time to introduce Gabriel to Simon’s pediatrician, because hot diggity he’s going to need one soon.

So there it was: Two old musical traditions coalescing in an exciting new form. Old and new friends converging in ways equally coincidental and delightful. And as I think about it, I’m drinking some excellent tea out of my Liberty of London mug. Nothing but blue skies ahead, baby!

Posted in Jessica | 1 Comment »

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