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Solid Citizen

Nov 11th, 2009 by

We have entered the era of “helping,” as Simon now wants to help Matt and me in all matter of chores.

Sometimes, his help is actually helpful. When Simon wants to pick up toys, put laundry in a basket, carry things to the table, or put handfuls of leaves in lawn bags, he is indeed a helpful boy.

Other times, his help is neutral. That is to say, it doesn’t really help me any, but I applaud the interest and don’t let on that he’s not 100% up to the job. Say, for example, when he helps wipe off a table or wash himself. He can’t do the job on his own, but I try not to let him see that. This means I end up furtively finishing a job when he’s not looking (wiping off the table) or coming up with a silly excuse to re-do a job (brushing his teeth).

And then there is work-causing help. This assistance has to be supported lest I undermine any future desire to help on his part, but it can be a real drag. When Simon wants to help cook, I have to figure out something he can do that won’t ruin our food or cause him bodily harm. When Simon wants to rake leaves, he usually spreads them out even more, but at least it gives me time outside to get the job done. Plus, little kids with rakes are ridiculously cute.

Last but not least—in fact last but most unfortunate—is Simon’s new self-imposed role as a one-boy litter removal service. The kid hates litter. We taught him to hate litter, hoping the message would stick and he’d never be the type to throw garbage out the window of a moving car when he’s sixteen. What I did not foresee was that the result of this civics lesson would be Simon handing me any and all manner of refuse left on the street, sidewalks, curbs, and parks of my, as it turns out, not-so-fair city.

He has handed me fast-food bags. Empty bottles. Broken glass from the same. Partially consumed, discarded suckers. Condom wrappers. (Thankfully, not the contents of the same….). And  perhaps my least favorite: cigarette butts. Each of these items is presented to me with extreme urgency.

“Mamma! Mamma! Mamma! What’s that? Here you go. Let’s go throw it away.”

When there isn’t a garbage can nearby, I have to stuff the garbage into a bag or pocket until we find one. When no pocket or bag is available, I have to just carry whatever disgusting detritus he has handed me. It’s nasty. But I have no idea how to explain to Simon that while littering is W-R-O-N-G, sometimes mommy just doesn’t feel like cleaning up.

For anyone out there wondering what to get Simon for the holidays, might I suggest one of those clamps on the stick that allows you to pick up litter without touching anything?

Posted in Jessica, Little Boy | 1 Comment »

Silly Girl!

Nov 8th, 2009 by

Matt and I have been hearing a lot of our own language parroted back at us lately. And we’re not alone. Just a few days ago a friend (the father of one of Simon’s classmates) described his daughter placing her finger-tips under his chin, lifting his chin up a bit, looking him in the eyes, and saying in a firm tone of voice:

“Look at me, Daddy. Look at me.”

I guess we know what Ms. Jill and/or Miss Judy sounds like, now! We both got a good laugh out of this.

In our house, Simon is mirroring me quite a bit. It used to be that if I did something he didn’t like, Simon would trot out the “I’m too tired”, “it’s too scary for me,” or “it’s too noisy for me” line. I still hear those excuses often. But lately I’m even more likely to hear this:

“No mommy. Don’t do that. That’s not nice.”

He’s also trying to tease me out of discipline, much as I sometimes try to tease him out of a funk. Just last night, I asked him to do something or other—I can’t remember now—and his reply was to look at me, get a certain gleam in his eye, twist his mouth into a sideways smile, and say in a particularly light tone:

“Oh, Mommy. You’re just a silly little girl.”

Nice try buddy! It won’t work, but I appreciate the finesse move.

Any day now the kid is going to count to three and wait for me to do something….

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

Fabulous Mommy

Nov 4th, 2009 by

Fabulous Mommy!

Fabulous Mommy!

I ran across this Vogue Italia editorial about six weeks ago (in the equally fabulous Project Rungay blog) and it still makes me smile. Click on the image to see the full pictorial. In my own little fantasy world–which is what the entire pictorial was about I suppose–this is exactly what I look like when I drop Simon off at KIP in the morning.

I’m afraid the reality is far, far different.

Posted in Jessica | 1 Comment »

A Little Levity

Nov 3rd, 2009 by

Man, between fear of layoffs and actual funerals, it’s been a bit serious around here, no?

Time to introduce some levity. In advance of Halloween, we read It’s the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown a million times. In fact, I’ve already blogged about that. With Simon, it can be hard to tell how much he understands sometimes. Did he really GET the story?

Well, he must have at least a little bit. In the first place, he kept pointing out pumpkins wherever he saw them.  Or, as he insisted to my mom, “GREAT pumpkins.” How cute is that?

And then, while we went trick-or-treating in my mom’s neighborhood, we heard him say this out loud as he approached a house:

“I need more candy for my brother.”

That would be Linus, the one who skipped trick-or-treating to make “his annual fool of himself” (sister Lucy’s words) in the pumpkin patch. This also explains why Simon kept saying he wanted to go as a witch for Halloween. Clearly, he has self-identified with Lucy. We’d love to dress him as Lucy dressed as a witch next year, but that might be a bit meta for the occasion.  Still, I’m not ruling it out.

The other high point was during the KIP Halloween parade. Last year, Simon started off OK, then saw me and fell apart. I ended up marching the parade with him to salvage things. This year Simon strutted out with confidence, was completely unphased when he saw me, Matt, and his grandparents, and even stopped to pose for photos. More accurately, he stopped to ham it up for the cameras. It was his red-carpet moment!

Finally, the third giant giggle of the weekend also came when I took Simon out trick-or-treating. We walked up to a house around the corner and a few houses down from my mom’s, whereupon the woman who answered it looked at me, leaned in for a closer look, and said:

“Did you grow up in this neighborhood?”

The minute I said “yes”, she knew exactly who I was. I probably last saw her when I last went trick-or-treating myself. Which is to say, a quarter of a century ago at the minimum!

Posted in Jessica, KIP (Preschool), Little Boy, Simon says... | No Comments »

The Ridiculous and The Sublime

Nov 1st, 2009 by

Not from one to the other, but both at the same time.

This week has been about Halloween. Which is, almost any way you look at it, a ridiculous holiday. You dress little kids up in costumes, go out door to door, and extort candy from neighbors on threat of vague “tricks”. How did such a thing ever develop?

I honestly don’t know, but with a three-year-old in the house, Halloween is big news around here. Simon’s class talked about it for two full weeks, KIP (Keneseth Israel Preschool) hosted a Halloween parade on Friday morning, and the kids all had parties in their rooms afterwards.

My mom and I spent the Tuesday before the big day bent over my dining room table making Simon’s costume. I settled on Daniel Boone after Simon had no ideas of his own. We pass by a statue of “Danny Boom” pretty regularly, and Simon likes to talk about him. So why ever not? I had a shirt from his Highlander costume of last year, I found a pattern for a faux suede fringed jerkin, and I figured I could always attach fake fur to a real hat to create a passable facsimile of a coon-skin cap.

But Monday night I found myself standing over nine cut-out pattern pieces on my dining room table wondering how I’d ever get them together. Because, ridiculously, I had purchased a pattern when I can only do very simple hand sewing and have never read or even really looked at a pattern before. I figured I could learn as I go or, barring that, simplify into something with fewer pieces if need be. As is frequently the case, my mom rescued me. She looked at the pieces Tuesday morning, looked at me with a bemused expression, looked back at the pieces, and then asked, “Can you find your sewing machine?” That question signaled that I was in way over my head and that the cavalry had arrived.

Meanwhile, out in California, my cousins Arnie and Jane were getting on a plane to Louisville because their father, my Uncle Dave, was in failing health. They expected to stay with me and Matt three nights, then witnessed their dad take a dramatic turn for the worse the same day they arrived and realized in short order that their stay was likely to be sadder, longer, and more profound than they originally planned.

By Wednesday, my uncle had had nothing to eat or drink for over 24 hours and the rabbi had come to help him say the Vidui (Jewish final confession or last rites). Thursday night, as I sat on the couch and struggled to affix craft fur to a hat, Arnie and Jane began an overnight bedside vigil. Friday, as I watched Simon march and strut in the school Halloween parade, my Uncle’s heart rate and breathing were both slowing.  In a bit of truly bizarre symmetry, late that afternoon, about the time I climbed into Simon’s bed to snuggle with him for a few minutes as he awoke from his nap, my Uncle drew his last breath and slipped into an eternal sleep as his children stood around his bed to bid him farewell.

Tomorrow morning, Simon will arrive at Keneseth Israel, a synagogue my uncle’s father (my great-grandfather) helped found, at 9:00 a.m. for preschool. An hour later, my uncle’s funeral will begin in the same building, a place that was his second home for his entire life. At noon, while Simon and the other preschoolers are eating lunch in the small auditorium, half of Jewish Louisville will be gathered in the large auditorium to enjoy honey cake and wine and talk about their Uncle Dave. (Trust me, he was “Uncle Dave”, to just about everyone in these parts, either by blood, marriage, or general association.)

The juxtaposition of the these events—the profundity of children shepherding their parent into death after 100 full years and the profound silliness of preschool Halloween—hasn’t been nearly as jarring as I expected. In a way, in fact, they seem to fit together, with the one reminding you that life’s ultimate goal is to live in the moment and enjoy youth and vigor and even silliness while you can, and the other reminding you that decisions matter, and that if you are lucky and wise you, too, might live to experience a fullness of days. These days were also a potent reminder that the old cannot keep going forever any more than the young can forever stay young.

It is for weeks like this, to partake in silliness and sadness alike, that Matt and I decided to move back home. And it is during weeks like this that our decision seems especially wise.

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

The Elephant in the Middle of the Blog

Oct 29th, 2009 by

Normally, October is my favorite month. The cluster of budget work, editorial meetings, and conferences that make August and September so hectic at work have wound down, the air takes on a refreshing crispness, the leaves turn glorious colors, and I get to indulge in steamed cider and caramel apples. Now that Simon has come along, I also get to plan his birthday party, have fun with Halloween, and sometimes even plan a family vacation to the Smokies.

Everything was on track this year, until the final days of September arrived and we learned that Matt’s organization was going to have layoffs. This was no random or vague rumor; those with his exact job title were on the chopping block. He was invited to fill out a form for HR, we call it the “justify your existence form”, check it twice, and wait to see if HR was going to be naughty or nice. The verdict was due to arrive at the end of this month.

That rather put a damper on things. I’d say we talked about the layoffs two or three times a day on a good day. More on a bad day. I thought about the layoffs much more often. My contingency plans had contingency plans. Still, doubts lingered: What if Matt could not find another job? How long before we should try to sell the house? What if we couldn’t sell the house? How long could we live on savings after severance ran out? Would we get foreclosed on? Move in with family? Live in our cars? Find a spot under a highway bridge? What if I then lost my job, too? What would we do about health care?

In an economy like this, how little or how much stands between you, former occupant of the stressed and dwindling middle-class, and destitution? Reading, I tell you, did nothing for the anxiety. Every single day headlines blared things like “Layoffs increasingly lead to foreclosures” and articles stated with devastating directness that “unemployment offices are seeing people like they never have before” or, my favorite, that “today, the average laid off worker has been out of work for over six months. Many will never recover financially.” The words “jobless recovery” loomed large.

We, of course, worried about Simon. Were Matt to be laid off, should some of the severance go to Simon’s college savings account? Could we keep him in preschool, which has been so very good for him? And that’s when I realized two very interesting things: (1) I was much more worried about not being able to sell the house than I was about having to move into an apartment or smaller house. Being stuck with something we couldn’t afford and then foreclosed on was the real worry. (2) I was much more worried about Simon’s future education and current routine than anything I might have to sacrifice. Cable? Gone. Cell phones? Gone. Eating out? Whatever. New duds? Who cares? Various stuff for the house? It can wait. It could all wait. Forever.

So many things that I thought I valued I turned out to not much care about. I also realized that Simon adds two interesting dimensions to any impending crisis. On the one hand, he eliminates the possibility of just slumming it. Realistically, Matt and I can’t go back to the undergraduate lifestyle with him around without making our lives (and his) much, much harder. So he’s a stressor.

On the other hand, he’s here, he’s lovely, and he makes me smile and laugh every single day. It was so hard to stay totally caught up in catastrophic thinking when Matt and I would tuck him into bed, or watch him blow out birthday candles, or show him how to jump into a big pile of leaves. I mean, how bad can it really be when we are all here, and all together, and all in love with each other? So he is a stress reliever, too.

That the word “here” has popped up twice in the previous paragraph is not coincidental. In case worrying about Matt’s job wasn’t enough, I also felt enormous guilt for being so worried. I have friends who have lost their jobs. I have other friends who work hard and struggle to support their families at even a basic level of comfort. And I have another friend who works hard to support his family thousands of miles away and whose child was recently quite seriously ill. So how entitled and princess-y is it to worry about losing stuff when others struggle so and often alone?

Tuesday, the stress finally got to the point that I ate Simon’s potty-training M&Ms. Then, later in the afternoon, we learned that Matt is OK. Matt and I joked for ages that if he didn’t get laid off, come October 31 we were going to go on the shopping bender to end them all. Now that relief is at hand, I find I have little stomach for it. I mean, I’m (maybe) getting a little table set for Simon, and I’m replacing my winter boots that fell apart at the end of last winter. But that’s about it. The rest, I dare say, is going to savings or charity, and more to the latter than the former. After all, now we’ve got survivor guilt to deal with….

Posted in Family, Jessica | 1 Comment »

Old MacDonald

Oct 27th, 2009 by

Here’s how to kick Old MacDonald three-year-old style:

Old MacDonald had a farm,

E, I, E, I. O

And on that farm he had a duck,

E, I, E, I, O

With a quack, quack here,

And a quack quack here,

Here a quack,

Everywhere a quack, quack,

Old MacDonald had a farm,

E, I, E, I, O.

And on that farm he had a X

“

“

“

“

Repeat for:

Cow, sheep, pig, kitty, and horse. Then, for the heck of it, throw in baby, car, puppy, and owl.

Then end with sheep, even if you already did that one, yell “yay!” loudly, and clap like mad.

Despite, or perhaps because of, the missing lines, the enterprise is pretty adorable. And much to my delighted surprise, Simon can already carry the tune pretty well. At the same age—ok, at twice his age or more—I was still very much a Johnny one-note.

Simon can also sort-of, kind-of say the pledge of allegiance. Words like “indivisible” are wobbly, and he skips the “one nation” part and goes directly to “under God”, but the pattern and intonation are spot on. And what spurred it in the first place was his rediscovery of a small flag from July 4. I guess you could call this the softer side of jingoism.

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

Yesterday

Oct 25th, 2009 by

Aptly enough, yesterday Simon mastered the concept of, well, yesterday.

Matt came downstairs to watch him while I went up to grab a shower and asked Simon if he needed a diaper change. The conversation went something like this:

Matt: “Simon, do you need a new diaper?”

Simon: “No, I’m fine.”

Matt: “So mommy changed it?”

Simon: “Yes, yesterday.”

He used the same word in a different but correct context later yesterday, too. This is pretty cool; up to now “yesterday”, “today”, and “tomorrow” were pretty meaningless for him. On the other hand, if he was trying to avoid a diaper change, he’s going to have to get a lot craftier in his responses.

Apropos to nothing, we also had this hilarious exchange yesterday, which took place when he saw a commercial for giant cupcake molds. [Aside, do we need bigger cupcakes?]

Simon: “I want the cupcake, Mommy.”

Me: “That cupcake? The giant cupcake?”

Simon: “Yes, Mommy.”

Me: “But Simon, a cupcake that big wouldn’t fit in your tummy!”

Simon: “It doesn’t go in my tummy, Mommy. It goes in my mouth.”

I thought this a pretty crafty response for a just-turned three-year-old. It also strikes me as the beginning of a more sophisticated pattern of argument from him. Since arguing is my favorite sport, I’m (almost) looking forward to watching those skills develop. Bring it, Simon!

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

That’s a Good Plan, Maybe

Oct 21st, 2009 by

Simon has said some hilarious things the past few months. Too bad my memory is shot and I can barely remember any of them!

One utterance popped up yesterday. He wanted to go into the bathroom and brush his teeth in the morning. I was to go with him. He was to use “The Thomas tooth brush” and I was to use “the grumpy toothbrush.”

Huh? Turns out he was trying to say “grown-up”, but I swear it came out as “grumpy” and seemed a funny but apt way to phrase it. Grownups must seem pretty grumpy to your average preschooler.

Aside from one-offs I can’t remember, we are getting several new funny constructions that characterize Simon’s speech at three.

One is the not-so-artful excuse. Whenever Simon doesn’t want to do something, he has a set list of reasons why he can’t from which to draw:

  • I’m too tired to do X.
  • I’m too sad to do X.
  • X is too noisy for me.
  • X is too scary for me.

Now let the record show that I can tell this is baloney 99% of the time for two simple reasons:

  1. The excuses mostly come when he is tired or cranky.
  2. The problem rarely matches the issue at hand.

For example, it is not compelling to be told that “I’m too tired to go to sleep”. Nor am I likely to be moved by hearing that Simon’s noise machine, which he has had since birth, “is too noisy for me.” Finally, while some food may be scary, I am pretty sure that grilled cheese is not. Unless maybe Matt makes it….

And speaking of “maybe”, Simon loves this word and liberally peppers his speech with it.

“Simon, what would you like to do?” I ask.

“Huuuuum, watch Curious George maybe” he answers.

or

“Simon, what would you like for dinner?”

“Huuuuum, maybe grilled cheese.”

When it’s not too scary for him that is.

The really funny part of this for me is that my Sudanese friends also use the word maybe in similarly un-idiomatic ways, placing it in the wrong place or using it to mean “I hope.” Thus, “Maybe I will graduate this year” and “I will maybe do my laundry today.”

And the final bit of the Simon patois that’s making me giggle these days is “That’s a good plan.” It would seem that no decision is too small to be elevated to “good plan” status.

“Simon? Do you want to play with the marble run before we go upstairs for bed?”

“Yes, I do want to. [His affirmations are getting long and formal.]  That’s a good plan, Mommy.”

Whatever you say, Simon. Whatever you say…

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

The Time of His Life

Oct 18th, 2009 by

When Matt and I collapsed in bed Friday night, we both had the feeling that Simon was dreaming happy dreams, reliving what had almost certainly been the happiest day of his life.

Simon was too young to understand his first birthday and got scared when everyone sang to him. Last year, I planned way too much party for the boy and overwhelmed him. This year, however, the combination of better planning on my part and an extra year on Simon’s resulted in his having a fantastic birthday weeked.

Fired Up!

Fired Up!

Yes, I did say weekend. The festivities began Friday at school, when Simon wore a birthday crown, had ice cream and cookies in his class, and then had the whole school sing to him during the Shabbat program. When he came home, he was so fired up that he had a short, fitfull nap. I know he was fired up because when Matt went to get him he announced, “I’m fired up, Daddy!”

At 5:30, the family came over for dinner, cake and ice cream, and presents. Whereas last year I hosted well over 30 people, this year we pared the list down to immediate family and kept it at a manageable 17. Simon greeted everyone excitedly (“Hello! Hello!”) and greedily (“Oooh, a present for me!”), ate a decent dinner, recognized the dalmation on his cake as Pongo, sat and let everyone sing to him, successfully blew out his candles, and gobbled down cake and ice cream with abandon.

The Perfect Pumpkin

The Perfect Pumpkin

Then he tore into his presents. What a haul! Curious George balls and bats. A bridge and coal tumbler for his Thomas railway system. A remote control Silverado. Mac and Lightening McQueen. A marble run. An adorable stuffed farm set. And that was in addition to the play tent, backpack, and Cranky the Crane (also Thomas) he got the night before at Jim and Evie’s. The only dud in the bunch was the camera Matt and I got him, which turned to out to not work. But even that sorted itself out the next day after a quick run to Target for an exchange.

Saturday was all about a lazy morning playing with his new toys and catching up on his sleep. And Matt’s first ever migraine, but that’s a whole ‘nother story…  Then today we went with Leah and Sophie to Gallrein farms for pumpkin picking, a tractor ride, a petting zoo, hay stacks, and more presents.

It was a busy, happy weekend filled with family, friends, food, blue skies, crisp autumn weather, and a puppy cake. It was, in other words, perfect.

Posted in Family, Friends, Little Boy | 2 Comments »

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