Three Generations

Papa, aka M.’s pop, has been visiting us since before the holiday and it has been truly wonderful. The relationship he has was Baby A is truly magical. And honestly, he is just fun and my toddler picks up on that.

Tonight Papa cooked dinner for all of us. I’m so sick I’ve spent most of the day in bed so not only did I got kitchen duty off but I got taken off of baby duty. Of course, Baby A wanted to help and was insistent about it. To appease A., M. picked up the crying tot so that they could oversee Papa’s activity. It was at this moment that I looked into the kitchen to see three generations of men cooking, playing and laughing together. It was a purely wonderful moment that I will never forget.

It was a Memorable Christmas

The title of this post isn’t about the memories that were created today: the look on A’s face when he came out to the living room this morning or the day playing with all the toys relatives and friends sent him (Thank you to all). Today was memorable because Ya-Ya surprised us not only with her presence but with my toy box.

For decades, she has stored my dollhouse and my toy box until a few years ago when I had to decide which one to keep. Both were built-by my Nonno so the sentiment of these items runs deep. After some thought, I decided to part ways with my dollhouse. It stood about 4 feet tall and opened up. Each room was wallpapered and as a girl I loved it. The decision was difficult until my mom’s neighbor inquired about it. He was looking for a dollhouse for his granddaughter and was willing to fix it up for her. It was a sign (at least that’s how I saw it). The dollhouse would have a good home and be revived with love.

As for my toy box, it is a circus car that has a lion with a bee on his nose on the front. My Nonno isn’t the only person that had a hand in it; my mom painted the lion. One of the reason’s I wanted to keep it was that two generations had contributed to it. And since, A was born I was looking forward to him having it in his room, putting his toys in it and even, sitting in it (that’s what I did). So when my mom called this morning and told me to that she needed some help, I was surprised. Not only because she wasn’t planning on coming, but because she brought the toy box. A. went straight to it. Sit next to it, played with it, and within an hour he was sitting in it.

Tonight as we were winding down from the day, I sat in it with my childhood Pooh bear that was made by my aunt. (Baby A has also taken him as his own and sleeps with him each night.) And as I sat in my childhood toy box with my son giggling at his silly mommy, I felt strangely safe. Sure, I was at home with my family but there was something about the presence of my past that made me feel warm, comfortable and at peace. I hope that it gives Baby A those feelings one day too.

Fa La La La La

This weekend the east is being blanketed with snow and here in Los Angeles it’s close to 80 degrees. It doesn’t look anything like Christmas.

However, Beverly Hills’ Golden Triangle reminds M. and I of Michigan Avenue with the white lights and the festive store fronts so last night we packed up A.’s peeps (Ya-Ya, Papa, M. and I) and went there to walk around. We had a great time chasing A. through the streets of Beverly Hills dodging pedestrians and dogs. He climbed the stairs at Two Rodeo Drive and as he reached the top he was greeted by carolers. Unsure what to do, he ran past them clapping, then stopped, turned around and walked to a spot in front of them where he decided to stand for the next 20 minutes.

Now, I haven’t seen carolers in a while. But I knelt there with my son and listened to this quartet sing holiday music—about peace on earth, goodwill towards men and visiting relatives’ homes. I enjoyed watching his grandparents interact with him as he clapped and danced to the music. (Jingle Bells was his favorite, probably because it is the melody Elmo sings at the end of his segment.)

But most of all, as we watched the carolers sing underneath the towering Christmas tree, it felt like the holiday season to me. It’s a feeling I haven’t enjoyed for a long time, and I am so glad that I found it.

Today is Her Day

Ya-ya’s birthday is today and in grand Thank You Everything tradition, here is my ode to her.

While I was growing up, she was more like an older sister, who was more hip and more popular. To give you an idea, I was visiting a very old friend and when it came to describing my mom, he told his wife: “She’s the person that all the girls whated to go shopping with.” I’m not sure if this was true in high school, but it felt like it. And as older sisters do, she did embarrass me. The most memorable red-cheek moment was on my tenth birthday. She displayed a nude baby picture of me lying on a sheep skin rug as part of a photo montage of me. I was mortified. She tells this story to this day. Never once have I felt like an only child because of this.

I like to think that I got my work ethic from her. She has always worked hard and has made sure that I knew the importance of doing things for myself. I started working at ten and with her help started my own company. Early on she instilled a business sense in me that I use to this day.

She taught me to suck it up. Throughout life curve balls will come at you and sometimes you will get hit. But if you keep your head down and keep plowing away, eventually it will get better. Yes, there are times in my life when I needed her to commiserate with me and she didn’t and it irritated me. But now that I am a mom this lesson has been invaluable because there are days that I just need to deal.

I love the way that she thinks an article I write might have been influenced by her. I laugh each time she brings up the article I wrote about how mothers influence their child’s body image. It’s cute. And it is one of the few things I can tease her about.

She sends birthday cards to my friends. I didn’t get this gene. I don’t send cards unless Plaxo reminds me and links me to the e-card site. She is so thoughtful.

She is a talented artist who needs to make time to hone her skill. When I was a kid, I found her journal of a trip she took to New York City when she was 16. It was filled with beautiful sketches of the Empire State Building, Washington Square and other things. Now that I am older and realize what a person with her talent can do, I wonder what she would be doing if she decided to go to art school.

Finally, (because I don’t want to bore you and mother’s day is only five months away) the gusto in which she loves Baby A is amazing and beautiful. She is more patient and nurturing with both of us than I remember most of my adult life. Sometimes I think that when I gave birth to Baby A, my big sister figure became my mom. And I like it this way.

Happy Birthday, Ya-Ya. (There are way more things that I am grateful for but I have an audience.)

P.S. This is your e-card this year.

A Dedicated Dad

When you’re up all night with a toddler, there isn’t much to be thankful for. But last night when Baby A woke up at 12:30 AM and didn’t seem interested in going to bed until 4 AM, I was thankful for M.

As I mentioned yesterday, I have a good amount of work on my plate. And when this happens I tend to get caught up in my to-do lists. Last night as my son decided that he would rather play than sleep I seethed. Didn’t he know I wanted to be up at 5 to work? How dare he not sleep. It wasn’t my finest mommy moment.

But M., even in his dog-tired state, made sure A. was happy—even giggling at some points. We had a long night. This morning M. woke up, got dressed and went to work. He’s a trooper—a truly dedicated dad.

The Work-Baby Balancing Act

I’ve written about the ability to get things done during (or even taking) a nap. And since it has been a busy month work wise. (Yay!) I have had to take advantage of those two glorious hours each day when Baby A sleeps. Well, I needed to.

Toward the end of last week, A. decided that his nap wasn’t important and that he didn’t need to sleep when and for as long as he has been. I realize that each day with a toddler is a new adventure; however, I needed those naps. I scheduled interviews during nap time for Thursday and Friday.

On Thursday, Baby A went from sleeping in his stroller that normally lulls him to crying in his crib. It wasn’t steady but intermittent, kind of like when he sleeps. This went on for the 30 minutes leading up to my phone interview. So I took a deep breath, lowered the volume on the baby monitor (though I could still hear him) and made the call. As A. proceed to get louder, I interviewed a PhD about his latest study and tried to concentrate on the task at hand. I did, but decided I needed a full-proof plan for Friday’s interview.

Since Baby A had a peditarian appointment, an hour and a half after my scheduled interviewed I decide to use the car as my vessel. On Friday, it was his crib and my office. Fifteen minutes before he normally needs to nap, A. and I got in the car and drove to the only drive-thru Starbucks in the area to get coffee. By the time I got to the drive-thru ATM a few miles away he was asleep and my interview was in 15 minutes. So I parked and waited for the call.

Thanks to the earphone mic I have for my cell phone I was able to conduct my interview while Baby A slept behind me. He did wake up during my conversation, but was quiet. (Such a good boy.) So until this approach doesn’t work I’m thankful to have this system:

Step 1: Schedule interview during nap time.
Step 2: Put child in car seat and start driving about 30 minutes prior to interview. Child should fall asleep.
Step 3: Find a safe quiet place to park and conduct the interview in car. Note: If child wakes up AND begins to cry, step out of the car to continue. Do not step away from the car.  Wrap it up as soon as possible.

Dear Stroller: Thanks for the Memories

Baby A's Chariot

Right now, I’m waiting for Baby A to fall asleep. It’s nap time and normally we would be coming back from running errands and having breakfast. His little eyes would’ve gotten heavy as we rolled down the driveway and by the time we made it to the elevator he would be asleep. I would then transfer my 25-pound bundle of joy to his crib, where he would reach for puppy and sleep for two hours (three if I’m lucky). Not today.

Today there were no errands to run so we went to join the playground set. A lot of running around followed by a ride home in the stroller modeled above should send him off to dream land, right? Wrong. So as I sit here, listening to him try to settle down I look back on our 16-month relationship with our stroller.

1. It was in the stroller that we found out that Baby A was afraid of the dark. Walking home after having dinner, he’d cry when we were in the night but stop once we hit a street light. At first we thought it was a fluke until he cried during an entire after-dinner walk through the retire community where my mom lives.

2. The first time he drank from a sippy cup he was sitting in his stroller watching kids play in the fountain at Desert Ridge Shopping Center in Phoenix.

3. Baby A’s first real throw-up was while we were eating at Sauce in Scottsdale. Sweet potatoes everywhere. He, me and the stroller were orange.

4. Each Wednesday the stroller carries Baby A around the farmer’s market when he has experienced numerous tastes and smells for the first time. Where else can a kid learn to love asparagus, basil and cauliflower?

5. Finally, and this memory will continue for a long time, thanks to the stroller for allowing Baby A to see and experience the world and meet new friends. Whether it’s playing with our bankers and the students at Starbucks, or exploring San Francisco or Palm Springs, these four wheels help him get outside of the four walls that are home.

A Kitty’s Life

Wouldn't you love to spend the day doing this?

In the sitcom “Still Standing” (reruns can be seen on Lifetime), Jaime Gertz’s Mom character gets the flu. Grandmom is visiting. So she marches Jaime upstairs to get well. The episode goes on, Jaime gets well but pretends that she’s still illing so she can take a break. In her sick bed she doesn’t have to worry about cleaning the house, taking care of her children or working. She wants to milk it for all it’s worth. For a short period, she has the life of a kitty.

This morning, I also had a kitty’s life. I’m fighting off something (cold or flu, I’m not sure). I got to sleep in while M took care of Baby A. I even got to take a nap while they went for a walk to get me chicken soup. So I spent the morning in bed with Pumpkin pictured above. She spend each day sleeping on my bed with the only worry being whether Baby A will climb up and bother her. This was my only worry today, too.

 

The Number of the Day is 40

This week Sesame Street started it’s new season. Thank God. I’m not sure how many times I would be able to sit through reruns of the Help-O-Bots or How Many Hats Can You Wear on Your Head Day (even though Baby A and I play this game at least once a week).

The show is in its 40th year and as The Week pointed out it hasn’t gone without controversy. When it first aired it was banned in Mississippi because of its multi-racial cast that included Maria and Gordon (the man doesn’t looked like he has aged a bit.), both of whom are still teaching America’s youth. Including my 16-month son who’s internal clock knows when the show is on. He hands me the remote each morning and afternoon hoping that I will find Elmo and his friends.

I do, happily. In the short time that we have been watching, I’ve watched A. laugh at jokes that he didn’t yet understand just a week ago; mimick actions—whether dancing, singing or drumming—that the characters are doing; and find comfort in the characters that he probably sees are his friends. As for me, it gives me something to build our day around. For instance, when Elmo is thinking about frogs, A and I jump around the apartment like them. Or, if the letter of the day is “M” I point out all the words beginning with the letter. I don’t have a degree in childhood early education, but this seems to work for us. It also affords me the time to set dressed, cook, and possibly send an email or make a phone call.

Happy 40th anniversary, Sesame Street. Without you, most mothers would spend their days in pajamas.

My “Three Junes” Moment

Life has been off since G. was admitted to the hospital. Plans have been thrown up into the air and every action has been based on the next test, the next surgery, etc. But amidst all this strange uncertainty, I’ve caught glimpses of solitude.

Most parents of young children know the ever-presence of their son or daughter. Since Baby A was born I can count the amount of times that I have been separated from him. As I was making my dinner tonight at my mom and G.’s home (awaiting word from the hospital and caring for their dog), it hit me. I’m alone. It is one of those rare occassions where I am by myself.

In adverently, I’m almost living a scene out of the book “Three Junes” by Julia Glass. One of the characters gets a hotel room on a regular basis so that she can be alone and read a book. Basically, she steals away from her children, her responsibilities and her spouse. While I’m sitting at this computer in my mom’s den, I miss my child, my husband and my kitties. I still have my responsilibities. But for a fleeting moment tonight, I felt that G.’s illness had stolen me away to a place where I could do anything I wanted without interruption of responsibility or courtesy or attention.

Maybe I’ll go read.