Kids get away

If you have not been hiding under a rock, you have heard about the unfortunate incident at the Cincinnati zoo where a 4-year-old boy made his way into the gorilla enclosure, fell 15 feet and was tossed and displayed by a large silverback gorilla that had to be shot and killed. The story has layers: the child supposedly taunted his mom before making his break, other people were trying to stop him, the silverback seemed protective at first, the female gorillas left the exhibit but the male wouldn't, the crowd went frantic, the child was being flung around by the male.

And the chorus of haters immediately surfaced:

• mom must have been negligent
• she should have been watching the child/holding on to him the entire time
• she should have jumped in and saved him from the gorillas
• the gorilla should have been lured away with treats
• the gorilla should have been tranquilized
• ten minutes of response time is much too long
• parents should be sued by the zoo
• parents should sue the zoo
• gorillas don't belong in zoos
• the enclosure should have been higher

I am feeling sick to my stomach. Sometimes really horrible things happen, and there is nobody to blame. Sometimes it might be someone's fault, but what have been gained by pointing fingers? 

And my heart goes out to that mom in the spotlight.

I have written before about parents who claim that their children would never do that. I am impressed by the amount of parents who are confident that they are fully aware of all their children's whereabouts at all times. So in the spirit of honesty and vulnerability, I will share my stories of children getting away.

My second child, 10 yo, was always a runner. Since he learned how to walk, he didn't walk, he ran. Once I took him and his brother to the zoo. He was still 3, so I brought a stroller for him, where he sat most of the time. At that zoo, the primate area was a giant loop, with one entrance/exit and exhibits off to the sides. The boys kept asking me to pick them up so they could see the monkeys. I must have been lifting them up and down for a while, alternating. At some point, they went ahead and I was catching up, with a stroller. I didn't even have texting on the phone, so no, I was not doing anything else, just following after the boys. It was getting close to lunchtime and I had to teach right after, so I was anxious to leave the area, feed them, and head back. I turned the corner and my oldest, 5 at the time, was there, but no sight of 3-year-old. I assumed he walked ahead, after all, this is a loop, so he must be at the next exhibit. I am following them, I am hoisting them up, he must have gone ahead to the orangutans where he can see without being picked up. I drag my oldest along, but 3 year old is not to be found. I come to the exit and freak out: now he could have gone into the rest of the zoo, or back into the exhibit, or I somehow missed him. I knew he was a runner, so I was staying right there, close behind, with him in the stroller. Where is he? I drag 5 year old back with me, looking closely. He protests, he cannot see any animals like this. I circle back the entire exhibit and fully panic now. He must have exited and gone into the zoo. And he's three. And I have no idea where to look for him. And I have to teach soon. What am I going to tell the school, that I am late because I lost a child at the zoo?!

Waves of gut-wrenching panic sweep over me. I find a zookeeper and tell him that I am missing a child. I remember what he was wearing (back in the day I used to get my boys dressed in bright orange or red shirts, because I knew one is a runner). He pages the rest of the zookeepers and tells them to scan for a small boy. Meanwhile, he wants to head back to the primates where we started, to look again. 

I have no pride left, just a tense ball of nerves. I am dragging my other child who is complaining and complaining. As we enter the loop yet again. the keeper gets the page that my son was found. It was wintertime during school hours, the zoo was not busy. He was spotted sitting at the table not far from the cafe area. I ran, stroller and dragged 5 year old in my wake. The boy is sitting there, unperturbed. "I was waiting to have lunch, mommy".

At least we did not make the evening news. At least he was not curious to see what the orangutan was having for lunch.

I asked him about that incident now and he did not remember it. But it still quickens my pulse just to think of it.

And another time, when we were in Costco and he and his younger sisters got away and hid in the canoes. I also looked and looked, this time for two kids. Again, swallow your pride, ask for assistance. But Costco does not do loudspeaker announcements, so I get to die again, as each associate is paged separately. My son did remember that incident. He said that the canoes looked cool and he just wanted to see what the inside of one was like, and then they crawled inside and hid not to be kidnapped...

And multiple times, in stores, when I turned around and he was gone...

It is different with my other kids.  If they get lost, it is because they got separated. They will stand there, they will not escape. My current3-year-oldd does not wander off. But I am not bold enough to declare that it will never happen because I am so vigilant.

So let's drop finger-pointing and posturing, and share your stories of kids who got away. It does not make you a bad parent, it makes you an honest one.

One day out of many

7:15 am and I hear the baby cooing. Or is it older kids talking? Oh, it's both. The baby has been up again during the night, a bunch of times, too many to count.

Is it dark? No, it's getting light. Where is my husband? His bag is gone, he must have gotten called up and I slept through.

The younger kids are cuddling in 5 yo's bed. Time to get them dressed. It is menorah painting day, so they need ratty clothes. 5 yo starts arguing that what I picked out is too nice. I tell her that it will be OK to get paint on it.

The baby is cooing. Will I have to drive the younger ones to school? When will I nurse her? I set up her babysitter so I can go to taekwondo with the boys, but if I have to drive, I might not make it back on time. I will definitely not have enough time to nurse her before dropping her off.

Where are the boys? Are they playing the new Pokemon game downstairs? Is my husband possibly in shul, and coming back to drive the kids?

I text him, he's on his way back from an early delivery, but he won't be back till 8:30. OK, get his breakfast in order, get myself dressed, make oatmeal for 5 yo, pour cereal for 2 yo. The boys are just getting up, pulling the shtick of late rising.

Start making coffee; I'll try to stall on nursing till closer to 8. She nursed the whole night, she should be fine. Here, sit in the highchair, eat a piece of mushy banana and a muffin.

Where is the insulated coffee mug? It is in the dishwasher which is dirty. Wash the mug, so my husband can take his coffee to go.

The baby throws the leftovers of banana on the floor.

My husband texts me that there is a lot of traffic and he will be getting in at 8:50. The kids need to be at school by 9. It takes half an hour to get to school in the morning.

Say brachot, and think: he's sitting in traffic, just to get home, grab the kids and breakfast and turn around and go back. He will be late to the office. I should drive.

But if I drive, I don't have time to eat breakfast. I will have to nurse the baby now. I might not make it in time to drop her off and still get to taekwondo. We might be late.

I decide to take them. I call my husband and tell him that. Spread butter on his bagel (I wanted some protein, but there is no time to make eggs, or to figure out what else to have). Wash, eat the bagel while nursing the baby.

Shoot, I only made fish sticks for lunches, and I didn't pack anything else. mad rush to get the lunch boxes, and shove some snacks in. "Don't step on the banana on the floor!" Shoes for all, grab my uniform, tell boys to run the dishwasher while I'm gone, daven and get started on the schoolwork, Tell them to be all ready by 9:30, so I can just pick them up.

Buckle everyone up. It's a good thing that it is warm, so I do not need to preheat the car. No jackets to wrestle with, either.

We drive. In the morning, Waze takes me on a different route than in the afternoon. More traffic lights, more stop-and-go. We listen to the iPod. I get lost in my thoughts.

Chanukah is coming. I need to plan something fun. I need to plan a family dinner and invite my in-laws. We have not been invited out for a meal in months. We have five kids; it is too much for most people. I need to invite others for Shabbos meals. What about that new homeschooling family? I need to be social.

I get to school. The kids happily clamber out, 2 yo waving to his teacher. "He's always so happy!" They love the school. It is a constant, a happy place.

I drive back. I just get home by 9:30. The boys jump in and we drop the baby off. She wakes up as I pull up at the sitter's. I run and hope that she will last till I'm done with taekwondo.

Change quickly into the uniform. I have to review the forms with the boys, I haven't done them for the past two weeks and before that there wasn't enough practice for my muscles to remember what to do. The boys are gracious teachers, going over the steps with me, and practicing whatever I ask.

The workout feels brutal, especially after my break. My legs shake, but I do it. I feel strong and powerful. I forget about Chanukah planning, about schoolwork that still awaits. I focus on repetitions of the side kick.

When I change back at the end of class, I find a message from the babysitter, diplomatically wondering when the baby nursed last. The time stamp is from 20 minutes ago. A wave of guilt washes over me: here I am, self-improving, and she was probably yelling her head off. I text that I'm on my way.

When I pick her up, she's outside with the babysitter. She's not crying, so I finally exhale. She fusses the second I start placing her in the car seat and I briefly wonder about nursing her now. But I drive home, get the boys to open the house and bring in my bags while I sit down to nurse. She falls asleep while nursing and transfers to the crib.

I exhale again.

I get to eat lunch. The boys eat lunch of their own making. I rush them on, so we can get some schoolwork done before afternoon carpool, before the baby wakes up and I will need to finish nursing her.

We do chumash. They do everything else on their own. 11 yo really needs to add more to his day. His mishna teacher is no longer available to teach. For Judaics, I am only able to do chumash. 9 yo was upset about chumash yesterday, but today it goes smoothly. I do not prepare for him, I still remember VaYetze from last year. I remember the Rashis, too. I am getting to mastery. For 11 yo, I have to prepare. The language is different, and there is no narrative. Rashi cites gemarot and opinions which I have not heard before.

The baby wakes up. The boys trip over each other to take her out of the crib. 11 yo mentioned earlier how he misses her, For once, we finished Chumash without interruption. I nurse her. I make a chai latte for my afternoon drive. Now that the dishwasher has been run, I have a clean insulated mug. A piece of chocolate completes the afternoon pick-me-up.

I drive to get the kids from school. They are talking about Alfred Hitchcock's work on NPR. I have never seen Psycho, but when will I get the time? I get the kids and drive to pick up our betta fish from a friend. The kids are quiet in the back seat because the NPR is switched to iPod. The baby is asleep.

I get home and 2 yo does not want to get of his car seat unless I unbuckle him. His fussing wakes up baby. I need to nurse her, again. 9 yo is up to math, and he is having new issues. I still have not made dinner.

I text my husband and he's not coming home till later, much later. I nurse the baby and wonder whether I should be organizing something for Chanukah for the local homeschoolers. 9 yo moved to to have issues with his spelling words which need to be organized in an alphabetical order. I asked 11 yo to peel the potatoes, but he walked away.

I prepare dinner. First I decide that there will be no potatoes. Then I relent from punishing us all and decide not to give any to 11 yo. The baby is crawling into the kitchen, Is that chipped paint that she's licking off the floor? Why does she decide to start crawling when my housekeeping skills are at an all-time low?

I get her to sleep and hustle everyone to set up for dinner. 11 yo does want those potatoes, but I'm firm. And it's a shower night. And I'm still alone.

There was an ice-skating event for the women tonight, a chance to socialize and hang out. I forgot until the pictures started pouring in. I wanted to go. It is not happening. Is that why we have no Shabbos invites, since I don't see anyone?

9 yo washes 2 yo. "I even changed his dirty diaper and wiped him!" Thank you, child. I wash 5 yo. Then I beg the kids to watch the baby so I can take an early shower. I don't know how late my husband will come back. I don't know how long the baby will be up.

I read a story to 5 yo, tuck her in. I nurse the baby to sleep. I look up summer sleep away camp for boys. Darn, we already missed the deadline for one of the grants. I'm in a bit of sticker shock from the price. I share it with the boys and tell them that I will discuss the whole thing with daddy. 9 yo immediately decides that this means that he's not going and starts ruminating about it. I send them to sleep.

At 9 pm, my husband walks in. At 9:05, the baby gets up.

__________________

What am I doing wrong?
What am I supposed to be doing differently?
How did I trade the stress of five kids in the house for the stress of carpool?
When am I supposed to get any time to do something for my enjoyment?

2 year old goes to camp

2 yo is going to a backyard camp. This camp is run by a woman who has a playgroup in her house during the year for 2 year olds. I don't know how many years of experience she has, but she is a seasoned teacher, highly recommended in our neighborhood.

The first day of camp I did not do a good drop off. I scheduled to drop off 2 yo last, after his siblings, but, by that point, the baby was screaming hysterically, wanting to nurse, and I was running late. So I marched my little boy into a noisy room full of kids, dragging his bag of diapers and his backpack with lunch. The Morah (teacher) asked me the usual questions: what do you call him? And does he know any kids in the room? I quickly glanced around, did not see any familiar faces, told her that I have a crying baby waiting, and ran. Not a very good introduction to the new place, I am afraid, especially since we have not been to the house before.

When it was time to pick him up, I came on time, hoping to smooth out whatever did not go right in the morning. The Morah told me that he napped, and he did great. Then she asked me: does he go to school anywhere? I said: no. (She knows I homeschool). She expressed surprise and started telling me how he listened, was very comfortable, and played with the other kids. I said that he is with his older siblings all day long, playing and interacting, so he is used to it.

I did not make much of this, except for thanking G-d for an easy transition. I also chalked up some of this to flattery.

Yesterday, again, the Morah asked me whether I am sure he is not in any program. "He is such a sweet kid, so happy, so easy, just lies down for his nap without crying, talks, plays." I chuckled: does she think that I am hiding some great socialization program from her? Then I assured her that he is home with me, but we do get together with other homeschoolers and he does go to babysitting in shul on Shabbos.

I thought about it. This woman has seen many 2 year olds, and my child is not the easiest toddler on the block. I guess, when she gets 2 year olds who have not been to "school", they have hard time separating from their mothers or interacting with children who are not part of their family, so she expected a similar situation with my son. Also, there is this image of homeschool kids being isolated in their home, unhappy and unsocialized. I wonder whether we broke another stereotype here.

How did we get here? How is this child able to go into this intense situation, which could be anxiety-provoking, yet he is fine and happy?

Part of it is the personality. He is an outgoing boy, who is not shy or reserved, but he is not an exuberant extrovert. Part of it is the birth order: when you are the fourth, you are used to having many loud people around you. You have to speak up your mind to get things. You are used to running with the pack. Part of it is homeschooling, and hanging for many hours with kids of all different ages. We go to different places and I am not always on his tail, closely supervising every single step. Other mothers have watched my kid, brought him to me, gave him snacks, so he is used to having different people take care of his needs.

And part of it is parenting. Being the fourth child, 2 yo gets a good mix of parents who are too tired to micromanage, yet who know that an extra hug, or pick up, or snuggle will not spoil a child. He is secure asking for comfort, so he can go into the world and explore.

To be honest, I have a huge moral conflict with sending out a 2 year old to camp (or to school) for such a long day and for so many weeks. There is a part of me which strongly feels that the reason I have a happy, secure child is due to him being at home, close to his mommy, and that is where he belongs. Now I am upsetting this delicate balance. Now I will have to adjust to the reality that I cannot provide him with what he enjoys, like water play or messy projects, without turning into a disaster manager, losing my cool, and yelling. Yes, I have to accept the reality that I am THAT parent, that mom who is sending out her 2 year old because it is just too hard for me.

On the plus side, it is only for a year. I keep telling myself that we are taking life on year at a time, and we can always stop, assess, and change our circumstances as necessary.

closing time

On Friday I took both boys for their annual check-up. I had to beg the pediatrician to fit us in between their actual birthdays and before this baby, as they do not schedule three appointments at the same time. 11 yo needed shots, so the insurance would not cover a visit before his actual birthday. I ended up taking them on Friday afternoon.

Between my dear friend and my MIL, I did not have to bring all four kids with me, so I assumed the appointment will be a piece of cake. The pediatrician is located not far from the taekwondo studio, so maybe we would even make it to a Friday afternoon class, in the spirit of trying to get in as many classes before the baby as possible. I told boys to pack up their uniforms and gear and load up.

When we were being taken in by a nurse, 11 yo asked right off the bat whether there are any shots in store. He was told that there are going to be two, and he took that info in stride. Then 9 yo timidly inquired whether he is getting any shots. He was reassured that there will be none, and he visibly exhaled. Then, as the nurse was finishing inputting their measurements, she said how 9 yo will need a finger stick to measure his cholesterol, but it is not a big deal.

It turned out to be a big deal. For a child with anxiety, being told something new like this was a big deal. He immediately kicked into full panic mode: crying, screaming, begging not to be pricked, asking why he deserves this, etc. It took three nurses to hold him down to get that prick. By this point, 11 yo was starting to lose his cool, so be stepped out. I was trying to talk to 9 yo, and I even asked the nurses to back off, to give him on minute to decide which hand will get pricked, but he was too far gone. I remained calm for as long as I could, but when he started trying to kick the nurses, I firmly said that he cannot do that. Meanwhile, the nurses invoked: "Don't upset your pregnant momma" mantra which I really wished they didn't. At the end, he was left sniffling and screaming, huddling on a chair, waiting for a doctor.

11 yo hopped onto an exam table, and mumbled something about losing his resolve to stay calm for his shots. He tried lightening the mood in the room by clowning around a bit. The rest of the appointment was unremarkable, and 9 yo cooperated with the doctor just fine. Then those shots came. By the time the nurse told 11 yo to relax and stuck him, he went into hysterical giggling: "It didn't hurt! It didn't hurt!" He was laughing, but there were tears in his eyes. Clearly, he had had enough emotions and they were spilling out.

When we checked out, there were only ten minutes left till taekwondo, so I asked boys whether they wanted to rush it. Both of them shook their heads "no", so we hit the ice cream store instead. Ever since the kids were vey little, I promised ice cream for those doctor appointments which involved shots. It was a nice way to end a possible nerve-wrecking outing, and it left a taste of something sweet. I did not promise such a treat to boys apriori, but, after what we've all been through, it seemed fitting.

It was raining, and it has been raining for the whole week. The ice cream place is outdoors, but they have a small canopy. Everyone ordered a scoop, and we stood there, silently eating our cones and looking out into the rain.

It was the zen moment of the day. 9 yo finally relaxed. 11 yo was rendered speechless, just savoring his cone and standing there. I was thinking of what my life would be like if I only had to take care of a 9 yo and 11 yo, instead of catering to much smaller creatures. I was enjoying this moment of knowing that everyone near me is relaxed, content and thankful for the treat (both boys thanked me, easing into gratitude).

The speaker above us pumped in "Closing Time" by Semisonic. How fitting: I have heard this song numerous times, but never paid very close attention to the words, assuming it is all about being kicked out of a bar. Recently, I have seen a little tidbit floating around, saying that the song is really about impending parenthood, and the ambivalent feelings that come with it. Now I was really listening.

I am in my last weeks pregnancy, yet I feel strangely unsettled. I can't put a finger on it: what is that project, that nesting activity that I need to complete in order to feel ready and prepared for this baby? It is not a matter of finding a trusting practitioner, or getting labor support. It is not a matter of a doula. It is not a matter of getting baby things set up. I have all of that in place, or close enough. It is a hang-up in my brain, keeping me from being ready.

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."

As we were looking into the rain, my two older boys and I, I had this strong feeling how this might be the last Shabbos that I am having with just four kids. This baby is a new life, a new beginning, yet, it is also an end of an era. It is the end of "four kid" stage. It might sound funny to those who have one or two kids: does it really make any difference whether there are four kids or five? Isn't four already in the slightly crazy, big family category? Besides, the youngest is only two, so this "four kid" stage only lasted for a short while. Yet, in my head, four was within some grander logical scheme, and five is beyond that. Five is a whole next step. Five is where I cannot keep them all at home. Five is where we do not fit into any sedan, no matter how we contort ourselves. Five does not fit around a standard table. Five is this new area, which does not fold into itself neatly. It is a prime number, it is a star.

"Every new beginning come from some other beginning's end."

My last surviving grandmother is on her last breath. My mother is with her, and it is also an end of an era. It's the end of my grandparents, it is the end of my kids being blessed with having seen their great grandmother. We visited her in the summer, but she has long joined the dementia world of endless summer, or endless dark, so it was not a coherent visit.It was a long good-bye, drawn out over many moons, many years. Now, as a great grandchild is about to take a first breath, a generation is taking its last. The interplay of grief/relief/joy, the end juxtaposed with a beginning.

We finished our ice creams and came home to the usual hustle and bustle of a four kid household in preparation for Shabbos. "You don't have to go, but you can't stay here."

Dance ensemble

Today was the last Young People's Concert of the season in Spivey Hall. This year, considering how hectic everything was, and how overwhelmed I felt, I have not made use of this great resource as I have in the past years. Also, due to large range of my children's ages, it was hard choosing a performance which would engage everyone. We have gone to three concerts: one was cello quartet, one was a children's opera and this last one was the university's dance ensemble.

My daughter was in playgroup today, so I ended up taking only the boys. I had to get gas, so we ended up leaving so early that we got to the university's grounds with half an hour to spare. This worked to our advantage. The weather was nice, and there are beautiful ponds with waterfowl. My kids often watch them through the window while we wait to be seated, but it rarely worked out for us to spend any time walking around. Today, we got close and personal to a swan and quite a few geese. The older boys spotted a bunch of turtles, and even a water snake. They ran around one of the ponds while 2 yo diligently collected sticks and tossed them in. I often kick myself for not building in this type of free, unscheduled time, especially to enjoy and contemplate nature. We are always rushing to and fro, always working around nap time and taekwondo and playgroup pick-up.

When we went inside the Hall, 2 yo decided to try sliding down the staircase on his stomach, just as he does at home. There were not many people, and I was glad not to have to carry him down all those stairs. At the same time, I felt that it might not be exactly appropriate, considering the decorum of the place. As we were reaching the bottom, one of the ushers approached me. I tensed up, suspecting that it has to do with our entrance. Instead, she asked me how far along am I and where is my missing daughter. She spoke about looking forward to seeing our family next season, with a little one in arms. I exhaled in relief. Maybe we are not that socially inappropriate. Maybe we make a good impression. Maybe people have compassion for us.

Usually the concerts involve singing and/or musical instruments, so having a dance performance was not something that my boys have seen on stage before. Additionally, there was a program this time. 10 yo looked at a black-and-white cover featuring a ballerina, and grouched that it will be all about girls in frilly pink skirts. I kidded him back, that maybe the tutu will be white, or black, or pale blue. He browsed through the program and then tapped me excitedly: one of the dances was set to The Piano Guys' Code Name Vivaldi. My husband recently introduced boys to The Piano Guys, and they have been obsessing over it.

This is a college-level dance program, but, as the choreographer explained, it is a fairly new program on campus, less than three years old. Consequently, it was obvious that we did not have professional ballerinas and dancers performing; rather, students who chose to take a dance class. What struck me is how diverse were their body types. Often, when one watches ballet, or even back-up dancers in music videos, it is easy to assume that one has to be emaciated-looking in order to dance. Now these ladies were voluptuous. Some might have even qualified as obese. Some were petite, but there was no uniformity to them. Yet they all danced with passion and with grace. They all knew how to move to the music, and how to enjoy themselves. It did not look ridiculous, it looked like great fun. And there were no pink frilly tutus. There were body suits, and off-the shoulder leotards. There was jiggling of flesh; there was movement and confidence. I am glad that my boys got to see these real human bodies moving, instead of glossed and polished versions on TV, or in a professional program.

My daughter is finishing her year of ballet and tap. There is going to be a recital and all the hoopla that comes with it. One thing that bothered me from the first day about ballet was how much emphasis is placed on appearance, on wearing the matching outfits, on staying in line, etc. My reasoning for signing her up (she was asking for it) was to get this ballerina dream out of her system when she is young, and then move on to some activity which requires less emphasis on appearance. After watching the young ladies on stage today move their bodies with confidence despite lack of uniform appearance might make me reconsider. No, I am not plotting a dance career for my daughter, but I want her to be confident that her body can do wondrous things, despite the body type and appearance.

staying positive

8 yo is all excited about our trip. As I am tucking him in (all deep and meaningful conversations seem to happen at bedtime), he is telling me how he is planning on bringing one of his stuffed animals on the trip.

8 yo: " I will have to make a warm bed for animals left behind. This one really wants to come with us. It's so cuddly."
Me, distractedly : "If you lose it, it's your responsibility. I will not be looking for stuffed animals that leave home."
8 yo: "Mommy, can't you stay positive? Why do I have to lose it?"

Yes, my dear child, you are absolutely right, I will try to stay positive.

a really big heart

This morning, I ran out to get some scarves from a private showing. It is Sunday, and my husband was planing on taking the older kids to Gem and Mineral Show while I was planing to nap 1 yo and organize the sunroom.

When I came back, steam was coming out of my husband's ears, and 8 yo was crying. My husband asked him to do chumash. He did not expect to do chumash today, so he totally melted down. It took them an hour to torture their way through three pesukim. I was just shaking my head. At some point, I volunteered to take 10 yo and 4 yo to the show, while the learners would sit and finish up. However, they did complete it, had brunch, and left.

I got to the point in the sun room where I emptied out all the messy cubbies, and then 1 yo woke up. So now there is a pile of mess on the floor of the sun room, but the cubbies look nice and neat. The pile is bad enough for the kids to ask: what happened here?

But that is not what I want to focus on.

The car pulls up. The kids pile out. 8 yo comes in, beaming: "Mommy, I got you a gift!" I turn around and see that he is holding a tiny jewelry pouch. Inside are little earrings. "Mommy, these are mystic quartz. You irradiate quartz and you get mystic quartz. Mommy, do you like them? I got them for you for doing all those nice things that you do for us. It's nice to get you a present once in a while to say thank you. Mommy, we're having pizza for dinner? I love pizza, thank you for making it."

He leaves the room, and I am speechless and choked up. I am putting on these little studs. My husbands shakes his head: "Where did you get a kid like that?" Then he tells me how 8 yo got a grab bag of stones for 4 yo since she does not have her own money, and he was considering getting me another set of earrings, but that was outside of his price range. 10 yo was upset; he got nothing because he is saving his money. However, he used golden wire and wrapped it around a black polished stone (8 yo's gift to him as a consolation), and presented me with that pendant.

Before they left for the show, when the kids were outside and out of ear shot, I was complaining bitterly to my husband how I cannot take 8 yo's angry outbursts any more, how his hysterics and dramatics leave me drained; how I feel like a hostage to his emotions. Now I feel like the luckiest mom on the face of this earth: I have a sweet, caring kid. Maybe he will not master chumash, maybe he will not be quick with his numbers, but his heart is so firmly in the right place, that I have a thing or two to learn from him.

aftermath of the school meeting

How did it go?

I met with the school on Monday. The meeting was attended by the tester, the principal, and another lady (who did not introduce herself or stated why she is there, so I am still not sure of her role).

The bottom line is: in order for 8 yo to attend this school, he has to be on medication and/or have a shadow and receive therapy for his anxiety. The shadow would come from our pocket (in addition to tuition). The therapy would also obviously come from our pocket. The medication would need to start immediately, so it has a chance to kick in before the school year starts (in three weeks). I asked, which medication did they have in mind, for anxiety or for ADHD? They said, possibly both, but they understand that I might not be interested in medication, so a shadow would be a must. Also he might need to be in second grade Judaics, since they are not sure of his skills, although the tester admitted that she does not think he showed his full ability. And the acceptance would be for a trial period, till Succot (about six weeks). I was also asked by the principal why I chose to homeschool. I was quite passionate in my response. Then I was asked, why am I sending him to school now? I said that my circumstances have changed, and I would like 8 yo to compare himself to his peers, not to his older advanced brother. The principal then said, send us the older one and keep the younger one! I chuckled bitterly, we have explored all different options.

During the meeting, mostly I listened. After being told the conditions for admission, I asked, since I am coming from homeschooling, why can't I get him a shadow or a tutor and a therapist at home? What does he need to go to school for? The reply was: you cannot homeschool forever, eventually kids need to be with others, function as part of a school, not be isolated. I said, I am not keeping them locked up in the basement... 

I also told the committee that a psychologist and a psychiatrist independently told us that they do not think 8 yo needs to be medicated, his ADHD is mild and he will grow out of it. The response: well, it probably works at home, but in a busy classroom with a lot of activity going on, he might need to be medicated, so "he could really take off in his learning". All the meanwhile I was feeling like I am shoving a round peg into a square hole. Maybe if I cut off a nose, and a right arm, and squeeze it a bit, it will fit.

I felt devastated after the meeting. Very appropriately, it happened on erev Tisha B'Av, the saddest day on the calendar. What am I supposed to do with my atypical kid? I called a good homeschooling friend to vent and to get some advice. One of the things she told me: now you are vindicated, now it's officially confirmed that 8 yo does need more than just be put into average classroom. She brainstormed some options, and she calmed me by telling me that whatever I choose to do with him would be fine. If he ends up in Chabad school for a year, he'll be fine. If he ends up in a very modern Orthodox school, or public school, it will be fine. And then she also mentioned how if she would consider putting her son into school, she cannot imagine what kind of school would take him.

What about all these kids who do not fit in? They are mostly boys, and they are within a fairly narrow range (5-10). And their parents are going nuts: something is off with my child. No, it is not autism spectrum. But these kids march to their own drum, and the world is hell-bent on making them stop and face the music of everyone else. I got a recommendation from the school to talk to another parent whose son is receiving therapy. I smiled when I saw the name: same parent was asking me about homeschooling previously. If the school just realized how many people out there are searching for options, maybe they would not be so quick with their declaration of conditions for acceptance.

Then I got another comment how maybe if I would discipline my son more, he would be more compliant. By discipline, I mean spanking and other general meanness. I feel that this child already gets punished and pushed around enough. I do not see a reason to rock his emotional boat any further with dubious methods and get dubious results.

I went into Tisha B'Av not knowing what to do. During the day, I attended Chofetz Chaiim lecture. Many people have seen these. As I was listening to story after story, what jumped out at me were the examples by R. Paysach Kronn of teachers and principals who were kind and soft in the situations where, it seemed, a heavy hand was required. One story stood out in particular: a principal of a large elementary school in Lakewood often had boys sent up to him for mussar (rebuke talks). After he spoke with the boy, he always sent them out with: "Don't forget that I love you". One boy was in the office more than usual. After yet another incident, he had the usual speech and the principal sent him out to join his class. The kid just stood there. Then he said: "You forgot to tell me that you love me!" R. Kronn's point was that the kid would not remember ANYTHING that he learned in class that year, but he would remember for the rest of his life that even when he was rebuked, the rebuke ended with a declaration of love.

I thought about the cold encounter in the office, and I could not see this principal telling my son that he loved him. I knew that my son a priori will be flagged as a "problem to be watched", and any outburst, any misbehavior will be "we told you that your kid does not belong here as he is". Change him, numb him, steer him like a dumb horse with blinders: oh, now we have a nice obedient student. Now there is somebody to love!

I do not think that the principal was telling lashon hara, but his words were not words of kindness and care. Thinking of all this, discussing the situation further with my husband, I found myself in the same place where I started homeschooling this child: the world is not kind enough and open-minded enough to throw him out there.

I was planning on taking this year as a break from this difficult situation by finding some kind of acceptable program for 8 yo. What we decided by the end of the fast was that we will keep him home. We will get him a therapist to work on his anxiety. I will get a shadow or a teacher to help me. My husband will take on Judaics (primarily Chumash). I will continue secular studies. And we will get someone to help with driving places.

It's funny to say, but after this decision, I actually felt invigorated. I might be kidding myself, it will still be hard, and burnout did not perfectly lift with the summertime. But I felt that reestablishing my commitment to my child, and realizing that he is MY responsibility, not school's, made me calmer.

So I said "no thanks" to the school, and submitted paperwork for my daughter's playgroup. I am yet to file "Intent to Homeschool" for the second one, but, in an unschooly manner, we got some schoolwork done today. While 8 yo was finishing his breakfast, I was post-dating checks for the playgroup. He wanted to know how much a whole year would cost (he saw the sum on each check). I told him there are 10 checks, and he can figure it out. I gave him a piece of paper (we have not done multiplication yet) and wrote: XXX a month, for 10 months. He sat down and added two, then he added those two, then he added four months to four months, and finally he added two months to a total. He lined up his numbers, and got the correct answer. I wrote down the sum next to XXX and asked what he noticed. He said, a zero at the end. I told him the trick about multiplying by ten, and showed a few examples. Then I gave him one to try. He giggled, this was easy! He even drew a little arrow to show a zero jumping behind the number. Math lesson for the day.

Then we went to Walmart to buy school supplies. I showed him a spelling board, with words, meant for grades K-2. He said that he was interested. When we got home, he opened it up right away. There were three pictures on one side, and a long list of words on the other. He asked me to tell him the words to spell. I told him the first one, but that one did not match any of the three pictures. He said tearfully that he expected to just spell the names of objects in front of him. Meanwhile, 10 yo haughtily started up that of course he knows how to spell them all. I quickly told him to grab a paper and pencil and better get them all right  he is quite a few grades ahead, after all). 8 yo spelled three sets of pictures, got stuck on "coat". He knew that what he was writing was not right, but he had hard time envisioning what else might be in the word. I told him how to spell "coat" correctly, then asked him to write it one more time, and he complied without more tears.

Not impressive as a school day, but encouraging in a way that he is interested in trying. My husband thinks that his writing and spelling will come with time, seemingly all of a sudden, and I should not drive myself crazy about it.

In a way, I am thankful to the school for opening my eyes. I forgot how much satisfaction I get from watching my child soar. And, please G-d, he will soar, without being numbed down, and without being squeezed into an environment where he does not fit.

comic relief

My oldest, upon hearing me debate which browser to install instead of Chrome: "Maybe you should be like Shimshon and get Firefox?"

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My daughter lost her sandal. I picked her up from camp with both sandals on. Sometime between her pick-up, boys' pick-up from camp, pit stop at home for a library card and the library's parking lot, her sandal went missing. She did not leave the car the whole time. I checked in every bag and dug under all the seats: no sandal. That's how she hopped to the library, on one foot. I hope one shoe satisfies "shirt and shoes required".

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My husband overheard 8 yo tell that 4 yo promised never to tell on her brothers.
My husband: "That will not work, she is not required to do that."
8 yo: "She promised."
"I cancel her promise. It was in this week's parsha."
"She promised yesterday. You can't cancel it today, too late!"
"I just heard about it today, so I am cancelling it today."

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The other day I woke up to a detailed budget of what it would cost to keep a dragon:










I am not sure that I am a dragon person.

on going to school

I am sending 8 yo to school next year.

By "next year" I mean next month. I have completed online application, submitted the paperwork, and I am now waiting for the "screening" before the acceptance.

It has not been easy. It has been hard. Those who spoke to me in the past two months know that I considered all different options. I tried many different things with this child. I thought about what I can do and what I want to do.

There wasn't one moment of clarity when it was obvious that he should be going to school. There wasn't a moment that cinched it. Instead, there was this slow realization that I am unable to teach him in whichever way I try. By now, I got to the point that I did not feel like trying any more.

I look at my daughter. She scribbles lists in her notepad. She tells me which letters the words start with. She wants to be shown how to write. She stops me to ask where is any particular word that I read. She is even-tempered and pleasant. She copes with her mistakes and corrects herself. She is eager to learn. I look at her and see that she is a product of my efforts to provide a stimulating and encouraging learning environment.

I look at 8 yo. How can this child be so different? How can he be so helpful, so pleasant, so caring, and then switch to being so impossibly hard? He does not want to learn, not from me, not anything that I deem important. He will not even try. Moreover, I end up engaged in an emotional confrontation, sapping all my energy. He does not gain, and I lose.

At some point, when I was considering sending both boys to school ( 10 yo is no angel either), somebody asked me: if you believe in the principles of homeschooling as ideal education, aren't you selling out? Well, I am still committed to the idea of homeschooling, but I am running out of stamina. And I have looked at how much of my energy is devoted solely to 8 yo, and how that adversely affects the rest of the family, and I realized that I do not have any more energy to give. It is not fair to the rest of us.

So 8 yo is going to school. I have used this threat as a possibility before, so at first he thought I was bluffing. When he realized that this time it's for real, he got upset. He does not want to go. He thinks he will not like it. He will miss out on all the fun things we are doing. He is worried about being held behind and about being stared at. I do listen to him, and I do commiserate, but I am firm at this point. As much as it feels that I am giving up on him, I feel like I am opening up a new vista here, both for him and for me. He can lead a life totally separate from his idolized brother. I can plan activities to do with 10 yo without worrying whether the younger one will participate, or take the whole time throwing a tantrum so that I will not have time and energy to work with the other kids. It is a new perspective, being able to plan and stick to it rather than wait for the next explosion.

While we are on the subject of school, I am thinking of sending my daughter to playgroup a few times per week. She is the one who really wants to go to school, and she loves the company of other kids. She is having a grand time in camp, and when she comes home, she sings songs, talks about what she did and name-drops her friends. I hope that being in a playgroup two days a week would satisfy her need for sociability and for the environment geared to her age. Now, don't get me wrong, on the first day of camp she was mistaken for a 1st grader, so assuredly and maturely she carried herself (she is 4). I know that all comes from being around older kids, but her older kids happen to be brothers, who do not want to make little projects and who are not excited about glitter and tracing letters.

I am also looking into some sort of assistance with 1 yo. Maybe a part-time babysitter, maybe his own playgroup. He is still so little, and he still nurses, so I am not even sure how this would all work. However, I am pleased to see that slowly different pieces are falling into place.

Now we only need to make sure that 8 yo is accepted, and that the cure is not worse than the disease.

P.S. I am saving the financial burden that is slowly dawning on us for another post.

shabbos pearls

We are talking about political campaigning.

8 yo: "My party emblem would be Big Foot. I would call it Honest Ape."

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My husband is explaining to 10 yo how he is not sure whether he would vote for a lesser-known Republican candidate, since the chances of beating a better-known Democrat go down. 10 yo launches into a Pokemon analogy where two weaker Pokemon cannot win a battle against a stronger one.

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10 yo has been obsessing over Star Wars (they had seen Clone Wars, since Star Wars are not on Netflix). "Yoda talks the same way as Chumash is written: Wise you are."

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Despite my reservations about pop culture and waste of time associated with it, I am starting to see wisdom in allowing kids to follow their passions and letting them crop up in unexpected places.

Day 4: bullying

We were spending Shabbos in Chicago, staying with a large family. It was so nice to stay in a house full of kids and toys. I watched how 4 yo made friends with 8 yo daughter of our hosts, and how the boys seemed to get along with the boys. They played a round of Chicago-opoly, talked about Willis tower and which other Chicago landmarks they would like to visit. I was told how the whole block is frum, and watched kids go from house to house, playing with friends. I became wistful of living in a large enough community, with enough people to have a whole block of frum kids.

In the afternoon, 10 yo and 8 yo went into the backyard to play basketball. A whole bunch of neighboring kids showed up for the son of the host. Next thing I saw was 10 yo leaving with them, going across the street. I was not pleased that he did not ask permission, or told me where he was going.

Next thing I see, he is coming back, fighting back tears. First thing I told him, I did not know where he went, so that is a problem. Then he told me how he went with those boys to play some sort of a game. They made him "it". Then they got into a little altercation. From what I gathered, he showed off a bit, and the other kids made fun of him: of his bukharian kippa, of his homeschooling ("what's 2 plus 2?"), of taekwondo. He finished with getting into a scuffle and using his taekwondo on a kid who claimed to be a black belt in karate. He was mostly upset that they said that he was weird, and all kids from our current city are weird.

So there we have it: such wonderful-looking yeshiva boys, with such great middos, making fun of a stranger because they knew they could. Never mind that we were asked whether our current city is in the US and whether we speak English there (I can assure you that we do). Never mind that these kids do not know whether Wisconsin and Michigan are states or cities. Never mind that in all the time we have been part of our secular homeschooling coop, my boys were never teased for the way they look, talk, dress or behave. These Chicago boys look frum, but they do not seem to understand that they did not behave in a manner befitting a religious Jew.

I talked to 10 yo. I said that there is nothing wrong with being weird or different. I said that the reason other boys made fun of him was to make themselves feel better. I said that they probably did not meet many kids who were homeschooled, or who wore different kippas. But the anguish that 10 yo was feeling was so mature, that it was making me sad. I said that he is better off being himself rather than showing off, and he is more likable as his true self. However, if people cannot accept him for who he truly is, that is their problem.

Once I was talking to this woman about homeschooling and she said the beef she had with it was that kids need to go to school to learn how to deal with teasing. At the time I do not remember what I answered, but it stuck with me. Now I have an answer: kids will have to deal with teasing whether they are homeschooled or not.

I was also saddened that nobody took the side of my son, although that's understandable: risk social consequences by siding with an outsider, or stay safely within the pack. Where is all that great Torah, where is the lesson of not oppressing the stranger because we were slaves in Egypt? I guess I am upset that these kids look all right, but they turned out to be somewhat rotten.

I still have school option on a back burner for my kids, especially during trying days. I fantasize how they could go and learn so much more than at home, and play with other kids, and be out of my hair. Then I have one of these brushes with reality of what school children are like, and I think how I would hate for my kids to be exposed to all this. I was talking to my husband how our kids are not having a standard childhood whichever way you slice it. I wonder whether I would want to give all of this up for conformity and close-mindedness.

Day 1 of our trip

taking a picture of a butterfly

It's one of those road trips which has the potential to be really good, or really bad, depending on the attitude. We are driving to Chicago for my husband's medical boards. Normal people fly in the day before the test, get a good night of sleep, take the test and fly back. Since the boards are on Friday morning, if my husband were to do this, he would not be able to get back home before Shabbos. He has done this in the past, but this time we are making a road trip from the whole experience, driving up and then back down.

the boys heaved the biggest stick they could find

Normal people spend the day before a major trip packing and then drive out the first thing in the morning. We both had something going on Wednesday morning: my husband had to work, and I had to teach my coop class on Battles and Weapons. Oh, and by that point we still did not have a place to stay for Shabbos. The few obvious suggestions fell through, my husband called the shuls, but nothing was coming through, and our preferred alternative (state park cabin) was not to be found within immediate Chicago vicinity. As I was teaching my class, another homeschooling friend was trying frantically to get in touch with me to let me know that she found us a place.  We were able to set out on this trip without worrying about what are we going to do for Shabbos.

You can teach your kids about Earth's rotation and time zones and the vastness of the US, or you can drive through the time zones. You can teach about terrain and weathering, or you can observe curvy highways cut through the mountains and waterfalls pouring off them, right beside interstates. We clearly saw when we drove into Appalachian mountains and then when we left for the foothills. We stopped at Tennessee welcome center on an island in the middle of the dammed Tennessee river. We swung into Nashville for some authentic Indian food. We used to get Indian food in Houston, and we have missed it. In Nashville, I found Woodlands, which is vegetarian and kosher. And authentic: all the spices are right and strong, all the dishes hot and steamy. My boys ordered dosas and chappati, and my husband and I got combo dinners, with mango lassi on the side. However, the baby has been up for a long time, and he was not interested in sitting in a high chair. He actually climbed out twice despite being strapped in, and kept trying to bang the spoon on the table. He would not be distracted with food. We took turns with him outside. Meanwhile, the temperature dropped, so I put on his fleecy snowsuit. My kids were wearing shorts and t-shirts, which was perfect wear for this morning. Now they were huddling in their winter jackets.

You can tell your kids all you want about proper table manners, or you can take them to a fairly casual restaurant and they can look around and decide for themselves that this is "fine cuisine" and requires better behavior. 10 yo straightened up, tucked in his napkin, kept his voice down. The younger two calmly walked around the table for the tastes of rice patties. If only those table manners would rub off on the baby...

The best piece of baby equipment that we ever got was pack-n-play. We got the most basic Graco one, and it served us well through four kids. That was where the baby slept last night. Between changing the time zones and not having his crib slats that he likes to grab, he was up at 5 am. Worse, he woke up his siblings, who tried their best to be quiet. He crawled and checked out every single drawer and crevice. The best source of entertainment was the roll of toilet paper. I usually do not let kids waste it, but this was getting a bit desperate. He ripped off a few sheets, wiped the floor with them, crumpled them, ripped them to shreds and then placed them into the garbage can. All this entertainment lasted for about half an hour.

The pool was opening up at 6 am, so I took the three older kids down there by 6, while the baby kept my husband company when he davened. Nobody was in the pool at that time, which was very nice for us. It was indoors and heated, one of the nicest hotel pools I have ever seen. The boys splashed and swam around and we did not have to worry about being quiet. 4 yo was a bit unsure about going into the big pool, but she warmed up towards the end. It was just so nice to watch and spend some time just with the older kids and not be catching anyone diving into the pool head first. 10 yo can really tread water, if not outright swim. 8 yo is cautious enough not to go deep enough. We just laughed and had fun. Then I switched with my husband, who had by now a pretty tired and hungry 1 yo.

The baby ended up falling asleep on me before we were ready to leave, so I sat holding him in the lobby while the kids had breakfast. I liked how I did not have to be anywhere else at that moment, and I was unavailable to pack or check my e-mail or hunt down elusive reception (the hotel was supposed to have wi-fi, but it was spotty). After the kids left to pack up, I had an elderly lady approach me and tell me how the kids are well-mannered. She said that she liked how they listened. I nodded politely, thinking how lucky I am that she did not witness them while they were squabbling or ignoring their parents. Then they rode into the lobby, my husband and 10 yo pushing the cart with all our luggage, 4 yo sitting on top of the suitcases, and 8 yo hanging on in the back, wheeling a duffel behind him, grinning. We do not roll quietly.

  

Bananagrams

We played a few rounds of Bananagrams with 10 yo. He always ends up being a rotten banana: parts of words hanging, made-up words, misspelled words. I noticed that 8 yo kept stopping him and correcting his words. 8 yo does not play; too much pressure. I kept talking up how he seems to be quite good at spelling now and he might want to give it a try. He reluctantly agreed with me. He made a bunch of three letter words, and it was hard adding other words to them. I stopped my game and helped him out. He breathed a sign of relief when we used up all the letters in his pile.

Today, I told the boys that we are going to restart doing Chumash ( I took a break during Pesach). 8 yo said that we have mainly not been doing anything, so it is time to start a lot of other things. I asked him, what else? He said: spelling.

I almost fell over.


Then there was an evening game of Bananagrams. I could not play with both boys at the same time, and 1 yo was very cranky and very ready to go to sleep. Bottom line, I messed it up badly, by totally creaming all involved parties ( including my husband). 10 yo was on 8 yo's team, and 8 yo was in tears. When I finished, he said that he's so bad at this, so bad.

And then he swiped across the table and scattered the tiles.

10 yo had no problem scrambling all his tiles mid-game and coming up with this monstrosity

I am not holding my breath for spelling for tomorrow. But now I have evidence that he at least knows when the word looks right and when it needs to be fixed.

hard baby

This last week, I finally said it out loud: my baby is a hard baby! I don't know why it took me so long, but there it is, for all to see. I am not a terrible mother, I just have a tough kid.

Actually, I know why it took me so long: after I had my second boy, after those first two years when he did not sleep through the night despite our best efforts, after running myself crazy, after waiting for him to talk in vain hope that once he can express himself it will get easier, and after telling my husband that I cannot have another kid like this, I might as well face it: 1 yo is most similar in personality to 8 yo.

I probably should be grateful that he does not walk yet, because he will not walk, he will be running. He is pulling off the tablecloth. He is unloading every single cabinet and drawer, for the sheer pleasure of dumping and making noise. He opens the drawers in my childproof kitchen that my daughter never did. (When 8 yo was a baby, we were in a different apartment and I have the whole kitchen gated). He makes a mad dash for the bathroom the second the door opens. He dives off objects, head-first. He takes off on the playground, across cement. He dumps whole buckets of toys. He even tantrums when he cannot get something.

He is 13 months old. He is not even a toddler yet. And he still does not fully sleep through the night. For a while I used to beat myself up about getting up to nurse him, but that beat him yelling and waking up his siblings. Besides, he does not have the same schedule every day, so he does not always get to take all his naps in his crib at the exactly same time. And I do drink coffee, to be functional in the morning. Then I often find myself crashing towards afternoon, so I have some more caffeine. Then the baby does not sleep, so I end up upping my caffeine, to cope. And so it goes.

Actually, I survived college and grad school without drinking any coffee. Having my second boy turned me into a caffeine addict that I am now.

Oh, and I drank all the caffeine I wanted while pregnant and nursing my daughter, but she was sleeping through the night.

I used to say that the baby is at "go with the flow" schedule, but we are hitting a point where he very clearly might not be thriving this way. He is having hard time with Pesach, his favorite foods being Ritz crackers and oatmeal. I have been mixing boiling water into shmura matzo meal, and then adding yogurt and smoothie to that. He has not been thrilled with the rest of the food, either. I sort of do not remember others having such issues. Then there is my 8 yo, rigidly telling me how much he is not enjoying Pesach, his lack of morning bagel, and all those additions to davening and benching.

Here I am, looking squarely at another potentially difficult child. I wish I could "nip it in the bud", apply some magical formula, consult with the experts, and not go down that rabbit hole. I wish this one was obedient, or a listener. Instead, I have a headstrong kid, who already wants to be like his older siblings, and who clearly knows what he wants and does not want and is not shy about it.

I can spend the time hiding under the blankets, closing my eyes, pretending that this is not happening. I can spend the time bemoaning and pitying myself for having all these difficult to control kids.What I can do is embrace my child's personality rather than spend time molding him into somebody else.

hamantash baking

Yesterday we got together with a few other families to bake hamantashen, make groggers and watch a Purim movie. That was the explicit purpose of the get-together. If I would be held accountable by how many of these goals were achieved by my kids, we would score quite poorly: 9 yo is the only one who successfully participated in all the activities and had something to show in the end (a grogger and hamantashen).

When we got there, there was a dog in the house. 4 yo is very afraid of dogs, so she would not go out back with the other kids as long as the dog was on the deck. I did not want 1 yo crawling on the deck with the dog either, so I did not really help out the boys. 9 yo started on grogger making with decorating his container. 7 yo had hard time squeezing glitter paint, then he saw a little clown that 9 yo made on the lid of his grogger, got frustrated that he can NEVER make a clown like that, and just stomped off into the backyard. He climbed on everything: the top of the sand box, the grill, the outer railing of the deck. Then he went inside, to play with Perplexus, read and make balloon animals.

Meanwhile the dog was brought into the house, 4 yo came outside, 9 yo followed the crowd to roll and fill hamantashen. I finally put the baby down, who made a beeline for the steps up the deck and the plastic slide. Oh, and the opening in the deck railing, second-floor height. I ended up watching and following him rather than helping 4 yo with her grogger. She made a half-hearted attempt to make one, but she was more interested in all the bikes and scooters on the deck. She tried out a scooter and a tricycle, but what really caught her eye was a bike with training wheels. She got onto the seat, and, with a little push, was able to pedal. There was not a whole lot of space, and the seat was a bit too high for her, but she spent a nice chunk of time practicing riding the bike.

I asked her whether she wanted to make hamantashen, but she was too engrossed in her new skill. I asked 7 yo if he wanted to make them, but he said no.

At the end, the kids did watch a Purim movie together (Megilat Lester and I heard good things about it).

When it was time to leave, 4 yo was ready to make hamantashen. Luckily there was one more piece of dough left, so she made two, and her friend shared one of hers to eat, so we did not have to wait for 4 yo's hamantash to be baked.

Was this a success? Was this a failure? Did we have good time? Did we learn anything?

Now I know that 4 yo is ready for a big bike. I know to bring some books for 7 yo to keep him busy, and that he is very much OK doing something different from the rest of the crowd. We also made some hamantashen on Friday at home, and he had hard time lining up the sides and pinching them, so we ended up with hamantash tacos and burritos. That might have been the extent of his desire to make hamantashen. We also had a really pleasant time walking to and from the house.

Maybe when the kids are not meeting educational objectives, the trouble is with the objectives, and not with the kids. I need to spend more time looking at the big overall picture rather than just a particular activity.

crying boys

I have been reading a few different things on anxiety. One thing that I saw repeated and that really spoke to me was the fact that tears of anxiety release stress hormone cortisol, as in, if you are anxious, your body is getting ready to "fight or flight", you are awash in cortisol and tears help you release it. (Don't ask me how getting teary-eyes and blurred vision help you deal with danger from an evolutionary perspective, but a good cry clearly can be therapeutic).

7 yo is very emotional and is easily moved to tears. In fact, just about on any given day, he finds something or other to cry about. Those tears just come, sometimes as a part of a fit, sometimes as a part of feeling helpless. One of the anxiety books recommended sitting down with an anxious child, especially a boy, and having a talk about the value of a good cry. It was encouraging parents to teach their child to release those tears. The premise is that it is not socially acceptable for boys to be anxious, and on top of that, it is not socially acceptable for boys to cry. So if you have an anxious boy, not only he is anxious about some original cause, but he is anxious in addition about those involuntary tears and how he will be perceived by others as being weak and emotional.

It seems to me that 7 yo is normalizing himself by openly displaying an abnormal behavior of expressing his feelings and crying easily... When he is calm, he can easily and spontaneously state how he feels and what bothers him. Maybe he is the normal one and we are all emotionally-repressed crazy people.

Purim costume theme

Purim is coming up. I know plenty of families do a costume theme each year: all members dress up to match; it makes great pictures, they all have fun and work together; Pinterest is full of them. I never seemed to get my act together for something like that, despite the fact that I have Purim costume gemach and access to all these costumes.

This year, sometime in the fall, we started discussing Mad Hatter's Tea party as a theme for Purim. Some roles were hashed out: my husband as Mad Hatter, my daughter as Alice, one of the boys as March Hare, another as Cheshire Cat and baby as Door Mouse. Since so much time has passed and this year gave us two Adars (a full month's worth of wake-up time), I decided to check in with everyone before proceeding to plan out and craft the costumes. My husband was OK with being a Mad Hatter and the baby did not really get a say. 9 yo wanted to be Griffin (if you do not recall a Griffin reread the book, especially the Lobster Quadrille part). 4 yo wanted to be a butterfly. I was telling her that there is a caterpillar, and she can be that, but she was not buying it, she wanted wings. Really, she wanted to be a fairy. I got her a matching tutu and wings. Since now we lost Alice, I had to sub as one. The baby got bumped up to March Hare. Luckily, I have a bunny costume in his size, I will add a vest and a toy pocket watch, and that should do. When we started looking into Griffin costumes, nothing was coming up, so I suggested ordering eagle wings and head, and then attaching them to a lion body costume. 9 yo said that he much rather be a chimera, with a goat's mask attached to his back and a spiky tail. Lewis Carrol would approve.

What about 7 yo? He wanted to be Optimus Prime from Transformers (he had never seen the movie, but we have the costume in the gemach).

My family is too individualistic (selfish?) to stick to a theme. Sorry, Pinterest, maybe another year?

another day

I've got an assistant.
I am still undertaking too much.
4 yo got her shots today and was very unhappy about it.
When I got home, I had three kids yelling at the same time, despite having another adult in the house.
7 yo managed to throw a fit even in my absence and refuse to do his work. And he locked himself in the laundry room.
It snowed a whole freaking inch and the traffic came to a standstill. My husband is stranded in the hospital. Of course, today he is not on call...
9 yo asked to have a crab stick with his sushi ( kosher fake DynaSea crab for those who are wondering). I found it later half-chewed on the windowsill.

I lost it.

4 yo refused to take a bath since she is worried about Band-Aids from her shots coming off.

The baby cut another tooth.

I hope my pipes will not freeze tonight, a pine tree will not fall on my house, and a workshop that we are supposed to attend tomorrow will get cancelled ( it is STILL on). I hope taekwondo will get cancelled too. I hope my husband makes it home safely.

And I hope that a Krispy Kreme donut goes well with mulled white wine, cause that's what I'm having!

a great day

Today was such a good day, that it would be a disservice not to share it. There were almost tantrums, and almost meltdowns, and, as I am typing this, my kitchen is a mess and I have not made anything for shabbos, and my husband is dealing with ectopic (translation: reinforcements not arriving any time soon), but the day was lovely.

We did schoolwork in the morning. 9 yo did division with remainders, a story from S'fateinu about Tu BShvat, mishna with his rebbi and chumash. We are reviewing Vayetze, and we are almost done. 7 yo did math (review of addition with regrouping), chumash (Bright Beginnings), spelling ( copy the names of seven types of fruit from Israel both in English and in Hebrew) and S'fateinu.

Then we had friends over for Tu B'Shvat party. The kids made pine cone bird feeders, planted parsley seeds for karpas to use on Pesach, made a few brachot and ate all different fruits. Mostly, they just played, hung out, and had a good time.


After the party was over, 4 yo got out the vacuum cleaner and started cleaning up. She was really trying, and even dragged it from room to room, looking for more things to vacuum. I praised her efforts, even though I knew that I will have to sweep up later. I learned that this sense of doing something useful is more important than critiquing a final result. She will have the rest of her life to learn how to vacuum properly. Now she is learning that vacuuming is fun.











Then the baby went for a nap and I made chocolate chip cookies with 7 yo. He has been asking me for a long time to cook something with him, but every time something came up. Yesterday, when he asked to make a dessert together, I decided to commit firmly. I did not allow other kids join him unless he was interested. Onto the shabbos menu went the cookies. So when it was finally quiet, it was cookie-making time.

This boy really did everything by himself. He read the recipe, collected the necessary ingredients, found measuring cups and spoons and followed the steps. I did not help unless I was asked, and that happened rarely. I helped with the flour, but mostly I kept my mouth shut and just watched. He cracked the eggs. I did not say anything when one of them missed the mixing bowl. He cheerfully cleaned it up and got another. He figured out that three teaspoons make a tablespoon. He molded the first batch, called the beater for licking, and I just marveled at how much he knows about cooking. My 9 yo is still not sure where I keep everything in the kitchen, but this kid knows his way around.

When I saw him reading later on, I gently reminded about Read to Succeed, and how he might want to keep track. He dissolved on the spot: I do not want to go to Six Flags, I cannot read for 6 hours, I cannot write this all down... I calmly suggested keeping track of how long he is reading now, and just write down this little bit. It turned out that he read for 40 minutes (I let him do the calculations), and he had no issues writing this down.

For dinner I had a crockpot stew with quinoa and kale chips. These tend to be touch-and-go, but everyone found some part of dinner that they liked.

After everyone got into pajamas, I sent 7 yo and 4 yo downstairs to clean up the basement. I heard the vacuum cleaner go on, and when they came up, they said it looked good. I reviewed mishna with 9 yo.  Then I put the baby down for the night.

They boys asked to sew. 9 yo saw a design for kimono in one of his history-comes-alive books, so he has been after me to make one. I suggested that he starts with making a doll-sized one, but he was not having it. This time I said that we will start with sewing on a button. It's a skill worth having even if he kimono ambitions do not actualize. I found old shirts of mine and I was planning to cut them into scraps for each kid, when they called the sleeves. I cut the sleeves off and then the boys said that they will sew on the buttons as eyes. Everyone was able to thread their needle. I had to make the knots for them. I showed each one how to sew on a button, and how to make a stem under it. They both sewed on two, and then sewed the ends of the sleeve shut. 7 yo, while sewing said that this is what he wants to learn how to do: to sew and to cook. I have a budding "husband of the year." But the real secret is that my husband sews and cooks, so my boys do not see it as woman's work. 4 yo picked out her buttons, and I sewed them onto her sleeve. It was idyllic, almost out of scene: kids sitting around the table, busily sewing...

When they finished, they showed off their sleeve puppets. All of a sudden they turned into sleeve eels.

Next thing I know, they are night caps.