Early December on Glenview Drive

Ryan and Sammie go to a non-denomination school that is associated with a temple. Driving home from school last year, Ryan asked me what the Hebrew word for tree was. I looked at her in the rear view mirror and just told her that 'arbol' was the Spanish word for it. She looked at me quizzically, not unlike the look I gave her when she sang "Drano, drano, drano, I made it out of clay." This week, they are learning about the menorah and dreidel which prompted Ryan to ask me about Hanukkah as I was putting her to bed last night.

I tried to explain to her that Hanukkah is a holiday like Christmas. I told her that in fact, our next door neighbors, the Kaplans, celebrate Hanukkah because they are Jewish. She asked if we were Jewish and what Jewish was. I told her that we weren't Jewish and that it's a religion.

"What's regilin?" she asked. "I can't say it."

"It's a hard word. Religion. It's a way that people believe in God. The Whitmires (the neighbors two doors down) are Catholic and go to church and Catholics celebrate Christmas. The Kaplans are Jewish and they celebrate Hanukkah, " I tried to explain.

"Are we Catholic then?"

"No, we don't really practice any religion." I told her. We both stopped and listened to the snow melting. It sounded like a light rain falling. I knew what her follow up question was going to be so I was trying to think of an answer before it came.

"Why do we celebrate Christmas then?"

Because everyone else does? I didn't say that but if I were being honest, I guess that's the answer. Like many, we embrace the spirit of the holiday if not the genesis of it. I explained to Ryan that we celebrate so that we can get our family to together and have a nice meal and enjoy the holiday spirit. She went on to ask me about Kwanzaa (I'm not making this up) and I was able to tell her next to nothing about it other than it's another holiday some people celebrate this time of year. She didn't press it so I'm guessing they give it a cursory mention at school and not much else.

To my girls, the holidays are a time of music, cookies, presents and wonder. For example, Sammie and Ryan have fully embraced the magic of Hector, our Elf on the shelf. Each morning they race to find him and giggle if he's in a place they deem strange (such as hanging from the cords that pull the curtains up and down). This morning he was sitting on the second story window ledge over the stairs. When the neighborhood kids came over, Ryan pointed him out.

"Look, it's Hector. Don't touch him or you'll take his magic away," she warned.

Lauren and Christopher Whitmire, ages 8 and 5, stared in awe at the 7 inch elf sitting there, looking over the house. Felyssa Kaplan, age 6 1/2, started to tell everyone that he's not real, he's just plastic. When I realized where she was going, I started talking loudly so the other kids wouldn't hear and I over-ruled her with the 'sure he's real, he's in a different place each morning' argument. She looked at me defiantly but something in my look must have said "I'll hang you upside down from that same window ledge if you say anything more" because she slowly backed away. About 10 minutes later I heard her announce that she hates Christmas (she was anxiously awaiting sundown to celebrate the first day of Hanukkah) and that was about the time I sent everyone home.

I won't take it well if the magic of Santa and/or Hector is spoiled for my girls before their time, like maybe when they get their driver's license. Sammie is so full of wonder and curiosity over how Santa flies, when he will fly, what he will bring etc. If she sees a picture of Santa on TV or on a magazine or on a balloon at the market, she yells "Santa! Ho Ho Ho" and she wraps her arm around her chin like it's a beard and says "Look, I Santa" and we all laugh. Ryan keeps telling us new things she wants Santa to bring, which might be problematic since I'm pretty sure Santa has already gotten her a scooter. Both girls ran around from window to window last night, sure they saw Santa's sleigh in the sky and maybe even Rudolph's nose (to their credit, there was a tiny red light shining through the trees but I'm pretty sure it was holiday light of some sort and not Rudolph). When I explained that Santa wouldn't be coming for 3 more nights, Ryan argued that maybe he is flying around now getting last minute things done. Sammie is going to be disappointed on Christmas morning because I'm pretty sure she thinks Santa comes to stay.

It makes me very happy to know that the girls are equally excited to have Grandear, Grandpa, Alex and Greg come visit as they are about the pending giftapolouza that is Christmas morning. They have been counting down the days until they arrive for the past week ("two more big sleeps, right mom?") which I hope justifies our pagan celebration.

Simple Question, Long Answer

Jim asked me the other day about the title of my blog, 'Unchangeable Choices'. It comes from the simultaneously breathtaking and suffocating realization that once you have kids, you can't un-have them. You spend your life making choices and you can undo almost every one you make - you can sell your house and move, you can get a divorce, have a tattoo removed, switch your hair color or brand of shampoo. You can, and often do, sell your car, change jobs, switch party affiliations, country clubs or tennis racquets. But you can't "unchange" the choice of having kids. Even if you send them to grandma for the weekend, they're waiting for you when you return. Even if you leave them at the Safe Baby Drop Off at the fire station (which I threatened both my kids with when they wouldn't sleep at night), they're still out there somewhere.

I came to this realization a few weeks after Ryan was born, when my life was turned upside down. I liken the first six weeks with a new born to boot camp with this 8lb creature playing the role of the boot camp drill master. She breaks you down by waking at odd hours all night. She strips you of your identity, not by shaving your head, but by requiring all of your energy goes towards taking care of her - no showers, no exercise, no phone calls (at least none that don't end up with you crying about sleep deprivation or wondering if it's okay to have two margaritas even though you're breast feeding). She molds you into a creature she will eventually call mom. You spend the next six weeks rebuilding yourself into something with which you both can live.

I remember around this time wanting to not have kids for just a weekend. I wanted more than a weekend alone though, I wanted a weekend of freedom where they didn't exist, even in my head. I just wanted to exhale and remember the feeling of only having myself to take care of. Where I could read the paper without wondering when someone would wake up, plan to go out for dinner about two minutes before I left the house, sleep without wondering when I would have to be up or how many times and take a shower when I felt like it rather than when my baby was otherwise occupied. Just a weekend. But you can't do it.

I'm glad it's an unchangeable choice, however, because if it weren't I may have missed out on my girls removing all the Christmas cards from the Christmas card holder and replacing them with their home made, construction paper ones. Or on Sammie asking me over and over how Hector, our Elf on the Shelf, flies to see Santa every night. "But how?" she asks. "With magic." I say. "Oh.........but how?". Or on Ryan singing Frosty the Snowman ("with his eyes made out of gold") at bedtime.

Both kids have been sick for the past two days and Jim's out of town. I was joking with some friends that I'm running out of wine and chicken soup except it's not a joke. I drugged the girls with Tylenol and took them to the mall to see Santa and do some shopping today. I needed out of the house and away from balls of used tissue. The whole drive there Ryan was practicing how to say "I love you" in sign language. You have to put your middle finger and fourth finger down while keeping the other three straight up. It's not easy when you have the dexterity of a 4 year old. When we got home and it was nap time, Sammie kept waving her fingers at me in a strange, almost pained sort of way. I didn't know what she was doing but finally she bent her fingers with her thumb sticking out, kind of like a arthritic hitchhiker would, and said "Mommy, I love you."

Why I'm Tired

It is before 6:00am and I am sitting in the dark outside my bedroom door. Ryan woke up at 5:20am and stumbled into our room. She saw Jim getting ready to go workout and in her half-awake, mostly asleep state, she got angry at him.

"What are you doing up? Why are you up?" she asked as she made her way into the bathroom.

"I"m getting ready to go exercise honey, come on, let's go back to bed," he comforted her. He tried to pick her up to take her back to her room but she shrugged him off, still confused.

"It's too late to exercise. You need to go to bed." she insisted. "Where is mommy?"

"I'm here honey, in bed."

She turned around and came over rubbing her eyes and crawled up into our bed. "Why is daddy up?" she asked, more calmly this time.

"He's going to workout. Here, lay down with me, sweetheart." I pulled back the blankets and made room for her next to me.

Mistake number one. I know she never goes to sleep when she's in bed with me. She lays on her side with her hands folded under her head and stares at me. She prefers I do the same. She smiles, I smile. She blows me a kiss, I blow her a kiss. I tell her no talking or she has to go to her room. She nods and says "I love you mommy." She closes her eyes. I do the same. After a few minutes, my hip is aching and I have an itch on my chin I desperately want to scratch but what if she is asleep or in that pre-sleep, post-awake state where you know you're about to fall asleep? I don't dare move. I lay there hoping that one or both of us can fall asleep. She's been quiet for a few minutes but I don't hear that rhythmic breathing that comes with sleep. Another minute passes, and another. I risk moving ever so slightly. Mistake number two.

"Mommy, do I have school today?" she asks.

"Yes," I sigh. "I'm going downstairs now. You need to sleep some more." Of course this doesn't work. She insists she come down with me and I insist not. We compromise (i.e., I fold) and I end up bringing my computer upstairs. I'm supposed to be in the room with her, working on the couch, but it is quiet in there and I'm hoping for an early Christmas miracle that maybe she has fallen asleep in the time it took me to make a pot of coffee. Hence, I'm sitting outside my bedroom door in the dark before 6:00am. At least I have a cup of coffee. And I'm under no illusions that this will be the last time I sit in the dark on a computer hoping my children are sleeping.

She Gets It, She Doesn't Get It

Ryan was eating breakfast a few days ago up at the counter in the kitchen. She was half watching some cartoon while shoveling a bagel in her mouth and talking incessantly as she's prone to doing. I was making lunches and drinking coffee and cleaning up in the kitchen. There was an audible pause in her chewing and mumbling which caught my attention. Looking up, I found her staring at her fish bowl inquisitively. I held my breath. She looked at me puzzled and then back at the fish bowl and said, "Wait, something is wrong."

"Huh?" I responded foolishly, knowing full well what was wrong.

"There are only two fish here. Where is Pancho number 2?" she asked as she continued staring intently at the 10 inch bowl, searching for the third fish, willing it to appear from the clear water.

Pancho II, named after her first fish, Pancho, when she couldn't come up with a new name, had been discovered floating belly up earlier that morning. Jim had removed it with a spoon and flushed it down the toilet. I have no idea if that is the proper handling for a dead goldfish but since that is how my mom handled the same situation 30 years earlier, I figured it could work for us. Death is not a concept I have discussed with my four year old. I don't know how to explain that to her without her worrying that anyone and everyone may suddenly be found floating belly up one morning. But now Pancho number 2 was missing.

"When I came downstairs this morning, Pancho II was sick," I told her. She understands sick but not dead.

"Where is he now?" she rightfully asked. I didn't want to tell her he was flushed down the toilet for fear that she'd never use the toilet again. I didn't want to tell her we threw him away either. I didn't know what to say.

"He went where sick fish go, honey." How pathetic does that sound? "Where?" she asked. "Away," I said and gave her a hug. "He's okay now and he lived a long life because you took such great care of him and loved him so much." Jim rolled his eyes. Actually, I fed him and our cleaning lady cleaned his bowl but Ryan and Sammie did look at him, talk to him and feed him broccoli occasionally so I felt justified in my praise of her.

Her eyes welled up with tears and her lip quivered and she asked me "did he know we loved him?" What a question from a 4 year old! I assured her that yes, Pancho number 2 knew she loved him.

"Couldn't he get better?" she asked. I told that her that no, he couldn't. He had to leave but that he was happier now.

She cried a little bit more and asked if her other fish, O'a and Pancho, were going to get sick too.

"Someday they will but we don't know when. We just enjoy them while they're here." I told her, shaking my head at my own inability to explain this concept to my daughter. She went back to her bagel and cartoon. She got dressed for school and seemed to have moved past the passing of Pancho number 2. When I dropped her off at school, however, I realized she knew more then she let on.

"Mrs. De los Santos? Guess what, Pancho number 2 died." she told her teacher. Apparently she gets it.

A few nights later as I put Ryan to bed she told me she was going to have triplets when she got married. Instead of exploring the highly questionable idea of having triplets with her, I decided to pursue the topic of her marriage.

"Who are you going to marry?" I asked.

"Roman," she said as she twisted her hair around a finger and then placed the end in her mouth to chew on.

"Oh, I like Roman, he's cute, huh?" What else can you say about a 4 year old.

"I wonder what he'll look like when he's grown up?" she said. Again, this from a 4 year old. I was impressed with her way of thinking and was going through the proverbial motion of patting myself on the back for having such a bright child when she answered her own question:

"I know, he'll be a woman when he grows up!" Maybe she doesn't get it just yet.

Tuesday Morning

Hi mommy, I got out of bed.
All by myself, did you hear what I said?
I see that love, you are up indeed
Some juice, a bagel, what do you need?
I'll watch a show, Pinky Dinky Do.
Someone was in my dream, do you know who?
That I don't know, butter or cream cheese?
Butter, cut into four pieces please.
Here you go, sit up here
I'll put on a show, there you go dear.
I hear Sammie, she is awake.
I hear her too, don't touch that cake.
Is it a school day for me today?
That it is, hurray, hurray.
I'll get Sam, sit on your knees.
You didn't give me any cream cheese.
You said butter, don't you remember?
Sammie's crying, don't forget her.
Up the stairs, over the toys,
What would it be like if I had boys?
Hi Sam, let's go downstairs
We'll get a brush and comb your hair.
No, no, no, where is Wyan?
Eating breakfast, stop your crying.
Bagel for you or maybe toast?
Oatmeal. I want the most.
I know that, you always do,
Mickey Mouse or something new?
Minnie Mouse and some juice.
Then we'll have to find your shoes.
Do you want a ponytail or a bow?
Yes please. Okay, we'll go with the flow.
A red clip, blue bow, butterfly clear.
Ryan, look at your hair in that mirror.
That's funny, I'll leave it like this!
I think not my little miss.
Two vitamins, here you go.
Sammie, are you sitting down low?
Here's a tray, don't spill please.
Mommy, today we're learning our D's.
Bring a dog, that starts with D.
Mommy, mommy I have to go pee.
Go quick and let's get dressed.
I'm tired, I'll take a rest.
No, put on this shirt, do it quick.
My tummy hurts, maybe I'm sick.
I'm sure you're fine, here are Sammie's pants.
Put them on when you're done with that dance.
Have another bite, put on your skirt.
I fell down, but I'm not hurt.
Here's your lunch, time to run.
I'm still eating, I'm not done.
Bring it in the car, eat it there.
Can I bring along my teddy bear?
In the car, but not to school.
I know that Sammie, that's a rule.
Wait for the gate, wait for the light.
Trees and kids and dogs in sight.
Turn the corner, break up a fight,
Smile knowing I do it again tonight.
Watch out for cars, kids move fast,
I'll sign us in mom, off to class.
Sammie to the right, Ryan to the left.
Lunchboxes, nap bags, lots to heft.
Hugs and kisses, one more hug.
Sammie grabs a book, sits on the rug.
Ryan on the slide, a wave goodbye
Two kids at school, a mother's high.

November 9, 2008

Tinkerbell is flying around my house. I know this because when I ask her who she is, she says "Teenkabwell" and when I ask her what she's doing, she says "I'm fwying, I'm fwying." The all knowing member of our family is quick to point out that this person flying around my house can't possibly be Tinkerbell since her wings are pink and not green and that she doesn't have a magic wand. She is probably just the Dew Drop Fairy I'm told. As a Princess/Fairy neophyte, I can't argue but I'm going to let the flying pink fairy be Teenkabwell as long as she flies carefully.

My four year old woke up this morning wanting her daddy even though she knew daddy had gone to the airport last night. When I pointed this out she said "but his car is here."

"True, it is. But a car picked him up to take him to the airport, remember?"

She nodded as her eyes welled up with tears, "but I didn't get to give him a hug and a kiss."

"Sure you did," I said. "Right before your nap yesterday, he put you to bed and you kissed him and hugged him."

"No. I didn't. I want daddy."

"Honey, he'll be home tonight. He had to go to Miami on the airplane." I consoled.

"But his car is here." she replied.

Is it too early to start drinking? One episode of Pinky Dinky Doo and promises of a Pop-Tart, and she was fine.

Later that night:

There was a faint knock on the door, heard only by kids under 5 who happened to be waiting for a friend to knock on the door. From the family room I heard a voice say "the show is starting" and then there was a mad rush for shoes, jackets and the appropriate stuffed animals to bring outside. Shouts for Sammie to hurry up were followed by stomping feet and "I coming, I coming." I calmly poured myself a glass of wine and joined my girls on their way outside for the big neighborhood kid show.

Seven chairs were lined up in the street where it meets the driveway. A long piece of masking tape divided our chairs and the stage (i.e., the driveway) with the words "Do Not Cross This Line!!! Performers only!!" Two large sheets hung from the top of the garage to the ground - behind those sheets, also known as backstage, is where my two little girls disappeared. The audience started to fill in and pretty soon it was standing room only. We bundled against the cold and begged for the outdoor lights to be turned on so we could see but we're met with a chorus of "when the show starts, the lights will go on."

Soon enough an eleven year old emerges from the sheets, takes the microphone and introduces the start of the Monthly Neighborhood Kids Show. The first act is five year old Christopher showing us his karate moves to the music of Kung Fu Panda. He starts slow and does a few "hi-yas" with his arms but as the music turns speeds up, Chris is dancing, flailing and kicking his legs all around the stage. The audience is breathless - if you blink, you'll miss a move. Chris' parents are rightfully proud as he takes his bow. Next up is the trio of Alexis, Lauren and Felyssa singing a song about sunshine in your pocket. There's a bit of a power struggle for the microphone but eventually everyone is heard and the audience rewards them with another round of applause. The third act of the night is 2 year old Sammie Freeman who will find the Mickey Mouse stuffed animal inside the suitcase. Sammie comes on stage slowly, a bit apprehensive of the 14 eyes staring at her, she catches my eye and smiles and approaches the suitcase. The audience is on the edge of their seats - will she find the doll? She lifts out a shirt, then an animal and then she finds it! Everyone claps, Sammie takes the microphone and after several prompts, says "Mickey Mouse" and smiles as she scampers behind the seat.

The next few acts include Jacob demonstrating his electric guitar prowess which he is quick to point out, he has taught himself, a fashion show including evening wear, beach wear and a pajama night pillow fight and a magical dance performance by Ryan and Sarah. They were joined on stage by all the performers at the start but it quickly transitioned into just the two of them doing a part break-dance, part ring around the rosie, part jumping from side to side dance while the audience clapped and cheered. The curtains hanging from the garage are starting to sag at this point of the show and between the gaps the audience can peek into the inner workings backstage. What we see is the younger performers (Chris and Sammie) dancing away to their own music and the older performers grabbing the programs trying to figure out what comes next. It looks a bit chaotic but the show runs smoothly. Alexis returns to the microphone to give all the performers their props including Parker Brown who was the co-director, script writer and duct tape remover. Everyone takes their bow, even Sammie who faces backwards as she does it, and the show comes to an end.

Can't wait until next month - I think it will be at our house.

Shockingly Easy

Welcome to blogging - my first step was to change the font. I'm an arial person, which should please my four year old since she's an Ariel person. I'm not sure how that happened - both of my daughters are all princess all the time. If I didn't have the stretch marks and inability to jump without peeing as proof, I would have thought they were adopted. Ryan sent Princess Ariel a picture and one of Disneyland's finest cast members sent her an autographed picture of Ariel in return. Ryan's response was to go door to door in our neighborhood and show her friends the picture. After that was done, she sat down and drew a picture for Princess Belle and insists Belle will send something "better" than a picture. One of life's little lessons is about to be learned.

I'm holding out hope that Sammie will drop the princesses in short order once she realizes she is not her sister's clone. Sammie, as diminutive as she is in size, has a big personality. She insists on doing everything herself - if you haven't seen a 2 year old try to put on her own diaper, come on over. It's worth it, unless of course you're in a hurry in which case it's really frustrating. Such Sammie behavior was the inspiration for Ryan, age 4, to say to me, "she's really exasperating, isn't she mom?" I swear I'm not making this up.

I think this afternoon the girls and I are going to make oatmeal cookies with chocolate chips. I had to use the promise of said cookie making in order to get Sammie to go to school this morning since Ryan was staying home sick. Nothing like a good sugar bribe to get your kids to acquiese. It works like a charm and it keeps the dentists employed. Luckily my kids enjoy the journey (making the cookies) more than the destination (eating the cookies) which leaves me enjoying the destination by myself. It's a win-win really.

Halloween this year was a treat. Both girls were finally old enough to understand the holiday, to the extent anyone understands dressing up as death, the devil or blood soaked monsters, knocking on doors and asking for candy that is. Ryan dressed up asSnow White (obviously) and Sammie was a cheerleader. After knocking on the door, Sammie would say "twick or tweat" and "gahnk you" and Ryan would say "I picked a good house, huh Sammie? Mom, this house had candy too." I don't understand the parents that dress up their infants and actually trick or treat for candy with them. If you want to dress up the babies and go out with friends or older siblings, I'm all for it. But why does a kid with no teeth and limited digestive ability need candy? I assume the parents eat it but then can't they just go buy the candy if they want it? This is one of life's little mysteries I guess.