Punitive · Sibling

Inside ours were a plastic cover from the case, 4 'C' batteries, a pen, and about $3 in coins. Also a baseball-sized hunk of lint.

On the front of our old CPU tower, we had a cover for something that wasn't installed. The cover had been pushed in, likely by M., and the resulting hole made a satisfying stash for anything that would fit...

Although the lint is our fault...

Part 1
So, B. just brought home her report card and it was clearly pressing that I open it IMMEDIATELY. She was clearly anxious that it not say anything bad. There was a lot of concern that it be "good" although what standard of good was, we weren't sure. She expressed the concern that her teacher might say she was spacey. And it's true, her papa and I do complain that she's in a fog and we will ease up a bit on her if she will also try to focus more. But she's a very very bright kid; I thought she knew it too, from the fact that the kids she looks up to in class all say she's the smartest, we say it, her teachers say it, she's in special "hard math" class (which she doesn't like only because it meets when the rest of her class is doing free reading time). She reads significantly above not only her own grade level, but the next grade level as well. What clearly comes out as I talk to her is that other kids have been talking about their report cards and fears of bad reports. We tried at the dinner table to talk about how everyone has things they need to work on and that report cards are a gauge for self-reflection and guidance, but I think her eyes glazed over as we went blah, blah, blah.

Part 2
This morning she asks me, "How much money do I have in my savings account?". I reply that I don't know but ask why she wants to know, assuming that she will tell me about something she wants to buy. What comes out is a complicated story (isn't it always with B.?) about how the kids in her class have been talking about how much they have in their accounts and she didn't know and was worried that she didn't have much. "R. has a $100 but I don't know that that's true"; "Well, if you saved every bit of your birthday money, you might have that much by now. But you use it to buy things you want, right?". She thinks for a moment and tells me "Well, maybe I could use this to help pay for college." Now I am over the moon beside myself with joy as for the last 2 years, B. has been saying she wants just to be a stay-at-home mom and not go to college; and without disrespecting the fine and admirable job that some moms do by staying home, we have tried to steer her towards the idea that it is not all reading, all day, that college is also about learning new things and being an interesting person. But I have carefully not denigrated sahm-ing to her and I have not pushed college. And even today, I was careful not to shout, "At last, my daughter has some ambition for her big beautiful brains!".

These two vignettes are just really about the affect that peers have in making and shaping our selves. B. has concerns that she didn't have only a short time ago because her friends have those concerns and she has internalized the idea that she SHOULD think these things as well.

And as a reminder to me that how your daughter is at 7 is not always a determiner of who she will be when she grows up.

So I know that Father's Day, like Mother's Day, is a made-up holiday, and I side with those who find it too commercial. I do not need to buy my husband a tie (or a grill or a lawn mower) from his kids so that he knows he is loved. (Although if I did, thank goodness I'd get 20% off! Please, people.)


That said, I was disappointed when we didn't get to spend the day together. We often like to do spend the parental day together things like go to the Carousel Museum or picnic (not this year in this weather). E. was with his father, I., who happened to be East (from Arizona) for a law school reunion and wanted to spend the day touring his old neighborhood in the Bronx. And it was apparently a very good visit--despite the rain, despite the agita of planning, despite the changes--as PS 6 was the same school building he used to throw balls at the side.


B. did make her father a samurai hat and we have a lovely early morning photo of him in it. M. managed to wish him a Happy Papa's Day, though he had no idea what was up.


So did you celebrate Father's Day as a kid? Do you celebrate it now as a papa/with your spouse?

Most of the time, I'm focused on how much more physical he is than his sister was at that age/is now. Most of the time, this is expressed as "Oh, look, he's jumping off the 2' high ottoman now; let's see 2' at 2 years means that by the time he's 10, he can start learning to sky dive..." or "M. stop running when you get to the end of the sidewalk" (which was this morning's terror).


Yesterday, I came home from work and M. arrived running with the Thomas the Tank Engine book that has become a hot favorite, Catch Me, Catch Me. And I sigh, feeling despair at having to read it yet again, and my mother says, "Let him read it to you." Ok?...So M. reads the book to me--now granted, it is specially designed to have only 50 words but he has memorized the pictures and page cues so that he has the book memorized. Fully. The book is just as comprehensible as it is when I read it, even with him missing some of the interminable reiterations of the phrases.

At his age, or slightly older, it was very obvious B. had a tremendous memory but she had more opportunities to show it off, since she was quiet and bookish. M's memory skills snuck up on me--I was not expecting him to be so fluent. If he retains these skills half as well as B. has--she remembers E.'s lines from shows he's rehearsed, where things appear on the page in a book, etc.--then I have two kids who have MUCH better memories than I do.

This is where my job as a parent is either to teach them to use it for good or to exploit them as sideshow geeks and finance my drinking habits...If only I could remember which it was...

I think having a garden with kids is a good experience for both of you. Even if your older child spends most of her time rocketing down the driveway on her scooter (wearing her helmet, thank god and our neighbor Dr. B. who insisted so that he wouldn't see her in the ER), she will have a better sense of where the food she eats comes from if she sees you put in the work of building boxes, filling them with dirt (and complains about the smell of the manure), planting seedlings, weeding, and EVENTUALLY picking and eating from it. Last night, we ate the first lettuce (looseleaf) from our garden, seriously augmented with romaine from the fridge but sweet young leaves straight from our boxes. She has become very interested in the progress of our tomatoes which are coming out now--green still but she can now check and count the new ones. Also in the state of our local rabbit population, especially as I threaten to trap and eat it if it continues to get into the garden. I'm looking forward to banding the cauliflower and broccoli leaves (to protect the heads), and to all our crops (squash, basil, cucumbers, lettuce, tomatoes of many kinds, beans, broccoli and cauliflower), whatever may come up.

Unfortunately, what M. has learned is the phrase "Maxi get out of my garden" which he parroted back at me today, while standing in the middle of the new bed...

You've probably been wondering. I wish I could tell you that I haven't been writing because my children were in a Amharic immersion program so that they could become goodwill ambassadors and secret agents or that they had dismantled and reassembled my computer by themselves with only a diagram from the Cheerios box to guide them or that I really did stuff them in the locked closet while I went out dancing and drinking in Vegas. But hey, blogs die all the time. I'm going to try reviving this one, because a friend said she missed it and reminded me that there are lots of reasons why I write it, not necessarily because anyone else cares.


This morning M. had a full-blown, extended duration tantrum. Screaming and crying, flinging himself to the floor, banging his head into the floor to elicit pain to keep the tantrum going. All because I said that while I would read to him, I would not read How Do You Get There (a quite nice hide-flap book by H.A. Rey of Curious George fame) again and would he please go and get a different book. And for some toddler-beknownst reason, he could walk towards the shelf but not close enough to reach a book from the shelf and therefore, he could not bring me a book. Now, call me...anything you want to...but I am not going to get up specially and get him a book so that I can do the favor of reading to him under the best of circumstances and I'm sure as hell not going to do it at 7 a.m., before toothbrushing, tea and breakfast, and maybe even dressing for the day. And I'm really not going to dignify the tantrum with a response if it's because you can't walk another 2 inches and reach out and take a book from the PILE that's sitting there. And I really do not get why toddlers think that if the tantrum strategy didn't work immediately, or in the first five minutes, that ten minutes more will really get you to change your mind.


It is hard not to give in but E. was there for mutual support on our parental front. I dressed and went downstairs where I sat in a comfy chair with my feet up and offered again to read now that he was also downstairs. We read the absolutely fatuous How Do You Get To Sesame Street, a low, even for the Elmo genre. We snuggled. He had his milk. And then he was able to go about his morning while I had my tea.


You mean he'll be 2 for another SEVEN months?

In two days, my boy turns 2. It has flown by. This past month we've done a lot of traveling and it has been a unique opportunity to see both how big and how little 2 can be. He falls asleep in your lap waiting for the plane and he's totally zonked with that limbless abandon of little babies. He goes for a walk around the block and wears you out with his stamina. He wants to be held more because the places and people are strange but he also wants to do it and see it and touch it and tell you about it. He wants your hand to hold but then he'll try to jump off the ottoman by himself. Because he's growing all the time, none of his clothes fit right--his belly shows but his sleeves are too long or his shoes are too big but his pants are high-waters--so he manages to look little and big at the same time.

M. is fully 2 in his behaviors. He wants things fiercely. He cries hard if he is thwarted. At the same time he won't give up his soothie (binky) or his stuffie, Ermy. He likes to have you sing but if you sing a song he doesn't like, he will tell you, "No song. Sing DIFF'RENT song." My new favorite is when I tell him to "Say please" or "Ask nice", half the time, he will actually add a please, a quarter of the time he will say "yes", and a quarter of the time, he will parrot back "Say please".

I continue to marvel at how blessed I am that he and his sister adore each other. They play together, they look for each other at the beginning and ends of their days. He will stand at her door and bellow "SISTAH, YA YOU?" (Sister, Where are you?). She will come running to hold his hand at the end of her school day. I don't expect it to last much longer as she will mature faster than he will in the next few years and I suspect we will have some years of quiet tolerance and general ignoring (when she's 10, he'll be 5 and a pest; when she's 15, he'll be 10 and still pre-pubescent; when she's 20, he'll be 15 and she'll be worldly wise and he'll be just a kid). But if we can avoid the real hostility my brother and I had for most of our childhood, that would be good. And if I'm wrong and we have a lifetime of happy children who love each other and like to be with each other, so much the better.

I'm off to buy a birthday present for him this afternoon--it should make noise and have buttons to push, ideally. No ideas in mind yet but we'll find something.

M. has had a language and cognitive explosion over the last few days. He's putting two or even three words together into primitive sentences. "Mama go work. Go office." "Milk cup please!" "Sing Eyes. Music please." and my favorite "I don't." Pronouns are starting to come in with some regularity and accuracy. And he's gotten much better at spatial issues--which cups fit inside which, which cups stack on each other, where the letters go in the alphabet puzzle. He recognizes a number of letters (loves the letter U for some reason) and has (inconsistently but more than once) managed to count correctly to 10. Since he mastered much of the 2 year old milestones for physical development about 3-6 months ago--jumping (both from the ground and off of things), running, walking backward, stronger finger control--and the developmental milestones of throwing a tantrum every time thwarted in the least way--damn, how the world revolves around the toddler!--we sometimes miss the speech/cognitive. But I also think that there was a big jump really recently.

We're also seeing a number of typical 2 year old behaviors--the fear of sudden changes (especially noises), a stranger anxiety that fluctuates considerably, some interest in toileting one day and then none, etc.

Two is right around the corner and he's ready.

So at today's show and tell of her weekend, B. told her friends NOT about visiting Nana and going out for Chinese food (her favorite), NOT about the visit by Auntie S. (even though L. and C. had to stay home), NOT about the premiere of the play her very own father wrote, but about the manual she found for a really old (Apple II version of a Commodore 64 version of a TRS-80 game) computer game, The Temple of Apshai.

What's more, that seemed to be really cool to the rest of her 7 year old class.

E's trying to decide if it's worth downloading the emulator if she's totally content with the archaic paper version...

So love her though we do, B. is not one of the most socially ept people. In this she takes after her parents in many ways. She is not good with crowds and will often wait to be asked to join a game rather than venturing first. She is better with one or two people. She is also much better with those much older (grown-ups) or those much younger (M. and his age). So we were delighted this year when she made friends with a girl in her class M-, who moved here from Nepal. (We have a surprisingly large community of Nepali here.)


There have been cultural/developmental issues. B. complained at first that M- was always hugging her, even in line; we talked about setting personal space. We invited M- over for a playdate and were put off; it came back through the girls' teacher that because M-'s family did not know us, she couldn't come. M- has asked B. to help her be more American.

Recently, M- has been telling B. elaborate stories. We are NOT worried about the content of the stories, in which M- says that she is a Nepali princess (heck, she might be, for all we know of Nepali royal lineage.) who will be fighting in the Nepali army (what general with an ounce of parental sense would draft 7 year old girls as their secret weapon?) against India (sadly, the only politically cogent thing here) and she would be doing her homework on the helicopter but she'd be back the next day (if only all wars were so short). We have been very careful NOT to scoff too much but to be very gentle BUT also revealingly critical: "Isn't M- a little young to be in the army? They don't generally take kids until they are in the 5th grade." and "Aren't you worried that she'll be hurt or killed? War is a very scary thing." and "Gee, M- must have very neat handwriting if she can write on a helicopter!" and "America to Nepal, fight a war, and back in one day! Wow, that's quick travel".

I find a number of things very interesting in this situation:

1. B. has told me stories from M- several times. She has told her Nana. She told Auntie S. She has NOT told her papa. Maybe it's a girl thing? Maybe she thinks Papa will be more critical/less gentle. If E. were to ask her, I'm sure she'd tell him all so it is perhaps an initial broach of the subject which is hard.

2. B. is clearly trying to work out what's true or not on an objective level. (Not really helped by a clear exoticism that M-'s life has that hers seems to lack. Clearly goes both ways.)

3. B. is clearly frustrated by getting different messages from Mama (source of all good things for so long) and M- (friend!).

4. B. is grappling with the idea that M- might be LYING (as opposed to fibbing or elaborating or even imagining) and the value that LYING is WRONG.

I've been trying to reconcile this issues by saying that M- may be embellishing or creating a good story for B. and that one thing she needs to work out as a friend is how much she wants to believe and how much she wants to put up with. I'm not sure this is the satisfying solution but I think it is the right answer.

Although we told him V. was coming, so as not to spring it on him, M. began his anxiety about our leaving for work today about 15 minutes before V. even arrived today, insisting on being held while we tidied up and whimpering if we didn't hold him. V. arrived and we were trying to minimize the goodbye process and make it light (as conventional wisdom holds) and he was howling. He chased me to the door of the mud room crying the whole way. I know that he will relax again once he adjusts to V. and B. playing with him and I know everything will be ok but man, was that awful!

So, I know it's about encouraging the child's interests, not thrusting interests upon them. But I do wonder if any of y'all have suggestions about how to make writing easier for B. She loves to read--the flip side of the equation is not a problem. But I am at my wits end on encouraging writing. Her own e-mail account is not compelling. We tried an e-mail to her favorite author. He wrote back! (How cool is that? The man is busy churning out installments in 2 different series and one offs and he still had time...or assistants with time but at least the thoughtfulness...to address a 7 year old's fan mail.) We bought her and her best friend L. hieroglyphic stamps in hopes of encouraging letters; B. has opened hers once and only because I brought it to her in a moment of whiny boredom. We have this fortune teller ( some of you probably called them cootie catchers but they are the folded finger paper that has numbers and colors written on them) that we use to give her activities when she announces that she is bored. One or two of the activities in there involve writing (write a "fortunately/unfortunately" story, of the sort she loves when told to her) and she will get them, announce "That wasn't what I wanted" and walk off.

Do I need to just relax and assume that the writing that she does in school will strengthen the muscles enough so that this is less of a chore? Do I just keep offering and hope something will stick? Do I need to force her to sit down and do some writing regularly? Do I just have a skewed vision of when writing should be something that folks just sit down to do?

Things are slowly returning to normal here. M. has not had any vomiting since mid-week though we still have serious diarrhea. He's normal in other ways--drinking lots, eyes bright, active--just so very...yucky. Warn the babysitter level of yucky.

So V. comes to babysit for us many Saturdays so I can get a morning's worth of work done. She is young but then I must have looked that young since I started babysitting when I was her age. And I did a lot of this "mother's helper" sort of babysitting when I started; not so many late nights. The kids seem to like her. She is the older sister of one of B's classmates so she has experience with B's age. M. talks about her and often will include V. in the list of people who know the Muffin Man. His big thing is the combo phrase "V. ding dong", not meant to imply that she is stupid but that she rings the doorbell when she comes.

Today, when V. arrived and I started to put on my coat, there was more than usual fussing; there was outright howling and tears. He did, as I knew he would, calm down soon after I actually left. V. held him and they played and he was fine.

Today, when I came back, M. would not sit in my lap. He only wanted to be held by V. despite my offers. He wasn't crying over it; he just was rejecting me. What a clever little stinker.

Ok, I know by now that you are sick of hearing how gross our illness is; believe me, I would like it to stop far more than you can imagine.

M. was sick again, twice, in the night. However, we now suspect that in addition to whatever stomach bug he may have had, he may be reacting to clementines. It seems to be the majority of what he throws up. Perhaps the acid is too much for him. Which is too bad because he loves them. It would help if he would chew them...

For now, no clementines.

For now, the BRATTY (Bread, rice, applesauce, tea, toast, and yogurt; though not so much tea) diet.

For now, large loads of really gross laundry.

Well, yesterday blossomed into plague at our house. By 8, B. was vomiting. By 10, I had developed diarrhea and by 1 I was vomiting. E. was about 2 hours behind me. M. was feeling chipper, though still not much interested in eating. Which was good because the only moving anyone did was to run for the bathroom or to lay back down; M. got leftovers and applesauce for dinner. I suspect that his disinterest in eating was that he still having diarrhea.

Having all collapsed into bed just after 8 pm, we woke this morning to wanting tea and toast. We tentatively tried breakfast but it's clear that the worst has passed and also that there is some lingering effect. We're wobbly and tummies are still grumbly. There's lots of laundry to be done now too. But we'll take that slow.

Hurrah for having survived. Cause it looked rather dicey yesterday afternoon. Stay well everybody.

Well, M. has something. I had thought that it was just that he spent the period after dinner racing from room to room screeching and giggling like a crazy man because I kept popping out at him and saying "boo!" I was so chagrined that I'd made him sick to his tummy with our game; I figured it was my duty, well and proper, to clean partly digested clementine and french toast from the rug and ottoman. But after cleaning him up and getting him settled for bed, we went downstairs and heard him blurp in the monitor and raced upstairs to tears and more spit-up. Cleaned him up and stripped the bed and remade it. Brought him downstairs to watch some Jeeves and Wooster with us and gave him some water. Which about 10 minutes later came up all over his jammies. Upstairs to change him again. Settled him in and closed down the house. Went up to bed to hear him blurp again so off we went to change the sheets again--fortunately, the first set had come from the laundry so we rotated, although this time he got Blue Bear and Barkley as well as jammies and sheets. Finally, well after midnight, he slept.

This morning, the virus is now in his bowels and we've been changing a series of watery nasty smelling diapers. He's pretty cheery though and has gone up for a morning nap which he really needs. Poor little gross one. This is really his first bout of serious virus and it's no fun at all.

Cross your fingers that no one else gets it.

M. loves music in general but he has some very specific tastes. Anything by Elmo, but mostly he likes "Elmo's Song" and will ask for it to be sung several times a day (to my disgust). And he will ask for "Eyes", meaning the song, "Triops has three eyes" by They Might Be Giants. His current favorite demand, though, is "Party Down", a bastardization of "Pay Me My Money Down", from the Bruce Springsteen Seeger Sessions. It's very cute as a misstatement and he likes to chirp "Gates?!" when it comes time for the verse about Bill Gates.

Through a confluence of events--snow canceling the first date for a required Hebrew School program, E's Saturday work schedule, having a babysitter--I went with B. to synagogue Beth Bolshoi (obviously not it's real name) for the required program. It was billed as a chance to see Peter Pitzele and Elizabeth Yaari who work on this idea of combining text story and dramatic interpretation as community spiritual exercises. However, that was only for the older children. The K-3 were in the "Family Service" which was with Rabbi P. (who I do like very much, but I see him frequently as he is our regular assistant rabbi). He'd drafted two teenagers with lovely voices to help him lead a singing intensive service, followed by the K-3 teachers doing crafts around Joseph and his coat of many colors. There were about 15 kids and parents there, and then the 6 or so teachers, and about 5 madrachim (the older kids in the bar/bat mitzvah age) who helped as well.

Let me start by saying that B. had a great time. She likes synagogue. I can tell--we arrived on time and she immediately started looking for what room we would be in. I sat down in the lobby and she scampered back and forth, rather than bury her nose in the book she brought. When we went in to our room, she insisted we sit up front. She went off and talked to N. who she knows only from Hebrew School (and is a bit of a wild boy...). C. came and sat near her (as the other bookish girl who knows things, they hang out together even though they only see each other in Hebrew School). When Rabbi asked for volunteers, off she went, with no prodding from me. When Rabbi asked questions, she knew the answers and raised her hand every time (though I did gently convince her to let others answer too). She followed Rabbi round the room when he walked with the Torah and got to hold the crown as he undressed the Torah to read from it. The snack of grape juice and plain challah was in her words, "GREAT!". The teachers and the madrachim who work with her all know her and chat with her (they think her articulate speech is so cute...I know because they tell me so). So I know that she likes Hebrew School and synagogue.

I'm a roil of emotions when I go to synagogue with my family. Part of me assumes that someone will suddenly turn and shout, "Christian! Not a Jew! Christian in the synagogue!" Some of that was about being alone with B. instead of having the reliance on the comfort of E. who loves me as I am. Some of that fear is clearly unwarranted as our shul has a large number of interfaith families. Some of that fear is the exaggeration of an articulated trend in the synagogue as its own enclave away from how Christian the world is. Some of it is not knowing all the words to prayers. This service was pretty good for me as I could sing many of the songs from having learned them at our dinner table on Shabbat over the last 15+ years. And those I didn't know were either easy or call and response. And I know the basic blessings cause we say them at Shabbat. But our prayer book has very little transliteration so it's very hard to follow along; the only thing that was transliterated was the mourner's Kaddish. So I feel like I can't show her the words or help her learn the prayers; I'm holding her back because of my ignorance. And yet, I notice that I am not the only mom there who doesn't know all the prayers. And some of them are the Jewish half of the parenting team. So I also feel both proud and a little self-important that my kid feels so good about being Jewish and that she knows so much about her traditions. And some of my feeling is loneliness that here I am at synagogue again, and tomorrow I will go to church alone again. When I've tried to explain what Christians believe to B., I end up with confusion about why Jews don't believe in Jesus.

This is just my reflection on where we are at raising a child with religion, if it matters to you and if it isn't your tradition. We agree about God as a force and the importance of living in right relationship with the world/people. We agree that the role of religion is helping understand God and creating a community for living in connection with the world. Maybe I've done what I need to do--provide a space for it in our home, teach the first level, and then find them teachers who will move on from there. And given my own religious history--baptized Catholic, raised Congregationalist, received Episcopalian as a grad student--it's kind of about finding your own expressions from the foundations given you (and sometimes you tear down that foundation completely and build afresh on the site, just to extend the building metaphor). And I wonder where M. will be--he's a very different child than B. and while he loved the candles and the singing this year at Chanukah and at Shabbat, it's too early to tell much else. I "worry" (some anxiety, not real worry) that it won't be as easy as it was with B., that it will be harder to catch his fire, that I won't have the strength to do it.

M. is going through a period of sleep upset. At first, I thought it was just the strangeness of being at Nana's and having to sleep in the pack n play in a room shared with Mama and Papa. We spent three nights at Nana's and he did not sleep through the night during any of them. In fact, I'm pretty sure that he didn't sleep 2 hours at a stretch for any of them. But we came home last night, in time for dinner at home, with bath and play in his own space before bed. We put him down at 7:40 and he began to howl before we were out of the room. We made visits in at timed intervals. At each he calmed right down, even consenting to lay down instead of standing at the crib rail. We tried his favorite They Might Be Giants cd--roundly rejected before the 1st song. We tried burning a cd of B. and I reading poems that we had made for E. for Chanukah in hopes that the sound of our voices would be reassuring--produced only brief intermissions between howls so loud he couldn't tell that any sound was on. We tried milk--rejected after a few sips. At 8:40 we were still dealing with a howler monkey. Finally, I took my turn reading by the book light while he lay down and he finally conked out about 9:15. I was absolutely terrified of leaving the room or making any noise whatsoever.

He's right now refusing his nap.

I'm at a loss. This is so draining. And we're supposed to go to M & L's for New Year's Eve and I'm afraid he will be like this. But maybe it will be ok.

Anyone know where the re-boot button is?