Our Kindergarten Graduate

I've been a little light on my blogging lately.  In part it was because I was still observing the year of mourning for my father.  The other part was because I didn't want to go on about school until we made it through.  Call me a bit superstitious.  As I type, the Babe is finishing her last day of kindergarten.  We attended her graduation yesterday. 

We are so thankful for how this school year went.  First off, we got an amazing teacher.  The Babe loves her, as do the rest of her classmates.  She's kind, caring, patient, and truly enjoys her class.  Beyond her personality though, she's an excellent teacher.  I volunteered many mornings in the classroom, assisting with kid writing.  The progress I saw from the start of the year until now is impressive.  The Babe started the year with skills that not all her classmates had.  Some kids couldn't recognize the alphabet, and now are writing short paragraphs in neat print.  They know what narrative, persuasive, and fiction writing is.  The Babe can do simple addition.  When she reads aloud to me, its a beautiful thing. 

This has been a wonderful experience.  We feared whether the Babe would be safe in a school environment.  Working with her school, we set safeguards in place.  Her teacher went above and beyond- worrying over things that weren't necessarily identified as potential hazards in the beginning.  She watched over all the kids, but I knew the Babe was protected.  Next year will be a little different as the Babe will be attending school for the full day including lunch.  We will be addressing this later in the summer, but for now, we are thrilled with the experience so far.

As for the Babe herself, she made friends, got to experience the playground, and just overall thrived in school.  During their graduation they performed several songs.  Some had moves added.  The Babe was the kid up there with a smile, shaking her hips and moving her shoulders.  I think if there was an agent present, they would have approached us.  That's not something we want to pursue, but the Babe certainly doesn't have stage fright.    My next challenge will be finding ways to keep the Babe busy this summer without breaking the bank or driving me crazy. 

A Special Teacher

I may have mentioned that the Babe loves school.  A large part of this is due to the wonderful teacher she has.  The curriculum that is taught seems advanced, but well introduced to the kids.  The teacher maintains a level of discipline while ensuring the kids have fun with learning.  On top of that, she gets the allergy issues.  She worries about the Babe in her classroom on a level that makes me very comfortable having the Babe there.  I just wish her teacher could continue with the Babe as the Babe moves up in grades.

When the kids leave for the day, they line up to catch their buses.  I drive the Babe to and from school, so I wait at the building entrance for her.  Almost every day the Babe gives her teacher a hug goodbye (she's not the only child vying to hug her sweet teacher).  Many times the Babe has asked her teacher to come over for a visit.  Just before winter break, her teacher, Miss H, realized she could come over the Tuesday before Christmas.  So I invited her and her teenage daughter for dinner. 

The weeks before Christmas, the kids had a lot of holiday books read to them, including several about Hanukkah.  While in the classroom volunteering, her teacher and I were discussing latkes, or potato pancakes.  Apparently, she'd never had them before.  On the night she came for dinner, I planned to make latkes.  In addition, I served baked chicken, roasted broccoli, salad, and a chocolate frosted chocolate cake. 

Just after Miss H and her daughter arrived, so did our builder.  We'd been dealing with a leak in our kitchen faucet, and my husband caught him working on an adjacent property.  So while I was prepping latkes (thankfully I had just peeled the potatoes before I lost access to my sink), the builder and my husband were taking apart my kitchen faucet, and Miss H, her daughter, and mine played nearby. 

I tried a new way to make my latkes, and they came out perfectly.  Granted, it takes a while to fry up a whole batch, but it was definitely worth it.  Miss H and her daughter seemed to thoroughly enjoy them.  After they left for the night, all I could smell was the cooking oil/potato smell in my hair, which made me want to make some more.  I haven't yet, but think they'll be on the menu very soon.  Despite a few hiccups at the start of the evening (um, no access to my kitchen sink!), we had a very pleasant evening and a good meal.  Here's my latke recipe:

Gluten-free Egg-free Potato Latkes
4-6 medium russet potatoes
1 onion (yellow or sweet)
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 C white rice flour
1 Tbsp ground flax seed + 3 Tbsp water
Canola Oil- lots of it

1. Peel potatoes.  (Placing peeled potatoes in a bowl of ice water will slow them from turning color).
2. Grate potatoes and onion in a food processor or with a hand grater (watch those knuckles!).
3. Add the potato and onion mix to a bowl.  Drain liquid.  Then, add flaxseed-water mixture, salt, and rice flour.
4. Heat oil in a large frying pan, about 1/4 inch up the side of the pan.
5. Place a large tablespoon-full of batter in the pan.  Try not to overcrowd, otherwise it will be harder to flip.  Keep on medium heat.
6. Wait for the bottom of the pancakes to firm, and brown (depending on heat of your oil, should take 3-4 minutes).  Flip when a medium brown, and press down on the pancake to flatten. Continue to cook until other side is browned (again, if oil is hot, should be another 3-4 minutes). 
7.  Place on paper-towel covered plate to absorb some of the excess oil.
8.  Eat and enjoy. 
* Traditionally latkes are eaten with applesauce and sour cream.  We substitute Sour Supreme for the sour cream, and its just as good. 

Silencing the Music

I haven't written much in the past few months.  I have thought to, but then got pulled away by something or other.  I also have been hesitant to write because despite trying to keep things normal for the Babe, I'm still in mourning for my father.  Jewish custom or tradition is that a child observe an eleven month mourning period for a parent.  During that time, certain activities are abstained from, as one should avoid joyous activities such as listening to music or going to parties. 

For me, the music has been silenced.  I no longer listen to music in the car or at home.  I rarely drove without music playing in the car before.  Now, its only on if others put it on.  If I'm alone and a news show starts playing music, I change the channel.  The only time I now intentionally hear music is when I go to religious services.  Then, the music is a double-edged sword.  I enjoy it, but it is painful because I associate my father with that.  He sang off and on with temple choirs, and when attending services, he always sang in a strong, loud voice.  As I now attend services in a different synagogue (in a different state), the voices and harmonies are slightly different.  Sometimes though I can hear him in my head, and its difficult.  One song at the end of services is too much for me that I don't know if and when I'll ever be able to sing along to it. 

While I intentionally am not doing certain things, I can't deprive the Babe of being a child and enjoying what is around her.  That meant a birthday celebration, sightseeing when friends and family visit, watching her shows, and all things that are important to my now six-year-old. 

In the past few months, we have celebrated her birthday with family and friends.  She has lost her two bottom front teeth.  She is loving kindergarten, and becoming a stronger reader and writer.  We did our annual apple picking and pumpkin picking.  We went to Washington D.C. with my sister and niece when they came for a brief visit.  Later this week we'll be participating in Halloween festivities at school and in our neighborhood.  Life goes on.  Right now its just a little bittersweet for me.

School Days

Yesterday was the first day of kindergarten for the Babe.  We were both excited.  There were no tears from either of us. 

For some parents, I know its a milestone reflecting that your baby is no longer a baby.  For me, it meant a little more freedom, a lot more knowledge.  As the Babe is my only child, she will always be my baby.  Kindergarten won't change that fact. 

The bittersweet element was that my father and mother-in-law aren't here to know how well yesterday went.  Had things been different, I probably would have called my mother-in-law when I got home from dropping the Babe off at school, to tell her how things went.  She would have wanted to hear all the details, and would have kvelled (Yiddish for "to feel happy or proud").  My father would have also enjoyed hearing about how the Babe just jumped right into school.  Yes, we shared with my mother and father-in-law about how the morning went.  And yes, they were also happy for how well things went.  It just would have been nice to share with everyone.

As for the school and the Babe's teacher, I am very happy.  I met with the school nurse and school principal separately, and a telephone conversation with her teacher, prior to the start of school.  Medication was turned in, safety plans were put in place.  We will all meet later this week to review everything.  Everyone knows who the Babe is, and are doing their best to keep her safe.  The Babe can concentrate on learning and making new friends, and just be.

Plunging into Action

I did something for the first time ever only for the love of my child.  I used a plunger.  Yes, not an exceptional act, but it was in a gas station bathroom.  And it was before she even used it.

We drove to Washington, DC to meet friends who were visiting from Wisconsin.  It's the first time I've ever driven there, as my husband had to work.  Last time we had gone on a weekend and it took about two hours to get there.  This time with our pit stop, road construction, and summer weekday traffic, it took us three hours.

But I digress.  We were about twenty minutes into our ride, just hitting a more rural area, when the Babe suddenly had to go to the bathroom, and it was an urgent need.  Within a few minutes, there was a motel coming up.  Went into the office to find out there were no public restrooms.  How rude when it was clearly a child in need, but fine, she directed us to a gas station across the way.  Not a shiny new one, but again, kid in crisis.  So on we go to the gas station.  One semi-dingy bathroom inside with a stuffed toilet.  And no, no other toilet available.  The clerk didn't offer any assistance, so we went back in, and I used the plunger.  The Babe was impressed.  I'm glad I did it because she definitely needed to go.  Fortunately it worked.

Eventually we made it to DC, and she got to see the ruby slippers again with her friends.  I do love DC, but if I can avoid it, I'll let someone else do the driving.  The driving itself was fine, it was navigating my way that was a bit of a challenge.  Then again, next time I'll probably be better oriented, but it's always better with another adult.  Plus, five and a half hours of driving round trip is exhausting for me.  Again, worth it to see our friends and do something fun.  The key things my daughter talked about from this trip were seeing me plunge a toilet, and visiting the gift shop.  Just your average day.

My father

My father unintentionally set high standards.  By unintentional, I mean by how he led his life, and just by how he was.  He was kind and nice, with rarely a mean thing to say.  He had a unique sense of humor, and liked to tease- in a nice way. 

By setting a standard, I knew what I wanted in a life partner.  No, I was not a "Daddy's girl", nor was I looking for a replica of my father when I found my husband.  However, things about my father that were worth seeking in others included his willingness to help.  If something needed to be done, he did it.  He was the man who washed sheets and towels, vacuumed, took out the garbage, cleaned the gutters, fixed sockets (which I never liked him dealing with electricity, because sometimes he didn't always think he needed to turn off the power while doing it), and just about whatever he thought he could do.  He learned by watching his father try to fix things.  He learned how to paint a room by watching his father and a family friend (yes, I know anyone can paint, but he always did a very neat, nice job).  Speaking of neat, my father was very neat about his person.  He always carried a nail file in his wallet, and had nicely shaped nails.  He never liked his hair getting too long.  Sometimes though his haircuts might be a tad short because he always enjoyed chatting up his barber.  And he made sure to continue to go to the aging barber so that he had business. 

Growing up, he was the first one up in the house.  He was the one who made oatmeal or scrambled eggs (my mother would have if we waited for her to get up a little later).  He was also the one who dealt with middle of the night stuff.  He made something he called a "guggle muggle" for an upset tummy or bad cough (warmed milk with butter and sugar).  It was initially gross, but then grew on you, and oddly enough, fixed the problem. 

He loved music- to listen to it or sing it.  He sang in choirs off and on for many years.  I remember many Saturday afternoons having records playing.  He would listen to any kind of music, although was fond of opera and classical.  He also enjoyed gardens, gardening, and zoos. 

My father was a high school biology teacher.  During summer break, he would teach in a private school, so that we could afford a nice road trip at the end of summer.  Although my mother would plan visits to museums and historical sights, the best times were the four of us in the hotel pool, or my father sitting poolside with a cigar (a cigar was a very rare thing).

My daughter would like to add her thoughts about her Grandpa.  She remembers him for playing golf in our yard with her little playset.  He showed her a good grip that she still uses.  She remembers going to a few museums with him.  He always loved to watch her build with her blocks, and was amazed at the details.  She loved to perform for him, and he loved to watch.

My daughter remembers snuggling with him on the couch.  I used to do the same.  My Dad was a warm, loving family man.  He will be missed.

Once again...

I don't want to write this.  One week ago tonight we lost my father.  This has been a horrible year for us.  My daughter has lost two beloved grandparents in less than two months time.  My mother has lost her husband, my sister and I have lost our father.  He was a good man, a kind man, an exceptional man.  No one has anything bad to say about him.  Saying much more right now though is hard.

The most important thing to my father was family.  He was a man of faith.  He loved to sing.  He loved to teach.  He loved photography and nature.  Nothing made him happier though then spending time with my mother, my sister, myself, or his grandchildren. 

Now, we have to learn to live with another gap in our family tree.  My husband and I should not have to sympathize with each other based on first-hand experience, but we do.  We are both raw from our mutual losses.  Hopefully the Babe can remember her grandparents well, with love and happy memories.  She is only five, but right now has an amazing memory.  I hope that helps her as she grows, she does not forget.  Another day I will try to post happier thoughts.  Right now though I will go and quietly reflect.