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.
Sunday, October 26, 2014
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
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.
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.
Saturday, August 16, 2014
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.
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.
Friday, June 20, 2014
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.
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.
Monday, June 9, 2014
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.
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.
Monday, May 12, 2014
New Normal
Its always interesting the conversations you can have in the specialty aisles at the grocery store. Today, while just getting a few items, I had a lovely conversation with an older woman who has Celiac. We were comparing some of the snack and bread items available.
Anytime I see someone pondering a product or in search of something, I somehow become this social butterfly engaging random strangers in conversation. Granted, if they aren't responding, I back off. I don't want to be the weirdo in the grocery store. And, some of these conversations have also led me to meet others who might be that person. However, its rewarding to either give new information or share information. I had that a few months back at Barnes and Nobles while looking at some books in the cookbook section. An older woman was being shown the gluten free books by a clerk, and I was better able to direct her to what she was looking for (I had already seen it on the shelf). We started up a conversation, and before you knew it, I was able to give her some resources she wasn't aware of. It was such a rewarding feeling. So, for a day filled with errands and most likely limited human interaction, those few minutes sharing our experiences or findings become the highlight of my morning.
This food-aware community is growing, be it from allergies, sensitivities, or illness. You never know where or how you'll meet someone. My mammogram tech's high school aged daughter had a plethora of food allergies, and my new dentist's elementary school daughter has a few life-threatening allergies as well. You cannot escape this new reality. For our sake, hopefully this makes it easier as the Babe gets older. She won't be unique, and her situation will hopefully be seen as manageable to those around her. We will learn what is the new normal, grow, and accept it.
Anytime I see someone pondering a product or in search of something, I somehow become this social butterfly engaging random strangers in conversation. Granted, if they aren't responding, I back off. I don't want to be the weirdo in the grocery store. And, some of these conversations have also led me to meet others who might be that person. However, its rewarding to either give new information or share information. I had that a few months back at Barnes and Nobles while looking at some books in the cookbook section. An older woman was being shown the gluten free books by a clerk, and I was better able to direct her to what she was looking for (I had already seen it on the shelf). We started up a conversation, and before you knew it, I was able to give her some resources she wasn't aware of. It was such a rewarding feeling. So, for a day filled with errands and most likely limited human interaction, those few minutes sharing our experiences or findings become the highlight of my morning.
This food-aware community is growing, be it from allergies, sensitivities, or illness. You never know where or how you'll meet someone. My mammogram tech's high school aged daughter had a plethora of food allergies, and my new dentist's elementary school daughter has a few life-threatening allergies as well. You cannot escape this new reality. For our sake, hopefully this makes it easier as the Babe gets older. She won't be unique, and her situation will hopefully be seen as manageable to those around her. We will learn what is the new normal, grow, and accept it.
Friday, May 9, 2014
Morning Mood
The Babe is not a morning person. I may have mentioned that most mornings I get her dressed while she's mostly unconscious. She acknowledges me when I make her, but otherwise, she pretty much is sleeping through the process. Then she watches a show while she has some juice, goes to the bathroom, and then we're pretty much on our way. Today though was one of those days that had her whining and fussing. "Why are you rushing me? You know I'm not a morning person!" This out of the mouth of a five year old. She comes by this honestly, as my mother isn't and my grandfather wasn't much of a morning person. Granted, once she's in the car, the Babe generally snaps out of her morning snarky-ness (except today of course).
Today though she couldn't get past her mood. It was foggy outside, but that is still not an excuse. Lately she'll whine when she doesn't get her way, "This is the worst day ever!". Based on all our family health dramas, I hate when she says this. Today, I again told her how I dislike her saying that. You don't know what the day has in store, its only started. The fog will lift, she'll enjoy school, and if the day goes as planned, we'll be going to the kiddy pool. That does not bode for the "worst day ever". I reminded her how fortunate she is- she woke up in a comfortable bed, in a nice house, and had nice clean clothes to put on. I told her if she really felt it was the worst day, we could skip school and I could just lock her up in her room. Apparently she didn't like that option. Good thing, because that wasn't a real offer. See, Mommy can be snarky, too. However, I'm starting this day hoping for a good start to our weekend. Happy Mother's Day!
Today though she couldn't get past her mood. It was foggy outside, but that is still not an excuse. Lately she'll whine when she doesn't get her way, "This is the worst day ever!". Based on all our family health dramas, I hate when she says this. Today, I again told her how I dislike her saying that. You don't know what the day has in store, its only started. The fog will lift, she'll enjoy school, and if the day goes as planned, we'll be going to the kiddy pool. That does not bode for the "worst day ever". I reminded her how fortunate she is- she woke up in a comfortable bed, in a nice house, and had nice clean clothes to put on. I told her if she really felt it was the worst day, we could skip school and I could just lock her up in her room. Apparently she didn't like that option. Good thing, because that wasn't a real offer. See, Mommy can be snarky, too. However, I'm starting this day hoping for a good start to our weekend. Happy Mother's Day!
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