Another Week, Another Protest

…in both small and big ways.

Let’s start with the smaller one. On Wednesday the sun was shining, so we decided to go to a playground near the boys’ schools with two of Julian’s friends in the afternoon. It was a nice, chilly afternoon, and the kids were playing tag. When Julian came over to me, looking unhappy, I thought something had happened to him. I asked him if he was ok. He replied, “I’m ok. But Arthur’s not!” I thought he had fallen, perhaps, and hurt himself. But no. The other Kindergarten boys, Julian’s school friends, were calling Arthur “a baby.”

Arthur was a little mad and a little unfazed. I just told the boys to ignore such a ridiculous comment. I mean, just look at him. Clearly not a baby, right?

Ten minutes later one of the boys called Arthur a baby again, and this time Julian didn’t think twice about it and tackled his friend to the ground. Julian was red-faced and furious. I told him to stop, that’s not the way, but inside I was feeling proud. Julian walked away from everyone and sat on a bench, and tears started running down his face. I asked him if the boys were teasing him, too. He said, “No! They are mean to Arthur.”

Julian wanted to leave, and so we did. Truthfully, Arthur was fine. Julian was the one who was hurt and angry. But as soon as we turned our backs on the playground, my boys started laughing and running, and I knew all was good. And all will be good. At least for them. They have each other.

Now on to protests in bigger ways.

On Thursday afternoon, thousands of Yemeni business owners closed their delis and bodegas across the city to protest Trump’s immigration ban. The rally was right outside our house, so naturally we had to be there. When I picked the boys up from school, I explained to them about the protest and why we had to go to support our neighbors.

I may have explained it to them in Star Wars terms: we are the resistance, the rebels so to say, and you can all figure out who the Evil Empire is. Julian was way into it and was chanting “We are the resistance!”

We met so many lovely people.

When everyone started praying, the boys just watched. They were fascinated. The foreign language, the singing, the movements. It sparked so many conversations and questions I was somehow ill prepared for – given that we are non-religious. What is praying? What is God? But I think I managed fine. In the end, Julian said that it was a dumb ban, and if Trump keeps saying stupid things, we should just go live elsewhere.

On Friday, Julian had a puppet show at school, and all the kids were so excited. Not as excited as all the parents, however!

The kids were adorable. They also received their midterm “report cards.” Julian is “very ambitious, focused and precise and follows the rules well.” He should work on being more self confident. We are very proud.

Today we’re lazing around. Julian is now reading entire books, and it makes me so happy. He’ll whisper quietly to himself, and sometimes he’ll read a particularly funny part to me. He’ll read chapters to Arthur, but only behind closed doors in their room. For some reason he won’t read to me, but I’ll take what I can get. Sitting next to him, each of us reading our own books, is pretty much all I ever wanted.

Speaking of “reading”… this guy.

My Birthday – and my Boy Arthur

I had a lovely birthday weekend. 37! No big deal, really, except this year it landed on a Saturday. And for the first time the boys were super excited for the day.

On Friday night, the night before my birthday, Julian hugged me goodnight, patted me on the back and said, “Mama, you are the best woman I know.”

Best birthday present right there.

This kid, I swear, is growing into a man-child before my very eyes. It is mystifying.

The next morning Julian and Arthur woke me up with songs and homemade cards and love notes.

Then the boys, including my very grown-up boy, got to work and baked me a cake. While I laid in bed and read well-wishes and my book.

After a short while, it was time for this:

It was one of the best cakes ever, made with so much love and everything delicious that goes into a boxed cake. I mean, I like to bake and all, but this cake is pretty much impossible to top. It had a layer, so naturally the boys called it a “sandwich cake.” Count those candles.

We had a super laid back day with lots of reading, down time, some shopping and brunch in Manhattan. As we sat over our sandwiches and beers, it had started to snow. We walked around amongst the flurries, and it was magical. My people were happy.

At night Jeff and I went out to dinner to this really wonderful place that we’d been to with friends a couple of years ago and that luckily Jeff had rediscovered recently with our Sicilian downstairs neighbor/friend/hair salon owner, Fabio. It just so happened that we walked in, random guys shook hands with Jeff and said, “You’re Fabio’s friend, right?” So we were in for a treat.

Afterwards, I posed on a deserted, snowy street. 37.

To be honest, while this birthday was in fact one of my favorites, I’ve just been so full of worries. Worries about my baby and our nation. That just about sums it up.

Nation first: I am so excited to head to DC this weekend to show what this nation is all about: equality, empowerment, our future. The majority of this country stands behind us – this country that I’ve chosen as my home.

In other news, we need to make some changes in Arthur’s speech therapy, and I don’t yet know what that means. But he needs more help, or different help, than he is getting. While we understand him pretty well, and his vocabulary and thinking are way above average (I’m told), he has very little interaction with kids his own age who aren’t related to him (his brother). None of the kids in his school understand him, and it breaks my heart. So we’re figuring it out.

Meanwhile, this morning, I was asked to buy some second grade (“gifted & talented”) math books for Julian. (He already owns those.)

It was a day of very mixed emotions.

It’s so, so hard to see your kid struggle. I know in the grand scheme of things we’re dealing with something relatively “light.” I’m not worried about his life (as long as he’s not chewing on a walnut), but I do worry. I worry that he will shut down and will stop being ever so patient when repeating what he is trying to convey however many times it takes. I worry he will have a hard time making friends. I worry that kids will make fun of him (I’ve seen it happen).

I will do my damnedest to make the very best happen for this child.

Last night, after I came home from a lovely dinner date with Arthur’s former speech therapist-now-turned-friend, I kissed my boy’s sleepy hot cheeks and thought to myself, “Huh. He hasn’t interrupted my sleep in weeks. I kind of miss him.”

And that night he appeared next to my bed, the first time in weeks, and whispered something about monsters. I pulled him in, and he settled into the old comfortable nook of my arm, and for a moment everything in the world was as it should be.

 

Arthur Fun Day

On Fridays, Julian is in school until 5:30pm. He plays soccer after school, so Arthur and I have a very long day without him. I genuinely miss him, but it’s even worse for Arthur. He really misses his brother and friend.

I’m going to try to take him on adventures every now and then and make the day special for us. Today we went to Prospect Park.

We played “Superman” and “Octonauts” (omg that show!) at the playground. That outfit! Believe it or not, people still think he is a girl. It’s amazing.

Then we hit the zoo. It was quite chilly today!

Arthur said hi to a peacock.

We saw everything there is to see at this rather small zoo. It was lovely.

My favorite was the petting zoo. Arthur talked to every.single.creature. “Hi guys! How are you today? What is your name? Do you want some food? Sorry sheep! We have no more! We’ll get more next time! Bye! I will miss you.” It was adorable.

We had lunch at the zoo and on the way home, this.

I’d say it was a successful morning.

Arthur’s off!

Tomorrow is the first day ever when both of my children will be in school at the same time.

Julian suggests I read the paper, and Arthur recommends I busy myself by playing with his toys all day.

But let’s backtrack a little. Julian has been in school for a month now. Actually, it’s been exactly one month tomorrow. Arthur’s school was supposed to start a week after Julian’s (why?), but they have been delayed by a few weeks because the school moved into a bigger and better building and have been battling with all kinds of permits and such, and nothing moves fast. It’s been kind of frustrating.

This week Arthur’s school has moved outdoors, German “Waldschule” style, which is better than no school at all, but also not as great as actual school, with, you know, a roof over the kids’ heads.

On Tuesday Arthur had his first day, and even though there were many tears from many kids, Arthur kept it together.

I almost cried, because MY BABY! But I, too, kept it together.

Of course it was a holiday everywhere else, so Julian and I got to spend the day together. Over hot chocolate and a muffin.

Then we came home and baked Arthur our traditional “first day of school donuts” – because that’s a thing.

Arthur was happy at pick-up and flew straight into my arms. It was the best reunion ever.

At home donuts awaited him, and that too was a success.

This kid is growing up. What a difference to last year!

I’m so proud of our Arthur.

To Julian on the first day of school

Julian,

Today you started your first day of Kindergarten. The first day of school all day every day for many years to come. You’re growing in independence, height, brains, and heart faster than I can comprehend.

You are a kindergarten kid. You’re growing up so fast.

I blinked, and you went from this…

…to this.

You learned so much this year. You can ride your bike, swim, read, and are learning to whistle! You’re a good friend, and a wonderful brother. You love to learn. You make me so happy every day. You challenge me and keep my mind sharp; you surprise me and delight me, and what a gift it is for us to have you in our lives. I hope you’ll keep growing in independence and character, and I know that I will continue to be so proud of you.

This year you will have official school “subjects:” English, German, math, science, social studies, art, music. You get to play in Prospect Park every day. You’ll play soccer after school with your friends.

This morning was adorable. You were welcomed along with all the other new students, most of them Kindergartners like yourself. You received your “Schultüte” and were overall very composed/cool. Also, you chose your doughnut shirt for good luck, so obviously I think that was a wise decision.

You didn’t see it, but I totally cried. You stood on stage with all the other kids, waving at me, and I tried not to cry.

Then we took the obligatory photo.

We met your new teacher. She gave you a hug, and you gave me a hug, and Arthur, and Papa, and then you lined up next to Lorelei and took her hand and off you went.

And then I totally cried. But they were mostly happy tears mixed with pride and a little bit of sad, because you, my boy, are growing up so fast.

When you came home, we celebrated with “back to school donuts.”

You told us about who you ate lunch with, what you played at the park and how you got locked inside a bathroom stall (you climbed out underneath and told no one about it, so A for resourcefulness I say.) For dinner I made your favorite (pesto) and then assembled your lunchbox for tomorrow.

You’ve been in bed now for 40 minutes rhyming random words with Arthur, who, by the way, will miss you. Only today did it really occur to me how close you two have grown this summer. You did everything together; you are truly best friends. It’s my greatest joy.

Anyway, sleep well, my kindergarten boy. And welcome to a new part of your life-adventure.

The Truth about Lying

Well, we’ve made it to five without Julian ever telling a conscious, well-thought out lie. But now he’s discovered the convenience of lying, and it’s kind of hilarious. This boy may look 100% like his father, but he has his terrible lying abilities from his mother.

You may not know this about me, but I am a horrible liar. I can’t tell a lie even if it’s well intentioned or if it makes a situation easier. I mean, I can try, but no one would ever believe me. I am not convincing.

Julian, in this respect, takes after me. Two days ago the boys were playing kind of rough on my bed. Arthur cried out in pain, and I asked them what had happened. Julian immediately offered an elaborate story of how Arthur started falling and Julian pulled him by the arm and must have hurt him that way. Arthur looked confused and said, “No! He bit me!”

Shamefully, for an instant I didn’t believe Arthur. First of all because I’d never heard Julian tell me a lie, and secondly because he doesn’t bite. But then I realized Arthur doesn’t have the capacity yet to make something like that up.

So Julian stood in my kitchen, and I told him to look me in the eyes. “Did you bite your brother?” He averted his eyes and looked to the floor. “No.” That’s when I knew. He looked guilty. I had to ask two more times and then he finally caved.

Yesterday, in more disgusting boy-like events, we were playing together in the living room when Julian got up and disappeared into the kitchen for a minute. When he came back I asked him what he had been up to. He said, “I just looked out the window.” Right, kid. Nice try. I asked him two more times and assured him that whatever he could have possibly done was most likely not as bad as the fact that he was lying to cover it up. I was right. He had wiped a booger on my kitchen wall. Boys are so gross. And this one is an awful liar.

We’ve been having many conversations about the truth and lying. I tell him that even though he might get into trouble, he should always trust me, that I am always on his side, and that lying about something he’s done wrong just makes everything worse.

But a little part of me is getting such satisfaction out of him being such a bad liar. I can’t wait to see what he comes up with next.

He’s still my baby though, right?

Yesterday was the last day I ever nursed a baby. I’ve been waiting for the right day, for the moment I was ready to pull the plug, and then I realized that I would never be completely ready. I have nursed for 36 months total; that’s 3 years. 16 months with Julian, and (almost) 20 months with Arthur. Arthur is our last baby. He is my baby. I was waiting for him to lose interest, or for me to lose interest, but neither ever happened. I know I could have kept going. But a part of me is ready to let go and move on.

But it is hard. I think only mothers who have breastfed (and have loved doing so) will understand. I will never again be needed in that way. No more sleepless nights with a baby at my breast. No more impatient yanking on my shirt. No more of Arthur’s sign for milk (his index finger tapping on the little finger of his other hand).

I’m only writing this down because I know I will want to remember.

Last night I nursed Arthur to sleep, and that hadn’t happened in months. He was so exhausted from our busy day. As I held my sleeping babe in my arms, I quietly said goodbye to this thing that we had. To this special bond. The purest of acts. Giving, feeding, nurturing, loving.

Today I made sure I spent a lot of time with Arthur. We danced an extra dance, played trains and busses and Elmo and firetruck, and we read more bedtime stories than usual. It was my strategy to avoid the void, the feeling of guilt, the sadness of letting go.

I am still sad. But he is ok. His Papa rocked him for a few minutes, and he was fine. He whimpered once, and that was it. He is fine. He will never remember any of this. This is a fleeting moment in his life, his boyhood, and I won’t embarrass him later on with my emotional turmoil on this day in late December.

(That’s why I keep this blog. It will embarrass my children for me.)