My nearly birthday boy

My sweet Imri,

I know, I've been negligent in writing my "letters" to you. So often I promise myself that I will sit down and write and life is so full and busy with you that time slips away. Besides, I'd rather be with you than write about you.

You are now 11.5 months old. I sent out invitations to your birthday party this past week and I can't believe it - a year. How quickly it has flown by, my beloved boy - what sweetness and joy you've brought into my life. It's somehow fitting that right now we are in the "Days of Awe", the ten days between the Jewish New Year and Yom Kippur - because while different in concept, I am in awe of you and the person you are becoming.



Last year, my induction was begun on Yom Kippur. I hoped you would not be born on that day - Yom Kippur is a solemn day of prayer and fasting - I wanted your birth to be a day of joy. You obliged me by holding out for 30+ hours of labour, finally arriving on October 14th at 13:47. According to the Jewish Calendar, your birthday should be this Tuesday and as one of our few remaining full days together, I intend on celebrating it quietly, just you and me.


Yes, I'm going back to work full time starting in November, gorgeous boy. It hurts so much to know that I will be missing so much of your development. I wish there was some way I could do otherwise but we really can't. I know I am luckier than many in having a great part of this first year with you but that makes it even harder in many ways. You are such a special child and I want you to get the nurturing that will enable you to blossom - I am not at all convinced that daycare is the place for that.

You are doing so much these days - you stood by yourself the other day! Stood and balanced for several long seconds - wonderful to behold! It won't be long before you're walking and wreaking havoc on everything around you. You absorb everything we tell you - you try so very hard to say words but "graaa" seems to be one of your multi-descriptor words these days. You do say "caaaa" for car and "gruuuh" for truck. You try and say "banana" and "phone" and pretty much everything we teach you and you remember most of those words when asked later. You point to a ball, a cup, a bottle, a chair when asked to. When I ask you to say "mommy" you meow and look very proud of yourself. The smile on your face when you see your daddy is brilliant.





You love food! Definitely something you inherited from mommy, sweet boy. You will try pretty much everything I put in front of you and you jonz for most things daddy and I eat. We call you the Shnorer, yiddish for moocher. Pizza (crusts), raisin bread, chicken, any and every fruit, most veggies. You think water is the beverage of champions and you aren't really happy that mommy is trying to get you to take formula in a sippy cup.


Books seem to be your absolutely favourite toy and that delights both your father and I to no end. Cars and anything with wheels come a close second. You love music and rock at the slightest refrain - you seem to really love when mommy sings, despite the lack of pitch. Watching music videos with mommy on youtube seems to be a favourite pastime. You are so much more mobile now, able to get on and off toys like your firetruck and rocking horse. Your walker is close to being obsolete - I know it's a matter of time before you take off at a run.




Everything is exciting to you. You love sitting or standing on the grass and watching the leaves fall. You've become fascinated with the outdoors and love going on your swing and even sliding down the slide. It's a big boy slide so I hold you but you still love it. I know you're just waiting to run across the lawn one day soon - I can imagine you diving into a pile of leaves and laughing out loud in glee.


You still don't like sleeping much, sweetheart and most of that is because mommy still nurses you at night, I think. Yet I hesitate to wean you completely because that sweet closeness we share is so very precious to me. That may be selfish of me, but I know it's also good for you. So we end up sharing mommy and daddy's bed at night and mommy doesn't get a lot of sleep (daddy stays on the couch)... but I know you are happy and secure in my arms and that matters a great deal in my book. You will wean one day - before I know it these sweet days will be over and you will be a big boy. You are already losing some of that "baby" look and it saddens and gladdens me at the same time.






You now have three teeth with three more perched and ready for entry. I've given you Motrin and Tylenol a few nights, mostly because I figured you had to be sore, not because you complained or cried. You are such a happy child. Even people who see you in a store comment on how happy you are - you attract people with your winsome smiles and sweet nature. It's really quite astonishing.





I am taking you for professional pictures on Tuesday and I really hope they go well. It's unfortunate that Daddy won't be able to come because I'd love a family picture but that will have to wait for another time. But I hope we get a good shot of you smiling that sweet smile of yours ... because I can never have enough pictures of the person you are, the person you are becoming.

I love you so much, Imri, my big boy. Don't grow up too fast, ok? I want to hold on to my baby for just a little while longer. And happy birthday, motek sheli. Ima ohevet otcha im kol halev.

Inviting in the hurt

I had mentioned a number of times to my mother how much it would mean to me that my parents come for Imri's first birthday. And it does - after so long, after so much heartache ... I want to be surrounded by friends and family. Nothing big, nothing outrageous. I'm not renting ponies, or hiring clowns. I figured on cake, ice cream and maybe some chips and dip. Soda, wine, you know. The basics. I figured on a few close friends, John's mother (and siblings, if they want to come which likely they won't), us and my parents.

I mentioned it a few weeks ago and then again a couple of times. I heard about the length of the drive and suggested that modern contraption, an airplane. After all, they were going to fly me (with Imri) to Toronto for Rosh Hashana, so they money is there. I mentioned flying S0uthwest out of Buffalo and heard "the border is awful and we need a car". I offered one of our cars and got hemmed and hawed at. I heard about a trip to Montreal for a barmitzvah, theatre tickets for Stratford and mostly "maybe" so I figured on "no".
I spoke to my husband today about it and suggested that maybe we go to Canada instead, so that I could be amongst family for what I perceive as a relatively big event and not put out my parents who are, after all, in their seventies. Relative being the term - again, I'm not going bananas here, just wanted a feeling of family around me.

So I broached the topic with my mother when they called this evening to wish us a Shana Tova. And I was shot down flat. That I shouldn't bother over something that small - that I should do as they did once and just keep it family only. I said that I was thinking of coming on the weekend of my birthday and we could celebrate the birthdays together and was told to "save it for something special" and how they just found out there was a batmitzvah in the family in early November and to think about that.

Yeah. So call me selfish if you wish, call me ridiculously self-serving to want my son's grandparents at his side for his first birthday. Call me stupid for opening myself up to my mother's rejection again. Call me stupid for wanting to pretend that our family is closer than we actually are. Call me stupid for noticing how my mom and dad seem to visit my brother's son fairly often but how they haven't mentioned anything about not seeing any pictures of Imri lately. Lately as in 3-4 weeks when I would send them regularly. Yeah, I'm so damned selfish, it hurts.

I will make a nice birthday for Imri. A small one. I will invite a couple of people and George's family. Maybe I'll send my parents an invitation. Maybe I won't. It doesn't seem to matter to them at all anyway. I won't make that mistake again.

Shana Tova U'Metuka 5767

A sweet and happy New Year to everyone. May this New Year bring us all happiness, joy and peace. A lasting and workable peace for this entire world.

May your names be inscribed in the Book of Life.

Amen.

Wish I were more eloquent but ... hey, it's the sentiment that counts.

Curiouser and curiouser ...

Why do they call it a green card?? It's not. Yes, that's my way of telling you nice folks that .. it's here!! I am a legal permanent resident of the USA. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, boys and girls. I tell you, strange things are afoot at the Circle K.




One of the strangest things I've ever encountered in my life - and I've been around several blocks multiple times - is looking into my son's face and seeing my own features reflected back at me. Particularly the eyes ...

When we found out we were having a son, we had the inevitable question of "oh, didn't you want a girl??" and the other strange and perplexing questions that people ask you when you're pregnant. One of my stock answers, other than "I just want a healthy baby" became "I want a little boy with his daddy's eyes.". Because in truth, John has gorgeous eyes. Deep-set and ocean-blue, they are witness to the flame that burns inside him and give echo to his inner - as well as more superficial - beauty.

When Imri was born, it appeared that indeed, I had been given a boy with his daddy's eyes and I delighted in that. Imri seemed to be John in miniature with nary a shade of his mother in him. But now that he is growing older and becoming his own self, I see that his eyes are becoming reflections of mine, the whole upper structure of his face is taking on a masculine hue of his mother.

It is startling and humbling and wonderful and eerie and if it was possible to love him even more for it, I do. Rightly or wrongly, I do. I hold him high above me and gaze into that curiously familiar face - and we both smile big. And more than likely, we laugh.

Can you taste the bitter?

It's Friday night and I'm sitting here at the computer. I could - rather, should, be in bed because I get so little sleep anymore that I really do try and take advantage of Imri's every sleeping moment. But I also want to have a life, you know? I mean, John sleeps downstairs on the couch most nights, I work and take care of Imri and that's about all - what life do I have outside of kirche, kuche and kinder? Well, not much kirche, either. At all, actually.

And not much kuche either, sadly. I love to cook and these days I'm lucky if I get a chance to heat up something frozen or premade. *sigh*.

It doesn't make me sad, heck no ... the kinder part makes up for all of it and then some - but I am tired - extraordinarily so, and wouldn't mind some time off. Not necessarily time off from Imri, but just some vacation time. Which brings me to this weekend.

You see, John has his annual golf tournament and this year it's in Atlantic City. He and Imri and I were all set to go, only Jr has class on Saturday. We live in the sticks, ergo no bus service on the weekend. We thought we had it worked out, with Jr's buddy coming over and serving partially as chauffeur, when Jr started acting like an ass. Yeah, you could say that a nearly eighteen year old male is that by definition, but it's starting to really get old.
It's difficult to explain, suffice it to say that we have to ask for things to be done multiple times and if they aren't done within 5 minutes of asking, they are forgotten. Or if he does one thing while in the middle of another, something gets left half-finished, like taking your plate to the dishwasher after a phone call. Simple stuff, not complex crap. Things get forgotten - important things, like making sure the door to the house is closed when you leave- not locked, mind you ... closed. As in shut. Yeah.

Taking the garbage out. Not leaving underwear on the bathroom floor. Mopping up after yourself if the bathroom floor is covered with water after your shower. Not taking 45 minute showers. Calling to schedule appointments - like driving classes, for example. And so on. I know if may sound like normal teenage boy crap to some, but I'm telling you ... it is CONSTANT. Multiple times a day. And it has been constant for years now, I kid thee not. Years. I am so tired of it and of the attitude that goes with it. Strangely enough, instant messenger and video games somehow never get forgotten. Isn't that funny?

So back to the weekend - we were all set to leave tomorrow only Jr's ride fell through. John won't let him bike to work because he would have to go over busy highway on a narrow bridge (whatever, I am tired of arguing that one with an over-protective father) and Jr doesn't fight it because it's less work for him (have I mentioned the lazy part?)Also, Jr has been acting like an ass and we feel we can't trust him alone in the house. This was to be his first time alone in the house - for one day and one night and we feel it's just not smart. For all the reasons mentioned above and more.

I won't let John miss his tournament so guess who has to stay home and wipe the ass play chauffeur to a nearly 18 year old? Yeah, I'm pissed. This was supposed to be my vacation, the only vacation I've had this summer. One day and one night and even that would have been me and Imri doing stuff because John would have been golfing all day Saturday and Sunday. Still, I was looking forward to it and now ...grrrrr.

I told John that next weekend I want to go out to the ocean. I want to be near the water and want to relax and take it easy, sand on my feet, etc. Of course, the weather will probably suck next weekend, but cest la vie, right? John has agreed, so we may go next weekend to Rehoboth, or Ocean City. And Jr will just have to fend for himself, so sorry. If we go. Which I bet we won't. But if we do, I'm guessing he'll be taking a taxi cab or three. I'm not sure why he can't do that this weekend other than the aforementioned over-protective father.

Yeah, you can hear the bitter. Step-parenting isn't easy, especially not with an unappreciative and ungrateful kid. You get shit on a lot and hearing "oh, he'll appreciate you when he's older" doesn't alleviate the sting of working your ass off for someone and knowing the "I love yous" go to someone completely undeserving and who gets those sentiments courtesy of a biological accident and not much else.

Anyway. I feel slightly better for getting all that out and somewhat guilty for feeling that way. I know I have far too much resentment built up inside over Jr and it's not something recent but I really need to get over it. Having Imri has helped greatly but perhaps I'm just selfish enough that I never will get over it. Dunno.

And on other good news, John has told me we really could use a full time income from me and wants me to go back to work full time once Imri turns a year old. I don't know - it really is breaking my heart. I want to be a SAHM and can't - I'm working three 10 hour shifts now but get no bennies and poor vacation/sick time. My boss approached me about returning to full time after I spoke to the office manager about it (in confidence, so much for that) and I mentioned working M-F 7:30 to 3:30 which would allow me to pick Imri up around 4ish and still spend partial afternoons with him ... or I could do 4 ten hour shifts and have one day off ... which is killer but I could make it work.

But I'd miss our time together. Our special days - the days we tool around and just do stuff, go shopping, walk around. Especially now that he's getting older and more interested in the stuff that there is to do. I love being with Imri. I love seeing him grow, seeing his eyes widen with surprise and laughter as I push our shopping cart full-speed down a deserted Costc0 aisle, watching his discoveries and learning, snuggling with him at naptime, breathing in his scent as he lies in my arms, asleep (not for long and not often enough, but the sentiment remains). He is becoming himself and I am loathe to miss a moment of it and I already miss so very much.

But we need the money. I am so very torn.

I did, however, give my husband the caveat that until Imri started sleeping better, I wouldn't be doing anything full-time because I can't work 40 hour weeks in my job and function on 4-5 hours of broken sleep. No way, no how.

So there you have it, my stream of consciousness babble. And now, off to bed with me before I get absolutely no sleep at all.