Holidays Traditions, Part I - New Year's Eve Fancy

Our family has a New Year's Eve tradition of going to a restaurant that is not called Noodles, Chipotle or Noodles or Chipotle. (Appropriately, this happens just once a year.) So today, our adventure took us a few blocks away via a wagon-ride in single digit weather.

Dinner was frantic. June's piercing voice seemed only more so due to our surroundings. Clara "supervised" John, who dropped plates, flirted with neighbors, and tried the entire meal to climb on the table. Will brought his new prized possession - a calligraphy pen - and played family secretary to record our resolutions. We didn't get very far.

I love New Year's Eve. I am very susceptible to cheap inspiration. I love new beginnings. I love making resolutions. I have many. I just haven't had the chance to flesh them out. In fact, that's one of my resolutions: live with clarity, and finish things!

But even without a neat list of goals, I can count many, many blessings with complete clarity as 2011 begins.

Spiral Garden

We seem to be juggling so many projects and plans this month, it is hard to focus and write. But to zero in on just one event, Clara's first grade class last week held a spiral garden in the courtyard outside her classroom that was pretty special.

As it got dark, the parents gathered around a spiral of lights, while the kids sang and one by one walked the spiral and brought a candle to the center. A few people got nervous when the kids flocked, or rather stormed, the table full of candles towards the end. I guess after chanting "Peace to You" for about 45 minutes, we forgot about the potential dangers of mixing first graders and fire. Still, it was beautiful and touching, and at least for me (with miraculously only one child in tow) it succeeded in carrying the message of Peace.

Consumption Part II: Coffee Shops

I must be honest. I take my kids to coffee shops. More thank I'd like to admit. Once a week, probably more. I am not proud. It seems so indulgent. So frivolous.

Some places have become rituals: the tea shop where we walk after June's gymnastics; the coffee store by the playground on days we bike to school; the coffee shop on Pearl St. on weekends.

Although I sometimes cringe at the feeling of spoiled kids when they pitch a fit over whipped cream or not enough zucchini bread crumbs, the kids' comfort there cracks me up. Here is just one picture to show it.

Consumption Part I: Toy Stores

The holidays are here, and my to do list is long. Along with millions of parents, I am consumed with thoughts of gift-giving -- for my children, their teachers, our families, our neighbors.

Ironic really, since the Christmas wish of 1/3 of my household is to have LESS stuff, not more. For one, it is his ONLY Christmas wish.

I'd like to spend more of our resources on experiences, rather than the consumption of things. But honestly, consumerism can feel like an experience in and of itself. Going to a toy store is just that. There's really no need to bring anything home.

Since I am currently in between cameras, I am relying on old pictures here, but many of them capture the thrill of the toy store, enough even to leave all the "stuff" there.

Holiday Parade

We attended a memorable holiday parade on Saturday. This particular year it was memorable not so much for the fire trucks, the Chinese dragon, the happy bikers and the cub scout groups as for Jeff's restaurant comedy routine. A free man, he stood behind us, on the other side of a glass window, and dined on ribs with a front row seat to view his candy-driven children. Here and there, Clara or June would run in and grab a bite before coming back out to see the guide dogs-in-training or the dancers. John couldn't decide. He cried with me wanting inside, then cried with Jeff wanting out. Mostly he stood wearing his party beads at the restaurant door.

It never works to have a picture-perfect idea of these events anyway - our family cuddled together in a neat row, holding hands, loving glances. So, instead, I'll take the funny: my husband kicking back, drinking a beer, enjoying the food and the family, from afar!

Thank You

Today, I told June thank you for helping me with something. Not to be one-upped, she thanked me for helping her by being her teacher. My mind flipped to potential elaborations, such as:

• Thank you for teaching me to say "like" 5 times in 1 sentence;
• Thank you for teaching me how to make a major mess;
• Thank you for teaching me how to get stressed out;
• Thank you for teaching me how to overcommit;
• Thank you for teaching me how to talk on the phone.

Instead, she said, "Like thank you for like teaching me like stuff like how the earth like goes around." I know she didn't mean it in any profound sense, but I allow myself such liberties. It's actually a decent summary of my motherly goal.

The Road Not Taken

It's funny that parenting can be lonely given how common parenting is. On days when I feel that I'm in my own little universe, it is helpful to remember that millions of parents surely must have had the very same thoughts as I do, such as:

Thought #1: How can I spend all day trying to create order, yet the day's end looks and feels like chaos?

Thought #2: In any given situation, which is better: try to model kindness or play the stern parent role? (I brood on this one a lot.)

Thought #3: The right answer to #2 has got to be the one I did NOT choose!

Anger with a Touch of Love

This weekend, Clara and June got mad at Will. I have no recollection why, nor do they. But they wrote a very important note to express their feelings:

Translation: "Will is not alawd in are rume Love Clara and June heart heart heart heart Clara heart June heart." Quite a gushy admonishment, I'd say.

It's a good reminder, to lace our expressions of anger with a little bit of love.

Haikus

We have a quasi-tradition in our family to include a Haiku on our holiday cards, when we manage to send them. Since the poem is a throwback to our own 4th grade poetry in the 70s, many people are probably a bit confused by the jarble of words. One year, we got giddy late at night and found amusement in the following:

Three little cherubs

Wish a happy birthday to

The fairy Jesus

Clara was into fairies that year and had recently asked if Jesus was one, too. We thought it was quite funny, but when even my sister expressed shock at our card, I felt a little sheepish.

Still, we've stuck to the tradition - just because it's nice to do something different and we can't think of anything else. So here are a couple of contenders for this year:

Based on June's doll, Jeff offered:

A magical birth

On Christmas (or any day)

Sweet Clospar arrives

Will sounded like a young poet with this one:

The moon shines at night

Raining white light on the earth

Making all shadows.

Hopefully, we'll decide on one before the theme changes to Valentines.

Greed

The kids are out of school. We spent the morning in the kitchen and playing games. Then, thanks to Greed, the afternoon was remarkably smooth. Will, Clara and June made out their Christmas wish lists and were united and consumed in their "I want, I want, I want" euphoria.

P.S. When I fix my broken camera, pictures will follow...

Avoidance

We're not avoiding the birds and the bees conversation. Really. We just didn't realize (until Jeff watched it himself) that the Planet Earth-like bug movie we got for Will was really insect pornography. We may some day need to help transfer his knowledge to the human world, but at least we don't have to guess about his current level of sophistication.

Giving In

Lately, I am aware of the many moments when our kids are in suspended animation. It seems so unnatural, but at the same time, these circumstances are necessary to get from a to b, or just from hungry to fed:

• John, strapped down in his carseat (it always seems so unnatural) just waiting to get where we're going and be taken out. Or if we're already home, waiting there as I cart groceries and such from car to kitchen.
• The girls, standing before us at night with mouths wide, waiting to get their "finish" for brushing teeth.
• Everyone waiting for turns.
• June, holding my hand, just looking around while I chat with other moms.
• John, strapped in to his stroller, waiting for a push.
• John and June, strapped into the burley behind the bike.
• The kids sitting at the dinner table, waiting to be fed.
• John and June sitting behind a wheel in a grocery cart, with the cruel illusion of being in charge.

I prefer to feel in control of my life, and really want my kids to be in control of theirs, too, but a little bit of giving in sure helps everyone's sanity. Most often, the kids are in motion, in charge of their fate (with a small f). But in these moments when they're so vulnerable and dependent, I want to cuddle them up and say thank you, for choosing not to fight my dominion!

Engineering

Today, we went on our first hike of the season. I love cold weather hikes - the sunlight, the crisp air, the feeling of clarity. But, there was one more motivating factor: I want my kids to remember hiking in Chautauqua, all through the seasons, as part of their childhood.

Then it dawned on me: I'm like an engineer. Of the genetic variety, just post-birth.

All parents are really. You have to be. You have to plan. And you can't help but expose your kids to what you love at the expense of other things. It's not slimy. It's just something to be aware of. And goodness knows, there are plenty of times when it all feels like a big science experiment, so a little directed engineering is ok! Right?

Check out the tights June wore for our hike! Can't engineer that! (Nor can I engineer the picture so you can see the whole thing!)

Elephant in the Elevator

Recently, while taking one of my kids for an annual check-up, we rode up the elevator with a man holding a baby in a carrier. We "ooo-ed" and "ahhhh-ed" at her, before the man burst out: "O.K. Lets just dispense with the elephant in the room: I'm her grandfather, and they call me dad."

All this happened between the 1st and 3rd floors. I left the elevator, still unsure if he was the father or the grandfather - and I didn't care. I just thought the baby was cute. I'd hardly looked at this guy!

But it left me thinking of all the elephants in the room that parents THINK others see. I can certainly get absorbed with them. Little ones ("Why can't that mom ever brush her daughters' hair?) and big ones, too ("That mom clearly has no clue what she's doing...").

Maybe it would help to just dispense with it and shout out loud, like the guy in the elevator: "Honestly, I'm doing my best!" or "You have no idea what it took to get my kids out the door this morning!"

But really, it reminds me how easy it is to get caught up in our own worlds. Maybe people think the tangled hair is cute. Or my cloud of parental chaos might just make people laugh, or run, or reflect on their own freedom. Anyway, I recognize that I choose my elephants. And it's likely that as my circumstances change, rather than fade away, they'll just call for replacements.

Holding Hands

In the past five days, we've been holding hands with our cousins - for guidance and affection.

There was some virtual hand-holding between the oldest cousins of the group. Walking home from a Sunday brunch, they confided in each other their magical powers, their visions, the enemies lurking in nearby bushes. One would strike with a sword, the other with an outstretched paperclip.

They walked quietly. Thoughtful and steady. (Unlike the gait of their younger siblings.) Their 8-year-old selves are so strong, side by side. Poised to face the world.

Halloween

This Halloween, everyone was a bird. It just happened that way really.

CLARA decided some time this summer that she wanted to be a bluebird.

JUNE, in true little sister fashion, countered with a Cardinal. (The same, yet different.)

JOHN followed suit as a canary only the day before when I realized that I'd thrown away our tried and true baby bee costume before we knew there would be a John.

WILL chose to be Horus, the Egyptian God who happens to have a Falcon head.

Anyway, there were lots of feathers - boa-style around the neck, tucked in ponytails, painted on faces, draped onto footy PJs...

This was the best part of Halloween - the kids' anticipation as their costumes evolve, their glow when the costume is complete, and then the giddy running from house to house to reap the reward.

However, we had our moments, as we do every Halloween. I always end the day with vows to simplify, but it seems like we could simplify to nothingness and STILL have freak-outs!

Noses

John has discovered his nose. Today, as I am driving, June shouts, "Mom! John has his finger in his nose. It seems like it's stuck!"

I remember this phase with all the kids, the time they figure out this perfect fit for their tiny little fingers. For some, the phase lasted quite a long time. For others, it was a nervous tick. For example, "Hi, this is my daughter June" was code word for "Put your finger in your nose."

Anyway, John's personal discovery happened today. He seems quite enthralled. In fact, if you ask him about any body part, he points to his nose. I say, "John. Where are your toes?" And he points to his nose. Or "John, where are your ears?" And he points to his nose. Not a precise pointer finger to the tip of his nose, but more like a failed drunk driving test kind of point, somewhere on the side.

Anyway, we'll see how long the fascination lasts. It does remind me how parents are so blindly gaa-gaa over their own children: I think it's cute!

Shell Bags

We've just come home from Mexico. It was a trip seeking simplicity, on the beach or in a pool. My goal was to strip away all things except bathing suits, and all thoughts not about the present moment.

Packing, however, was quite the opposite. It was all about gathering things and thinking of the future!

But in the midst of that shuffle, I was determined to make shell bags for the kids. I wanted them homemade, basic, accessible, and unique. Although June ditched hers for dancing on platforms instead, Will filled his with sea glass, and Clara filled hers with shells.

I was glad I made them, even if it meant bringing more stuff to Mexico and finishing them minutes before we first put our feet in the sand.

(This is Will in his present moment, making a sand angel.)

(This is Clara in her present moment, sizing up the sea.)

Will & Clara & June & John

Will and Clara and June and John

went down to the beach (to play one day)

and Will discovered a fish that shined

so brightly he kept it in a drawer by his bed;

Clara befriended a motionless dragonfly

whose body was blue like the ocean and head see-through like water;

June was chased by a weightless feather

and then danced like one to the sound of the waves;

John came home with sand in his toes

tiny little balls but as big as everywhere.

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me or a John)

it's always ourselves we find at the sea

The REAL poem by e.e. cummings is one of our favorites: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15406

Echoes

Today, June and I walked through a wind tunnel. It reminded her of the echo sounds we make when we bike along paths under bridges. Then she said, "The echoes are like mirrors." In her beautiful head, she found a connection between echos and reflections. In my head, I found a connection between kids and poetry.

Celebrate

In our household, we have much to celebrate. Most recently, it was Jeff's slug birthday. Let me explain:

It all started with Will. When he was I think 3, he decided he was part tiger, which has stuck for, oh about a decade? But everyone caught on. A huge percentage of our conversation is consumed by talk about being 1/2 tiger, 1/2 dolphin, 1/2 horse, 1/2 eagle, 1/2 snake, 1/2 cat, 1/2 dog... (It's a great study in fractions.) Each animal association brings special powers, sensitivities, and insights. Jeff has caught on with some of the more obscure animals such as slugs, sloths, guinea pigs, worms.

The exciting thing is that all these alter-egos have birthdays! All you have to do is say, "Today is my jellyfish birthday," and shazam! Cupcakes for everyone!!!

It helps that one of Jeff's co-workers makes and sells amazing cupcakes on the side. She started her own "Be Sweet Bakery". As regular customers, the kids can generally pull off a birthday every month.

Preoccupied

Jeff and I have been a little preoccupied cheering on our newest walker in the family. He's so cute! Waddling around, falling often.

And suddenly, everyone mysteriously wants to pretend like they are babies, learning how to walk or learning how to talk. Even the oldest is inventing a new language to display those learning-to-speak traits. On top of that, in their games they suggest that John is 40. Ouch!

Is there a message here?

Here is the "goo goo gaa gaa" baby face of one of the participants: tongue out, eyes wide, mouth open. You know, like babies.

Family Art

This weekend, the seasons changed. I have loved our warm weather days - the biking and hiking and river sloshing. I could do that stuff forever. And parenting is so much... smoother in the summer, with all the fresh air and running around outside.

But still, a part of me looks forward to the cold weather. Here are a few reasons why:

• There's not so much conflict about what to do. Without the pull of summer sunshine, the choices are a little more limited, so it's easier to just sit around, read, eat.
• I like winter cooking - making soups, breads, hot chocolate.
• The shorter days means it's a lot easier to get everyone to bed, maybe even with time enough for a movie after.
• We light more candles, have fires, wear slippers, drink tea, cuddle up in blankets.
• The weather pulls us together. We stay closer to each other. Maybe even talk a little more. Read more. Play games. Do puzzles.
• I love winter outdoor activity - skiing, hiking, sledding, ice skating. But honestly, I don't get my hopes up too much. For one, I have to gear myself up for the winter layers on the kids. And often in the divide and conquer parenting, I get the young ones, i.e. those who aren't quite up for serious winter activity.
• Finally, I get to imagine that I'll actually finish, ok begin, all the sedentary projects I think about doing all the time.

All that said, today we resumed a cold weather ritual that I love: family art time. The girls both focused on color and hearts. Will worked in his art journal, which is filled with black and white sketches and designs. I cut vegetables for soup (that's art, right?) and drew things I hope to sew some day. And Jeff nursed his soccer injury and helped June. John slept, thus family art time.

I know that I'll long for summer days, starting easily in January. But for now, I am anticipating the old pleasures that the new season brings.