First Day of School

Who’s more scared? Parents or kids? At a new school for the third time in my child’s life I think it might be a tie. Mom-ita and I drove M-ito to his first day of school last week and I took two days off to be there for the whole first day and for the one hour intro to school the day before. The commute was fine, not to much traffic, but lots of nervousness in the back seat and the front.

Mom-ita cried and I found tears coming to my eyes also as we gave him a hug before he was lead off to his classroom. M-ito’s first day was well planned out by the school he’s going to. They welcomed new students by name, with a handshake and gift from an upper classperson, in a morning assembly that all parents were invited to. We ate lunch with our kids then took off and did some food shopping while we waited. It was something to do. It was a day of waiting and of reflecting and shopping was a nice concrete something to do. We had about four hours to wait – on and off during – that first day in between meeting his teacher, seeing his classroom, being told by school administrative staff and the headmaster that “everything will be okay,” over and over again. Sure – easy for them to say.

I was surprised at how strongly I felt about sending him to school. This was truly the summer of transition from one school to another, from one set of friends to another, and for us as parents from one set of parents whose kids M-ito knows, to another. We are in the midst of meeting all these new parents, just as M-ito is in the midst of meeting all these new kids. Each of us is having to manage new relationships like crazy. I have to put my hand and my “self” out a lot. I have to say hello and introduce myself, try to remember which kids are which and which go with which parents. Mom-ita has been doing it all summer and I’m still catching up. Now I’m putting faces to names I’ve heard and trying assign kids to them.

What has caught me a little more by surprise than these difficulties is how watching my son go to school has reminded me of my own going to school when I was his age. It has brought up deep feelings of loss and sadness for what was. I changed schools and homes when I was going into fourth grade, M-ito is changing schools in 2nd. I remember leaving people behind and meeting new kids, best friends-to-be, none of which I’m still in touch with or becuase they have died long ago. I remember getting a new father and house to live in. I can feel this viscerally, in the tingling in my fingers as I type away. What a mix. Seeing this kind of history spread out in front of my son overwhelms me. But it’s my past not his.

At lunch after the assembly my son came over to me, so that Mom-ita wouldn’t be able to hear, and said, “I want to go home.”

I looked at him with my heart breaking. “Can you last for a few more hours?” I asked him, looking deeply into those brown eyes of his.

“How many hours is that?” he asked.

“Two.”

Then he nodded and hugged me. I didn’t tell Mom-ita about this until later.

When we came back to pick him up at three o’clock he was happy and seemed fine. He’d had science last period and he loves science and so his whole experience was framed by what he did there. His teacher had told them to pick a kind of scientist they would like to be – M-ito said paleontologist, of course – and to draw a picture of one on the front cover of their science notebook.

From the back seat of the car M-ito said, “I tried to be small in the class, but they wouldn’t let me be.” Mom-ita smiled while I drove. In his last school M-ito could “be small” and not noticed – not get attention – if he was quiet and followed the rules. He could “dissapear” if he wanted to – which I think he did a lot. In this school they introduced the kids to each other, asked them to play games with each other in recess (stopping cliques from arising – or at least attempting to) and seemed to try and notice what kids were doing and not doing. Small classes, good teachers. So far so good. But it meant that M-ito had to be more social than he was used to being. He is a shy kid who takes time to warm up. He must have been exhausted from all that kind of work. I know I was. I said hello and shook many hands in the parent meetings, at the coffee shop where I saw more of the same parents hanging out – just like us – and when we picked M-ito up. I had to force myself. I learned new names and forget them all within a matter of moments. Still, it’s part of the job of a parent. At 47 I have to tell you it’s not easy to go out and make new friends. I don’t necessarily want to put in that kind of effort but it comes with the territory. I guess I like to “be small” too.

After not talking about school for a few hours – even though we pestered M-ito left and right about what he did, at dinner time he finally gave us the whole run-down.

His second day I went to work with a knot in my stomach.

It’s his third day today, this beautiful Monday morning, and his first whole week of school. I’m doing my deep breathing exercises, trying to stay present, and not slip into the past. Mom-ita and M-ito left 45 minutes ago. I’m heading out too. I find I have to remind myself, this is his school experience, not mine. And this is my parenting experience, not his. The idea, I think, is to try to keep things that way. The challenge is in making it so.

The Fork

I don’t remember how it started but now it’s a dinner time ritual.

Dinner is ready and M-ito is getting the silverware. I can see him out of the corner of my eye. He’s smiling impishly. He places one of his baby forks – his Dora the Explorer –  beneath Mom-ita’s napkin and a regular fork on top of mine and his. We all sit down to eat and M-ito starts to tell a tale of Pokemon. Mom-ita takes a drink of her water.

“Can you pick up that pencil from under the table?” Mom-ita asks M-ito.

M-ito shrugs, not stopping his storytelling for a moment, then looks under the table for the pencil. Mom-ita quickly takes the baby fork from under her napkin and places it under M-ito’s, switching his into her hand. She takes a bite out of her pasta as M-ito rises up from beneath the table.

“There’s no pencil,” he says, ending his Pokemon story.

“Try your pasta,” she says.

He reaches for his fork and finds the Dora the Explorer fork instead. A look of surprise comes over his face and then he smiles. “Hey!” he says. “Mom-ita!” With a quick movement he switches Dora with the fork in Mom-ita’s hand.

I watch from the sidelines.

“There’s another pencil under the table,” Mom-ita says and M-ito almost, almost looks underneath the table for it. But only for a second. 

I reach across the table and Mom-ita switches Dora for my fork and I eat the rest of our dinner with it.

Sometimes you get the fork and sometimes you just have to ask for it.

Good Morning Good Morning

Mom-ita is working four days this week. As any good Dad-dito would do, I’m doing double duty, getting M-ito off to school in the morning and leaving early from work to pick him up when school/afterschool is over. I’m pretty tired.

Usually Mom-ita and I take M-ito to school (drive) together and I walk from his school to the subway. The morning tasks with M-ito are divided up between us – Mom-ita makes our son his lunch (heat the thermos with hot water, heat the hot meal, fill the lunchbox, put it by the front door) while I make our son and myself breakfast (Hot cereal for me and Cornflakes for him – Mom-ita has breakfast later with her friends). She has done both jobs many times by herself when I’m away traveling and is a pro. It is rare I have to do it by myself for more than a day or two in a row so I am an amateur. I’m on day four tomorrow. It makes me grateful for the school lunch (today) and for Mom-ita’s ability to multi-task.

I’m getting better, quicker. But my to do list on Monday was sketchier than my list today. 

• Do yoga practice
• Wake Mom-ita up to get to her work
• Get M-ito up (not an easy task)
• Get his clothes together and put them near him on the bed (in case he gets up)
• Make lunch for M-ito (heat the water for the thermos and put the food in the oven)
• Check on M-ito to see if he’s up yet
• Put M-ito’s food in the thermos and thermos in the lunch box
• Make breakfast for M-ito
• Check on M-ito to see if he’s up yet
• Make my own breakfast
• Check again on M-ito to see if he’s opened his eyes
• Plead with M-ito to wake up
• Bribe M-ito to wake up
• Remind M-ito to pee when he does wake up
• Eat breakfast together
• Attempt conversation
• Listen to Pokemon story
• Take shower while M-ito gets dressed nearby
• Get dressed with M-ito finishing getting dressed nearby
• Make sure lunch box is packed and by the front door
• Make sure backpack is packed and by the front door
• Turn inside out M-ito’s socks (the seams bother him)
• Get M-ito’s sneakers laces loose so he can put on his shoes quickly and easily
• Help M-ito get on his sneakers anyway (hold laces with finger while he ties bunny ears)
• Get on my own shoes and jacket
• Help M-ito get on his sweater and jacket
• Tell M-ito he has to wear a hat (it’s cold out)
• Tell M-ito he has to pick a hat (too many choices)
• Adjust the hat he’s chosen (he chooses my favorite hat which I was going to wear so I have to choose another one for myself)
• Hand him his backpack and then help with the arm through the strap (otherwise I’ll watch him going around and around trying to get his arm through the second strap)
• Watch as M-ito goes back to the table for a Pokemon action figure to bring with him
• Watch as M-ito goes back to the table for a Pokemon card from one of his new decks to bring with him
• Remember wistfully that it used to be a Lego Star Wars figure that he took with him
• Go back to the living room for my keys, my wallet, my money, my watch
• Look each other in the eyes and leave together
• Walk to school, holding hands most of the way

Om Nama Shivaya. I’m going to do it again in the morning.

In case it sounds too idylic, we had a huge fight this morning – day three – because he wouldn’t get up and we were half an hour late for school. My tactic was to let him be late and I simmered. Maybe it was better than blowing up. Mom-ita and I fought a little instead on her way out. I said to her, “let me handle it.” I was probably wrong in my approach. As we were on our way out the door M-ito apologized to me. I told him he had to get up in the morning to get to school. Then I added when he was late, I was late to work. Then I added Mom-ita and I fought because he was late this morning (ie: it was his fault). Guilt is my speciality. Then I called him from work a couple of hours later (a phone that goes right into his classroom) and checked to see if he was all right – feeling very very guilty for guilting him on the way to school with words that will probably scar him for life. He sounded fine on the phone as if it had all passed him by a long time ago. I’m glad he’s resilient.

When I picked him up from afterschool ballet, he sat on my lap on the couch outside the classroom for fifteen minutes. We watched all the other kids (all three of them) leave the class with the teacher. I gave him a big hug and kiss. We talked a little while, then, he looked at me and said, “I’m ready to go.” I helped him get changed. I carried his bag (too heavy – it was) and his extra jacket (too hot outside – and it was) and watched as he ran back and forth playing with two friends that we walked a few blocks home with. 

Mom-ita and both joked with M-ito this evening that we would wake him up this morning singing, “Good morning, good morning” from Singing in the Rain. He laughed and laughed. The giggle that launched a thousand ships.

Dad-dito’s B-day

I fenced this morning at HB studio, where I used to help teach two stage fencing classes - frequently (weekly) – and which I now teach (since M-ito was born) infrequently – ie: when I can grab a long lunch from my job and not have to pick M-ito up from school on that day. I fenced three hours – what seems like, and is, a true luxury. I’m achy and sore from swinging a sword and teaching and lunging first with rapier then smallsword. I have a big smile on my face. I love this kind of thing.

Afterwards I came back to Jackson heights and I picked up M-ito and Mom-ita and took him to his last swimming class of the season. He takes individual lessons at Saf-T-Swim on Long Island – where he has truly learned to swim incredibly well. Mom-ita found that it cost almost as much for half hour individual lessons in Westbury (40 minute drive from home) as it was to take a group class here in our neighborhood. Individual lessons it has been and it has paid off very well with a confident swimmer and a boy who loves to be in the water. I watched him laugh and joke with his instructor, then swim the crawl, the back stroke, the elementary back stroke, the breast stroke, dive, and do all kinds of search and recover underwater tricks. 

We ate dinner at a small Italian Restaurant in Mineola on the less formal pizza side of the establishment. M-ito explaining to me with a diagram where I need to sit tomorrow night at the Shiros in Atlas Park (a Japanese restaurant where they cook at your table) so that I don’t get burned by the cooking oil – which happened to him when he was there last and is also the reason he won’t return. So he won’t be coming with us as it’s date night for Dad-dito and Mom-ita – the first one we’ve had in almost six months.

Sitting in our kitchen, M-ito and I shared a blondie we bought from the Ambrosia bakery folks at their table at the Food Coop – Farm Spot, and laughed as he farted and I made silly noises to complement him. Mom-ita rolled her eyes at us while she finished the dishes. No dishes today for the birthday boy.

I put M-ito to bed, reading him the story of Stick Burr (and replacing Butt with Burr whenever I could – just to make M-ito laugh and giggle, then correct me) a comic book format favorite. We fell asleep together.

Mom-ita woke me up an hour later so I could do my prepare for yoga class in the morning. Writing this blog entry caps off, what for me, has been just about a perfect day.

First Tooth

We were sitting in Park Slope on the corner of 9th Street and 7th Avenue, eating Pizza. Mom-ita had an appointment and M-ito and I were going to Prospect Park to play ball with our new baseball mitts. M-ito turned towards us with a hesitant smile on his face after spitting something into his hand. “My tooth came out!”

Mom-ita started crying and I put on a happy face and gave my son a high five, low five, and some paw (reference: Mel Brooks Spaceballs). Inside my heart broke with both happiness at his growing up and leaving this symbol of his childhood behind, and sadness for his growing up. I want him to always be the same and I want him to grow into the wonderful man I know he will be – both at the same time. It reminds me of my own mortality too and makes me watch over my shoulder for the dance of my own death. All of this over the wonderful moment of a first tooth falling out. These more painful thoughts fled quickly.  There was a little blood, some trepidation, then a big smile on M-ito’s face, followed by our hugs. I took pictures and his gap-toothed smile peers back at me.

“This one will go in the yearbook,” I say.

I don’t remember losing my first tooth. But my family memories from that time are not very happy.

I hope the moment stays with him as joyous. I know the five dollars we put under his pillow later that night – from the “tooth fairy” – will probably not.

He said he thought the “tooth fairy” would leave him ten dollars. I told him there was a recession so five was all he’d get. I think the fact that he has finally caught up to his friend’s who have all lost one or more baby teeth already is probably compensation enough.

“What about the tooth fairy?” he asks Mom-ita. “How does she get in our bedroom? Where does she come from?” I didn’t hear her answer but I imagine she’s giving an illusive answer. If our son believes in a tooth fairy we’re not going to stop him. Losing a tooth is enough to give up in one day.

Parenting Lessons

There’s a lot we can learn from Gerbils as parents:

• When a toddler goes exploring too far from home simply track her down, pick her up in your mouth, and carry her back to the nest.
• If you take the padding away from an exit tube your children, even with their eyes closed, will sense the drop, turn around and go back to their nest.
• Some children are daredevils and take the drop anyway. These you have to chase down, pick up in your mouth, and carry back home.
• If all else fails simply block the entrance/exit to the nest with your body and don’t let any of your nine children leave.
• Take turns watching the kids so each parent gets a break.
• Sleep together in a family bed – it’s warmer that way but you can wake up with a paw in your face.
• Breastfeed while you sleep.
• Eat a lot of sunflower seeds.

Who’s in Charge?

It’s 6pm. I’m home with M-ito, it’s Saturday evening. Mom-ita is out and won’t be back until after 8pm. M-ito has to eat, take a bath, read books and go to bed – all within an hour. He’s tired from two nights in a row of only 8 hours sleep – once from a late night out and once from being sick. He needs at least 10 hours sleep each night and he’s subsequently … cranky. He asks me if he can watch one of his movies for a little while.

I say no. “We don’t have the time.”

M-ito starts crying and yells at me. “Then I don’t want to talk to you about this ever again.!” He goes into the other room. I’m left staring at his corn dog and orange (I know, I know, but at least the orange isn’t fried.). 

Mom-ita calls and I talk to her for a minute. M-ito comes into the dining area – the tears gone – and asks to speak to her.

I say, “Sure,” and hand him the phone. I wait a moment and watch.

M-ito looks at me and says, “I don’t want you hear this.” Then he goes into the other room with the phone. About a minute later he comes back with the phone and hands it to me.

“What did you tell him?” I ask Mom-ita.

She’s laughing. “I told him if there was time and you said it’s okay, he could watch a little of his show.” The phone is back in its cradle and I’m left with my son sitting down a few feet from me at the table. He starts eating his corn dog with a big smile on his face.

I put my serious face on. “It’s not okay if you ask Mom-ita to do something after I said you can’t do it.” I try not to smile.

“I know,” he says.

“They why did you ask Mom-ita if you could watch your show after I said there wasn’t enough time?”

“Well,” he begins, way too composed, “Mom-ita is in charge of the house… so I thought she might say something different.” 

I laugh. “Yes, she is in charge of the house.”

“I know.”

“I know, you know. But who’s in charge of the house when Mom-ita is not here?”

“You are.”

“And when you don’t do what Mom-ita says you have to do when she’s not home, who gets in trouble?”

M-ito is laughing now. “You.”

“And if I get in trouble, who else gets in trouble?” He’s giggling too much to answer. I point at him. He’s gets to watch some of his TV show and I get a complaint-less bath. He’s in bed by 7:30pm and asleep by 7:45pm. Man, am I glad tomorrow is Sunday. I hope he sleeps late. Okay, what am I saying? I hope he sleeps until 7am. Well, I can hope. 

The Life of a Chicken

We were at Whole Foods in Manhattan shopping, looking at the meat section, poultry in particular. M-ito looked down at the remains of a whole chicken, de-feathered, naked, small. I picked it up and M-ito took it from me. He looked closer at it.

“That chicken’s life, is over,” he said.

Mom-ita and I both laughed.

“It sure is,” I said. It sure is. It’s amazing to me how differently M-ito sees the world. I take these things for granted. I see a food product. He sees a live animal that has passed into the spirit world.

M-ito looked at us both, not understanding, then just went on looking at the life, and death, around us.

The 6-Year Old Grapevine

Everybody’s teeth are falling out. They are getting loose, wiggling, getting played with by tongues and fingers, and when all else fails, they are getting plucked. M-ito’s are not wiggling yet – though he swears they are.

“See Mom-ita? Look Dad-dito.” Then he shows us by moving it back and forth with his finger – only they’re not really moving. Maybe he feels like they are. I know he’s disappointed they are not because a few of his friend’s teeth are. Otherwise it wouldn’t be a big deal. He’s in such a rush to grow up. Mom-ita and I tell him we see how loose his teeth are and he smiles. 

Yesterday he said, “Can I have carrots and an apple?”

Mom-ita said, “Sure.”

I looked at her. “Why’s he eating carrots and an apple? He doesn’t like them. He won’t eat them.”

“Oh, he’ll eat them,” Mom-ita said.

“I don’t get it.”

Mom-ita leaned close to me. “He’s been talking to his friends and they told him if he eats apples and carrots his teeth will come out.” 

“I wish he wasn’t in such a rush.”

“Me too,” Mom-ita said with a sigh.

“Do we let him have ‘em?” I asked, knowing Mom-ita would already have made a decision on this and I was simply playing catch-up.

“Why not?” she said. “At least he’ll be eating something other than mac and cheese, pizza, or corn dogs.” 

I nodded then grimaced – remembering what it was like to have my teeth come out oh so long ago. Ouch – apples and carrots. 

Why is it …

Why is it M-ito can’t get up for school at 7am every weekday but come Saturday morning he’s up at 6am?Why is it M-ito says, “Just one more minute,” on these very same weekdays when I try to get him up, and “Dad-dito, Mom-ita, wake up!” on Saturday mornings? Why is it M-ito never wants to take a bath but once he’s in the bathtub he doesn’t want to come out?Why is it M-ito loves a food (kiwis, strawberries, oatmeal, eggs) only until it’s in front of him – then he hates it. Why is it M-ito never fights with other kids at school and always does what his teachers say – but at home we fight over brushing teeth, taking a bath, going to bed, eating dinner, putting on socks, putting on a hat, getting shoes on, saying goodbye, saying hello, reading books, peeing, and washing hands before meals?