Portraits of sisterly competition

When it comes to parenting two children, I really have no idea what I'm doing. Sometimes there is a lot of yelling and bickering and pushing over such life-threatening matters as one sister looking at the other sister when she didn't want to be looked at. Other times these two work collaboratively to develop such new and exciting games as "Car tag" or my personal favourite, "How many times can I get my little sister to say the word Poop." Some days I just sit back and watch the show.

Yesterday I was home with Shira while Matt was at work and Alyce at school. Since I've stopped breastfeeding my days at home with Shira have been easier. Over the last few months so much of my time was spent negotiating with Shira over when, where, and for how long she could nurse. She would turn to me whenever she was faced with a particularly tough challenge or disappointment, or if she was hurt, diving into me for some help feeling back to normal. Breastfeeding gave the both of us resources to deal with our ups and downs, mine included. Now Shira is ready to deal with such challenges on her own, and though she's never very far from me, I've been able to stay in the background a little bit more and watch as she creates a world on her own, and even more fun, a world with her sister.

Beginning around eleven yesterday Shira began to set a Shabbat table using their small table in the playroom. She had been poking around the dining room while I was trying to hang some photos on the wall (only seven months after moving in!) and I was trying to distract her from my hammer with the shiny kiddush cup and candles we use for Shabbat dinner. Seeing how excited she was to play Shabbat, I offered her a small table cloth and the flowers from our dining room table. Four hours later she had crafted one of the most elaborate, beautifully designed, unicorn and pony festooned table that was fit for the finest of Shabbat celebrations. She'd even settled some of her best friends, two very attentive Backyardigans, in for a fine evening of singing and eating. As I reluctantly pulled her away from her project to pick-up Alyce from school, her biggest concern was, as you probably guessed, that Alyce would come home and destroy all her efforts. Or maybe just look at it the wrong way.

 

That didn't happen. I had prepared Alyce for Shira's table as we walked home together from school. I told her that Shira was feeling very proud of her work and was concerned that other people might touch it. Alyce and I assured Shira that no one would destroy her table or even ask to touch anything. I naturally prepared myself from some big, big arguments once we got home, but instead I sat back and watched as Alyce, inspired by Shira's own creativity, began to create her own table in the living room. Ladies and gentlemen, I present you with Competitive Shabbat Table Setting.

My only role in this was to dispense the necessary table clothes, a few special cups, and to spell the names for the place cards Alyce designed. The girls collected pine cones and dead leaves outside to adorn their tables, in addition to the traditional tying on of birthday balloons from a weekend party we attended. Alyce and Shira energetically ran through the house for almost an hour beautifying their tables for Shabbat (which I should mention doesn't arrive until Friday night). 

I did this sort of thing with my friends growing up, but I'm feeling gifted lately as I watch more and more impromptu sibling adventures. It isn't always this collegial, and even this rather calm afternoon celebration including one vigorous push from Shira which caused Alyce to land bottom first into a box of blocks. (Shira is getting very good at apologizing and Alyce is getting better and better at forgiving every day.) But I feel as though they are breaking me in, sometimes gently, other times not so much, toughening up my parenting skin as the mother of siblings. My university roommates, both siblings, used to tease me relentlessly that I was too soft and couldn't take the noise, beatings, and intensity that comes from having been tortured annoyed loved by brothers and sisters. They thought I was soft.

Do you think I'm soft? Maybe don't answer that.

When did this Monday become a Tuesday? And an invitation to dinner.

Last week was a really good one, for more reasons than I can list. Alyce made me her usual 2397 drawings (do you like my new bookmark?), I attended my first crazy intense parent council meeting at her new school, and waited (and am still waiting) with a good friend as she enters the final week(s) of her pregnancy. I'm extra excited because I have a special invitation to attend her birth as her doula. We ate mac and cheese and cookies, because isn't that what one does in preparation for labour? That's what I do, anyway, and I will encourage you to, as well. I might tell you that preparing for my friend's birth is also the reason behind all the muffins I've been baking, but that would be stretching the truth a bit, because we all know that I'll use any and all excuses to make muffins. This week I made these apple muffins from Smitten Kitchen (I grated the apples instead of dicing on account of not wanting to offend Alyce's fine sensibilities) and these lemon millet muffins from 101 Cookbooks (you can leave out the lemon and add chocolate chips if you like, which I often do, but the lemon is almost as delicious). Both were hits and both are gone.

 
My weeks are always filled with so much and trying to balance it all can be a bit overwhelming. The days have been so busy that I started this post eagerly on a Monday morning and am finishing it now on a Tuesday close to lunch. Where did yesterday go? Can I tell you a quick story that might let you in on the status of a mind pulled in a few one hundred different directions? I drove the girls across town yesterday for Alyce's medical appointment, and then rushed them back home to spend the afternoon with a friend so that I could drive all the way back across town for my own appointment . As I stood in front of the nurse at the front desk, panting and not a little bit sweaty from all the rushing, she informed me, kindly, that my appointment was for the 22nd of November. Yesterday was the 22nd of October. Not the same month, it turns out. I handled the disappointment quite well and made the most of the rest of my afternoon. While an overwhelmed mind sometimes leads to crying at the first sign of a struggle, it can also jump to the next task without too much concern. Appointment doesn't exist? No matter, I can do those other twelve things I need to finish today.

What I'm trying to tell you is that I'm busy but happy. All the projects I'm finally getting to are helping me to feel more and more settled. I've mentioned a few times here that adjusting to living in Toronto again hasn't always been easy. I am grateful to be back, but I'm learning that nothing is simple. It isn't as easy as dropping back into a former life. We have new habits, new routines, new obligations, new children. Our friends, at least the ones who are still here, have welcomed us back, but they have busy lives, too. Something that I've been giving a lot of thought to since returning to Toronto is how difficult it can be to maintain community as we grow older. My entire life has been marked by relationships with exceptional friends and I'm learning that growing older means more and more work to maintain these friendships. It isn't for lack of caring or love that we see our friends less, but the way in which our own families drive our busy days, weeks, and months. Most of us have partners and families and careers and projects and it's a wonder that we ever just find the time to sit together, with friends, to enjoy it all happening. But I think we should fight the good fight against this tendency to collapse into our own families. I think we should all take little steps to stay connected with the people we are lucky enough to have in our lives. And maybe we should meet a few more.

We celebrate Shabbat every week beginning Friday night. Shabbat means different things to different people, but one of my most favourite things in the world is knowing that every Friday night, no matter what is going on in the rest of our chaos, Matt and I have a chance to sit down for a dinner, some wine, and hopefully some excellent company. As the day comes to a close at the end of week I can feel my entire body calming down, in spite of my rushing around the kitchen preparing dinner. Sometimes we include the girls in a big dinner; other times Alyce and Shira help me light the candles but Matt and I save dinner for later in the (quieter) evening. Some of my favourite nights are those when friends join us for dinner. And so here comes my challenge: why aren't we sharing meals friends more often? Why aren't we inviting new friends to our tables? I am going to invite friends (both old and new) to our table for dinner or lunch three weekends out of four. I can't promise they'll say yes, but I am going to send out my invitations nonetheless. I hope we can make it an offer they won't refuse. Busy weeks be damned.

I'm looking forward to dinner already.

Oh, Weekend

Is it a good Monday so far? I was able to sneak out of the house early this morning to get some work done, so it's a Monday winner in my books. I think I will also declare that my weekend was a great one. Friday night I made dinner for everyone in our house, and we all relaxed with some wine and a terrible movie. (Sorry, Drive, but I just didn't enjoy the hours-long pauses and the nightmare-inducing violence. I wanted to like you, I really did.) It was such a nice night with my family, I didn't even mind.

Saturday we went to our old synagogue, one filled with many wonderful memories. It where I began my conversion five years ago and the community into which we welcomed and named Alyce. I have missed this place for years, and I'm very excited that we will be returning there once we move back to Toronto this summer. We were warmly welcomed back this weekend by a few familiar faces and I am grateful for their kindnesses. (When I attended my first Shabbat service there I was dating my new Jewish boyfriend and now I'm the mother of two Jewish children. Life, holy cow.) Alyce, shy at first, played with some new friends, and Shira thoroughly scared all the other children away. She was, ahem, not into sharing. 

Shira needs some friends who aren't her sister. Let's just leave it at that.  And don't worry: she managed to nurse at least three times while we were there.

The rest of our weekend was filled with little things that brought a smile to my face: colouring, a birthday party, cleaning out the closets (I love closet cleaning), devouring my mum's pasta sauce, which I just ate again for lunch. Just sauce. No pasta. Do you know what else I did? I read an entire book. Cover to cover. It was light, hilarious, and I think you might like it, too. Around our house things are feeling lighter for the first time in months. Matt is excited to begin his new position at U of T later this summer and is starting another temp job this week (five weeks this time). I am making some new plans and getting just a little bit excited about them (more to come on those plans a little later).

And did I mention it's spring? Rebirth is in the air, don't you think? Have an amazing week. Maybe you can let me know what you're up to. I a bit of a nosy parker that way.

Tu B'Shevat

Today is Tu B'Shevat, a relatively minor Jewish holiday, but a holiday nonetheless. Alyce and I rarely pass by the opportunity to make a craft, so in our house we love these days. Tu B'Shevat is special to me for non-craft reasons, too, because it was the first Jewish holiday I celebrated once I had begun my conversion to Judaism. In January 2006, after a few meetings with our rabbi, Matt and I signed up for a year long course on Judaism. It was a requirement for conversion and needed to be done before I could go before the beit din, or Jewish court, and formally convert. Tu B'Shevat is one of four Jewish New Year's, and this particular new year's celebration is for the trees! Technically this is a day to mark the age of trees for tithing purposes (and is introduced in the Talmud), but now those who celebrate Tu B'Shevat use the day as a chance to give thanks for the fruit and nuts that grow on trees (especially those that grow in Israel). It has also been used as a springboard to discuss contemporary ecological issues, so for a minor holiday, there is still a lot to work with!

We used the coming of Tu B'Shevat to spend some time learning about trees, taking walks in the woods (we have another one scheduled for after school with Alyce), and, of course, making things. The tree in the first photo above is my childhood tree located around the edge of the old cemetery behind my house. My friend and I each had our own tree, mine named Fred, hers named Harry, and we spent hours in them. Hours. I still visit it, and sometimes I even find a tree fairy poking around. Can you spot her? She's the one that resembles a puffy blue marshmallow with rosy cheeks.

Alyce and I made a tree painting that we covered in pictures of fruit that we drew. I painted a large tree trunk and then she went to town with the leaves. While we were busy tree-making, Shira painted her own hands blue. Before dinner last night Alyce and I hung the painting on the front door, waiting for Matt to come home and find a surprise. Just for the record, internet, the man walked up to the house, opened the door with the enormous blue poster board painted with an enormous tree, and didn't notice it at all. Alyce and I sent him right back outside to take proper notice, Which he did, and he loved it, of course. Alyce declared this morning that it is never coming down, so he'll have many opportunities to enjoy it.

For a few more tree-inspired crafts, check here.

For those of you celebrating, I hope it it's a lovely Tu B'Shevat where you live!

She wept.

My brave, sensitive, inquisitive, little (big) girl wept yesterday. We were enjoying a peanut butter sandwich snack while Shira napped, and we got talking about her name, and how we chose it. Here is how things got started:

Alyce: Mama, why did you name me Alyce?
Me: We named you after your great-grandmother, who is one of my favourite people in the entire world. Her name is Mary Alyce, and your name is Alyce Mary.
Alyce: Why did you name her Mary Alyce?
Me: I didn't name her. Her mama named her.
Alyce: Where is her mama?

Have you already figured out where this is going?

Me: (Instantly panicking. Unprepared. Hoping a giant Disney princess waltzes into the room on a unicorn.) Her mama isn't with us anymore. She died a long time ago.
Alyce: Why did she die?
Me: She got very, very, very old and her body stopped working. That's what happens when a person gets very, very, very old.
Alyce: (Pauses.) Am I going to die when I get very old?
Me: (Please kill me.) Everyone will die one day. But that won't happen for a very long time.
Alyce: (Instantly weeping.) But then I won't be with you!

Her little face crumbled into pieces. She jumped into my arms and wept. Then I started crying. Then she wept some more. I spent those minutes with my daughter as she came to realize a terrible truth. For the first time her curious mind brought her to a place where I couldn't protect her. I can't lie to her, not about this. I think it's my job to shelter her from many things in the world (slutty tween clothes) and I will stand guard against anyone who wants to hurt her (bullies), but the knowledge that people grow old and die, this I can't stop. This kind of truth is hard, but she deserves it.

She cried for awhile in my arms before she calmed down enough to ask me a few more questions.  When I die will I be able to stand up again? Will I be able to talk to you? I explained to her that there was something inside her that would never die. Sometimes we read a traditional Jewish story about how an angel picked out her soul down from the Treasury of Souls and brought it down to grow inside me, along with the seeds from me and her Papa. It's a magical story, one she has always loved. So I tried to talk to her about how she still has that soul, and that I have one, too. And Papa and Shira. I explained, badly, that our souls would stay together forever. She seemed to like that answer, and we went back to our snack, just like that.

At least she probably won't ask me any other difficult questions.

What? Oh, crap.