Tag Archives: children

Last Day (and Last Supper)

Posted on by
2

You would think that I had enough self-respect not to make a reference to the Last Supper.  But I don’t.

Before I start on today’s adventures, I must mention that during the visit to the Jewish Ghetto, we stopped at the Piazza del 13th (?) del Ottobre. (Sorry, IFOB, that I butchered the name of the plaza.)  It is the place where the Nazis rounded up the Jews and took them to Auschwitz on October 13th (?), 1943.  We were standing in the piazza and, as if on cue, a police car passes nearby, blaring Anne Frank noise (eeeeee-awwwwwww eeeeee-awwwwwww).  It is the sound that makes every Jew shutter.  The ambulances have a different noise, I noticed (eeeee-eeeee  eeeee-eeeee).  Now I have completed the tale of devastation and triumph of world Jewry.  Phew.

Today, our only aim was to shop.  Shop for things that are made here in Rome and not in Milan or elsewhere.  And of course look in the churches and walk in the piazzas along the way.  That is one thing about Rome, a church on every corner and lovely piazzas.  There is even an Episcopal Church that had Irish dancers and a bagpipe outside, trying to get worshippers to come inside.  Now that is a tough sell in the seat of Roman Catholicism.

So not a lot of things made in Rome.  We had to search out artsy areas, a hard thing for foreigners because it is so easy to get lost in Rome.  And, I get bored of shopping in less than an hour.  POB (partner of blogger) wanted to shop and so TLP (our son, the little prince) and I had to schlep along.  Mind-numbing and exhausting.  Some things but nothing really.  Milan would be the city for shopping.

So, nothing really absurd or crazy happened today.  We found some groovy areas that we would love to visit next time.

TLP had a great time in spite of his pre-trip whinings.  POB relaxed by mid-week despite her stress about traveling.  I got stressed as the week went on, because I was almost totally out of touch with everything in the US.  I did check in with the office daily and my secretary and colleague texted me as necessary.  I heard snippets of news — Dow tumbled on oil supply fears and not because of a massacre in Tripoli, Berlusconi’s Bill Clinton problems, Obama’s not defending DOMA anymore.  Other than the massacre, I really don’t care.  Monday I will care.

I think this means I actually had a vacation.  A real vacation.  But wait, the journey home is tomorrow.  So, I shouldn’t jinx it.

Share

More on Rome

Posted on by
Reply

Last night, we had gelato and coffee in the bar of the hotel after dinner out.  I was talking with two retired travel agents from Detroit, Michigan.  It must be a good business because everyone I have ever met has wanted to get out of Detroit.  These older women were on a two-week tour of Rome and the surrounding areas.  Not bad.

Our conversation continued after POB (partner of blogger) and our son, TLP (fka SOPOBAB, and nka the little prince), went upstairs.  They were curious about how TLP was dealing with the violence depicted in the murals and other art.  The Renaissance Masters loved blood and gore.  As I mentioned in my last entry, kids figure it out, so I said that I think he’d be ok but it was a good thing to keep in mind.

I watched as TLP looked at the greatest collections of Renaissance and Roman art over the course of hours at museums and galleries.  He really didn’t focus on the blood and gore but he did like all the naked ladies.  He was disappointed that there was not full-frontal nudity and that the females were not prettier and more voluptuous.  So, my son reduced 2000 years of art into: “the girls look too much like boys”.  I responded that, for a long time, it was not ok for females to be artist’s models and, so, young boys were the substitute models.  TLP thought that was silly.

Out of the mouth of babes. . . .

Share

Roma, the next day

Posted on by
Reply

My Italian friend (IFOB) reads my blog and thought I was being harsh on Italians in my prior blog entry.  Actually I was being harsh on Americans of Italian descent and self-satisfied religious people.  But I didn’t intend to be offensive to IFOB or others.

Today, Villa Borghese.  It is like Central Park, grander because it was formerly an estate of the Borghese family.  We couldn’t get tickets to the museum so we went with our son to the Zoo. We spent hours at the zoo and in the park.  Our son can identify animals to an excruciating detail, so when we go to the zoo, he says things like, “oh, look, an Egyptian diamond eyed swan!” or “see, a blue footed booby!”.  There is a kind of bird called a “tit”.  So, when he started saying, look at the beautiful [insert ornithological name] tit!” I had to muzzle him.  He didn’t quite get why I sternly told him not to yell names of birds, since most are not necessarily offensive sounding to a female passerby who might think he is remarking about her cleavage.  But I didn’t necessarily want to introduce a crass slang for breast if he didn’t already know it.  Ah, the joys of parenthood.

Walking in Rome is not quite the death challenge of being on the floor of the Colosseum in the old days, when at least one death was assured, but it is harrowing even to a New Yorker.  Even if you think you are walking on a pedestrian path, a Smart car will try to mow you down.  Mopeds and motorcycles are everywhere and will try to park on your feet if you are standing at a curb, waiting to cross.  People, cars, mopeds all use the same thoroughfares in a perpetual dance that is fluid and dangerous.  Traffic lights and rules are merely suggestions.

So, I was relieved to go to Ancient Rome sites via bus.  Let someone else do the drive and just sit in your seat oblivious to the potential mayhem in the streets.  We went to the Colosseum and the Fora.  Even our son said, “this is spectacular!”  It was hard to explain to him that people and animals were killed for sport, since that is a scary concept.  He was happy that it was long ago and not done today.  Sometimes we as parents over-think the issues and kids figure out their way to get comfortable with the facts on the ground.

The tour was arranged by 206 Tours.  It was awesome.

After so many hours walking and walking, we all collapsed. The hotel was in the middle of everything and truly old world Rome with updated amenities.  Great choice for people who don’t want to lounge about and really want an active visits.  Also arranged by 206 Tours.

Partner of blogger (POB) rallied us for dinner out.  Actually, she dragged us kicking and screaming because we were sooooo happy just lying around. Sometimes, vacation should not involve self-propulsion.  A little entropy should be allowed.

Our son’s gelato cravings is reaching heroin proportions.  Rehab once we get back to NYC.  For now, we are on a gelato spree.

Share

Elements of Life

Posted on by
Reply

POB (partner of blogger) and SOPOBAB (son of POB and blogger) went to the Natural History Museum today, while I stayed home, still on the “injured list” nursing my still aching back and trying not to feel useless and a slacker (it is ok to be a slacker when you’re not sick or hurt).

They returned in the mid-afternoon and SOPOBAB was so excited.  Not only did POB tell him that we got him the Clone Wars movie, so he would have something special to do while POB and I entertained some out-of-town guests tonight, but he got a new place mat of the Periodic Table in all these cool colors with all these things that were new to him.  “E-Mom, I never even HEARD of some of these things!!”

So we looked at the Periodic Table (click on it) together.

Apparently, when POB and SOPOBAB were purchasing it, SOPOBAB asked about hydrogen and helium, the first two elements, and why they were listed.  POB said that the table represented things that are not made of anything else, like a prime number.  And these were the basic building blocks of everything.  And, that two hydrogen molecules together with an oxygen molecule make water.  And that sodium chloride together make salt.

SOPOBAB got excited. Where are the french fries on the chart?

One person’s element of life is another person’s arterial occlusion.

Later, when we were going over the table together, he said, “E-Mom, I have bad news for you.  French fries are not an element, YET.”

Share

Calm in between the Storms

Posted on by
Reply

New York, along with most of the rest of the country is under a siege of extreme weather conditions. (Can you sa-a-ay, “global warming”?  I knew you could.)

I think it is part of the human condition to look at events like sappy metaphors.  (Proof positive: the popularity of Made-For-Lifetime-Channel movies.)

So, I think about enjoying the respites between the real snow storms as a reminder that we must enjoy the respites between life’s storms.  There are more and more challenges and less and less easy answers.  There is so much uncertainty about jobs, about global threats, about economic, social and emotional recovery in this nation.  As we get older, we understand that good health is a gift and not a right, and that our days are numbered whether they be measured in days or decades.

Now, I look for the small moments, not the big triumphs.   My son was so excited that I picked him up from school today (his babysitter flaked out a little).  He hugged me and introduced me around.  In the cab (of course, I am such a princess), he said, “E-Mom, this is maybe the best part of today.” I wanted to bottle that (even with the “maybe” qualifier). I wanted to record it to play it back when he is a teenager and he hates me.  No such luck (or quick thinking).  But what a beautiful moment in the middle of the calamity we call the “new normal”.

My son has already forgotten those words, but for me, for me, it made me feel as if all was right with the world.

Share

What life holds in store for us

Posted on by
1

I am usually snarky or maudlin or kumbaya in my posts.

But sometimes I am stopped in my tracks.

I have written before that my family is like a clan if you look at my parent’s generation of brothers (referred to as “The Five Brothers”) and my generation of cousins (we refer to ourselves as “The Cousins”). The children of The Cousins are less tied to the clan as a whole and while some are close to some of The Cousins (who are not uncles or aunts) and the last of the The Five Brothers, many are not.

The day before Thanksgiving, the son — whom I don’t know at all — of one of The Cousins was diagnosed with brain cancer.  He is 35 years old and has two little kids.  He had surgery and is undergoing treatment.

At 35, he probably knows that life likely doesn’t hold old age and grandchildren in store for him.  Probably life won’t allow him to see his children grow to tweenage, let alone adulthood.  I hope he beats the odds and life holds all those things for him, along with happiness and love and peace.

Some days you just have to stop, bow your head and be grateful for life, family and shelter — the basics.  And then, whether or not you believe in G-d, you have to pray for people like my cousin.

Share

My mother’s words . . .

Posted on by
Reply

“My poor baby, if I could have it for you, I would!”

My Mom would say this in a soothing voice whenever one of her children was sick, be it mind, spirit or body.  I say that now to my son whenever appropriate.  And I mean it, for all loving and nurturing, yet practical, goal oriented reasons.

My son had an upset stomach last night (no fever or other symptoms).  He started feeling sick at 9pm when he was already in bed, at around the same time the Jets were a lost cause and Janet2 was cleaning her kitchen floor (because the Patriots WERE OUT OF CONTENTION — these digressions are getting worse).

POB (partner of blogger) and I dutifully took turns in the night soothing him when he woke up and giving him Children’s Tums.  Because I was just recovering from a thrown-out back at around the same time our son got sick, POB did more turns initially.  Each time he woke up and I went in (and freaked him out by yowling in pain), I would rub his head and back and say Mom’s magic words that always comforted me.  He would eventually drift off for 45 minutes or so. And I would roll out of his bed and crawl to my room so as not to scream in pain and wake him.  Of course, that woke POB, so I probably did more harm than good despite all loving intentions.

3am rolls around and he is up and really, really feeling bad.  I go in, because I know POB has to get up in 2.5 hours and I can stretch my alarm until 8am if necessary.  He is really feeling bad and I say Mom’s magic words and, lo and behold, like a miracle swept in from the sea, he vomits all over me and then runs to the bathroom for the other end of the story, so to speak.

Nothing makes you feel more mom-like than having your child yawn in technicolor all over you.  I cleaned up and started to strip the bed and hose everything down.  (At this point, POB was up and ready to crank up the washer/dryer.)

Our son has a strong stomach for all that to have stayed in for six hours.

I couldn’t help thinking that if he were able to give it to me at 9pm, my system would have expelled everything in 5, maybe 10, minutes and we all would have been happier and all have gotten a good night’s sleep.  Instead, today, our wiped-out son stayed home, I was essentially in traction and POB had to be nursemaid to two babies at once.

Do you think Mom ever had the same thoughts about wanting to be sick instead of us, or am I just a diluted (and deluded) version of her?

Share

A Quiet Morning

Posted on by
Reply

I can’t wait until our son becomes a sleep-until-noon teenager.  Until then, as part of our Saturday ritual, he comes barreling in at the crack of 9am to watch cartoons.

POB (partner of blogger) gives him the paper to bring in, and she follows with coffee (and yes, I am spoiled and I am grateful every day).  Our son does remember to give me a kiss before he says “controls” with his hand held out expectantly, like a Grey’s Anatomy surgeon says “Metzenbaum scissors”.

Every other Saturday, POB and our son trek off to Hebrew School downtown and leave me to putter or go to the gym or read the paper with more leisure than usual.

As much as I love my family, I am reveling in the quiet.  I am focused on not letting the political mayhem, global suffering and warring intrude on these moments of personal calm.

I wish everyone, everywhere, could have a moment of calm and recalibration of priorities.  It won’t turn Ahmadinejad or other tyrant into a dove, but it might ratchet down the fervor of his followers. It might even act like a balm over the “Progressives” (on my side of the political spectrum) whose high-pitched whining is indistinguishable from their counterparts on the right.

Ok, maybe those people — the mean, the evil, the obstructionists, the liars and the screamers of every nation and political viewpoint — need a month-long medically-induced coma.   Then everyone else could spring into action:  air-lift food and medicine and doctors and teachers to areas in need.  And, we can show them that we achieved more for humanity while they were asleep than in all the years they were awake.

A month is not long enough.  Maybe the calm of this morning is sending my brain into “kumbaya” mode with psychedelic rhythms.

Still, everything good starts with a dream and ends with a “kumbaya”.

Share

Walkin’ in a Winter Wonderland

Posted on by
Reply

Today was the truest snow day ever.  18 inches of snow in New York City.  Stalled car and buses every where.  Blizzard-scale winds that made me believe in Mary Poppins.  Law firm offices closed.  Let me say that again.  LAW FIRM OFFICES CLOSED EVEN AS THEY TRY TO MAKE BUDGET FOR 2010.  Now, that, THAT, is saying something.  I live in the City and there was no way I was going to make it to the office except by walking, and the blizzard-scale winds would have taken me way off-course.  The Upper West Side of Manhattan is not even plowed 12 hours after the last snowflake fell (don’t they realize that we vote with our ballots and pocketbooks?  Has anyone noticed the UWS demographic has changed????)

POB (partner of blogger) was supposed to go east to the beach with our son (SOPOBAB) and his cousin, our nephew.  Oh, I think Mother Nature is a teeny tiny bit stronger than the sheer will of POB.  Although Mother Nature won, she was bruised and hospitalized.  Anyway, my beautiful prizefighter POB thought that we needed to go sledding.  I thought we needed to drug the boys (just kidding, for all the Child Protective Services personnel who read this).  How else do you keep two rambunctious 8 year-old in check?

So, a-sledding we went.  A winter wonderland.  Sheer, treacherous beauty on West 108th Street.

As I was fretting about the absence of protective gear while trying not to fall down the hill at scary velocity (I remember all too well flying down the hill with SOPOBAB when he was a littler kid.  I also remember buying another life insurance policy the following day, because SOPOBAB would bounce, as children do; I would not have survived another run.)

But, then, life has a way of keeping it all real.  A child, whose family apparently fell on hard times (they must have been slumming by spending year-end at home), stated with disgust, “There isn’t even a hot chocolate shack!” If that were my child, he would be enrolled at military school tomorrow.  Yes, I am passing judgment (and also stating a fact).

Toto, I have a feeling we are not in Aspen anymore. It was so pathetic and sad at the same time that I couldn’t, simply couldn’t, take a picture of the spoiled brat who uttered that line.  Ok, I almost did, but G-d intervened and the battery of my camera failed.  Lucky kid, but karma, as we know, is a boomerang.

BUT, THE BATTERY DID NOT DIE BEFORE I GOT A PICTURE OF A SARTORIAL/PSYCHO-SOCIAL TRAGEDY.  Before I share this vignette, I will note that my own outfit could remind a person of Pippy Longstocking — everything was mismatched in that way that you wear whatever will keep you warm.  In fact, I was wearing a serial-killer hat (depicted in every artist sketch in an all-points bulletin) that made me look particularly deranged and very much like a predicate felon.  But that isn’t what I am talking about.

I am talking about an outfit that could scar a child for life.

A MOTHER IN A SUMMER’S PEASANT SKIRT, WINTER JACKET WITH FUR LINING, CARRYING A BRUSHED COPPER COLORED PURSE, TOTALLY IGNORANT OF THE GRAVE EMBARRASSMENT AND LIFETIME TRAUMA SHE WAS CAUSING HER LITTLE SON:

Later she yelled at her son who is out of control as he sled down the hill, “watch your kepilah [head]!!!” as if summoning G-d to deliver her from this pagan ritual that assimilation has thrust upon them. The only saving Grace is that this the Upper West Side of New York, with a Jewish population larger than the whole of Israel.  So, we understand.  Because was heard these humiliating stories from our parents as part of their own, very personal, Exodus stories.

A bastardized adage still holds true:

One person’s winter’s wonderland is another person’s proof that Hell DOES freeze over.

Share

All quiet on the Upper West Side

Posted on by
Reply

Our son is sick and so POB (partner of blogger) and I have split the task of caring for him so we can have at least a half-day at work.

Sometimes, the delicate balance maintained by two working parents is thrown off and you have to deal.  I was able to be on conference calls and do some work, all the while hugging and kissing my child and saying things my mother would say, “My poor tsatskela, I am so sorry you are sick.  If I could have it for you, I would!”

Our son wanted to watch a nature video on the Grand Canyon.  So, I am watching as a tarantula hawk wasp (as in insect) paralyzes a tarantula (as in huge, hairy and gross) and drags it off so the wasp’s larvae can feed on the tarantula.  Something small dragging something comparatively elephantine is quite extraordinary.  It is also quite disgusting.  But it is better than a SpongeBob SquarePants marathon.  I am grateful for life’s small graces.

Now, the nature show has moved to the effect of human intervention on the natural course of the Grand Canyon on humpback suckerfish and chuckwallises (sp?).  I keep returning to reading proposed model changes to credit agreements made necessary by the lessons (??) learned in the economic downturn.

Suckerfish and chuckwallises are more interesting.  Now, that is a statement.

We are now looking at the ecosystems of the Everglades.  Two many reptiles and I keep thinking of Horatio Caine and CSI: Miami.  This, I can tune out.  Work wins this round.

Share