the pieces of my life

Walking home from school today, Pie announced apropos of nothing, “When I grow up, I’m going to be a doctor!”

Me: What kind of doctor?
Pie: A marathon doctor! A racer doctor!
Doodles: There’s no such thing!
Pie: No?
Doodles: There are four kinds of doctor. There’s no marathon doctor.
Me: What are the four kinds?
Doodles: There are ambulance doctors, hospital doctors, office doctors, and come home doctors.
Me: What’s a come home doctor?
Doodles: That’s the kind of doctor who comes to your home.
Me: Oh.
Pie: I’m going to be an office doctor. A racing marathon office doctor.

Everyday I ask Doodles what he did at school. And everyday he gives me the same answer: “I don’t remember.”

I was flipping through a parenting magazine (can’t remember which one) and it had some ideas for conversation starters with kids. One of the things they suggested was the game Two Truths and a Lie. The game is pretty simple–you name two things that are true and one that’s a lie and others have to guess which is the lie.

This game has completely revolutionized conversation with the boy. He loves the game, and we all go around the table to take a turn. He’s actually gotten pretty good at the game (oh,yea! I’m teaching my child how to be an effective liar!).

But the thing is, Pie wants to play too. And Pie just doesn’t get it.

Pie: It’s my turn! My turn!
Adam: Okay. You go.
Pie [whispering to me]: What did I do today?
Me: [whispering back]: Why don’t I go first so you can hear?
Pie [whispering]: Okay.
Me: Okay, so, um, let’s see. I bought chicken taquitos at Costco. I watched Doodles and Pie get their teeth cleaned. And I watched an alligator at–
Pie: No!
Me: What? I’m not done!
Pie [shaking her finger]: Mama, you’re wrong! You’re wrong! There was no alligator. Remember? They said there was no alligator!
Me: We’re playing the game. I need to make something up.
Pie: But you’re wrong! Okay, my turn.
Me: Go for it.
Pie: Okay. [whispering to me] What did I do?
Me [whispering]: You went to the dentist. You went to Costco. You saw the animal show at the library.
Pie [whispering]: Right. [to the everyone] I went to the dentist. I went to Costco. And I saw animals at the library.
Me: You did all those things.
Pie: I know!
Me: One of those is supposed to be a lie.
Pie: What?
Me: You are supposed to make something up.
Pie: But I did do all those things!

I have one great liar. And one great talker. Why do I think both of these are going to bite me in the butt later?

I love complaining about my children. You know that. I do it here all the time. And on Facebook. And Twitter. And IM to Adam. Complaining about kids is kind of like my hobby.

Until.

Until.

Damn that American educational system! The boy is actually reading! Reading, I tell you! Which is all fine and cute and dandy when he’s picking up Mouse Tales or Beyond the Dinosaurs: Monsters of the Air and Sea .

But when he’s standing next to my computer, asking, “Why did you write, ‘It’s… all… falling…a-a-pa-apart…here’?” well, it’s not so cute anymore.

Why didn’t we go Waldorf? They don’t learn to read till seven. I would have had another year and a half of private IMs and Twitters and whatnot to complain about those munchkins….

Ah, Patriots’ Day. The start of spring break. Five days. Me and my kids. At home. With four days of predicted rain. Fun all around!

Actually, I love Patriots’ Day, as I attest every year. It’s like 4th of July, but with jackets and better parades. We started out the day at the marathon. This year they were more enthusiastic about going than last year. Of course, stopping at Whole Foods to buy them both their own box of bunny snacks (cheddar for him; snack mix for her) that they weren’t allowed to open till we got to the race helped tremendously. But we headed down to Framingham, and although we only saw one out of five friends who were running, it was definitely worth the trip. I’m determined that I’m not running another marathon this year, but watching those folks go make me doubt myself. “It wouldn’t hurt to do one more this year, a nice easy fall marathon.” Doodles was fine, coloring a poster, and Pie was fascinated, watching the runners go by. No matter how many times I told her it was not only okay, but encouraged, to use her “outside voice,” she just watched. But for me, I love yelling at the runners, calling out folks as they run by. We stayed an hour, after we saw the slowest of our runner friends (and Pie loved the fact that out of the five runners we knew, the four women beat the guy by over an hour [sorry, Fishy, just telling it like it is!]. A big shout out to Ana-Maria, Sue, Sue, and Saskia for not just finishing the race but really taking it to a new level–two qualified for next year’s race and the other two ran at speeds I can only dream about). When it was time to go, Doodles was ready, but Pie complained. “I want to see more runners!” then she asked, “I want to run marathons. Will you teach me how to run, Mommy?” Made my heart go, Zing! She’s definitely my baby.

We swung by Adam’s office to have lunch with him, which the kids adored. I’m not sure if Pie was more excited about lunch with Daddy or the chance to write on his white board, but she was thrilled. Then we headed back to Lexington. Pie was a little disappointed–“I want to see the runners again! Please can’t we go back and see the runners again?”–but then when she realized where we were going, she perked up. The kids were in their true spirits. Doodles was in full negative tilt: “I don’t want to go to a parade!” Pie was brimming with joy: “I love parades!”

Of course, toward the end, the temperature had dropped, the wind was blowing, and I asked, “Should we go?” and Pie said, “I’m ready,” but Doodles said, “No! It’s not over yet!” I have to learn to ignore everything that boy says and just make him do things, because he never wants to do anything and then always has a great time.

By the time we made it home, we were all exhausted and happy. Another successful Patriots’ Day. Now to think about that next marathon. For me. And who knows? Maybe, one of these days, for Pie.

Me: I need to run by the store and get some Oxiclean.

Pie: What for?

Me: To get the grape juice and wine out of our table cloth.

Pie: I seen that on TV.

Me: Really?

Doodles: Yeah! And you can get a spray with Oxi power! It’ll really clean. All you need is one squirt and it cleans!

Me, vaguely horrified: Oh?

Doodles: See, Mom! TV is good for some things!

Today I was rolling out the bread dough, preparing to braid it for our Friday night hallah. Doodles’s friend, Tab, was over. The two of them and Pie were sitting at the counter while I did this.* Now, have you ever seen hallah rolled out into logs before it’s braided. It has a distinctly, um, shall we say phallic look to it? So I cringed when Doodles said to Tab: “You know what that looks like?”

Tab: “No, what?”

And now I’m preparing to jump in. Not sure what I’m going to say. Doodles has been going out of his way lately to be rude, disruptive, and to shock (but luckily only at home–he’s on best behavior at school).

Doodles: It looks like bones!

I’m greatly relived. But then he surprises me by continuing.

Doodles: Do you know which bone it looks like?

Tab: No.

Doodles: It looks like a femur!

Me: How do you know what a femur is?

Doodles: From school. [He points to his leg.] The femur is right here. [And I had to look it up just now to confirm he was right. And he was.] Do you know how I remember?

Me: No.

Doodles: Femur in front! So the patella is in back.

In those moments, I’m reminded that this kid has his own life. I, a runner who should know better, have no idea what the bones of my body are called. He’s got this whole world going on that I’m not part of where he’s learning and doing in his own life and becoming this real little person.

And then, then he reminds me. He’s just my little boy. Take dinner tonight:

Pie: I fed Haver at school today! [Haver means “friend” in Hebrew and it’s the name of the guinea pig in Pie’s classroom.

Doodles: You did?

Pie: Yes! He took the lettuce right from my hand.

Doodles: Who feeds Haver at night time?

Adam: The leave food for Haver at night, probably. And then, when everyone leaves, he watches movies on TV.

Doodles: Really?!?

Pie: No. He’s a guinea pig.

Doodles: I want a guinea pig!

Me: We’ll think about that.

Doodles: But who would feed the guinea pig lunch while I’m at school?

Pie: I’ll feed him when you’re at school!

Doodles: No! You can’t feed him. The only one who’s allowed to take care of Haver…

And here I’m thinking, “Hey, maybe he is mature enough to have a small pet.”

Doodles: …is Mom and Dad!

And there goes the guinea pig, folks. Once my baby boy, always my baby boy.

* This, I have to say, is my absolutely favorite feature in the house–that we have a peninsula in the kitchen where the kids can sit and have snack or do their homework while I’m in the kitchen; the kids love it, too, although they don’t realize it yet as I’ve been baking for them a ton more lately and that they’re in to. Just yesterday I made the most amazing pumpkin-banana muffins and they were oil free, If you try these yourself, I cut the sugar down to 3/4 cup for each, didn’t use oat bran, but instead used extra oatmeal, which I first ground in a hand blender to make it less textured for little boys who don’t like texture–the boy’s eaten four in the last 24 hours and only because I cut him off. Am I Martha yet?

–The boy twisted his ankle today and sprained it while playing on his gymnastics mat. He had to hop to dinner. Lie on the couch. Moan. We did the RICE treatment, so I had him stick his leg on the arm of the sofa and put an ice pack on it. He got a couple of shows. Adam carried him to bed. And then I asked, “Can you twirl your foot?”

The boy: Ow, ow, ow! [he twirls his foot] It hurts!

Me: Are you sure? Because when you were laying on the couch, it was the other foot was the twisted one.

The boy: Oh. Which ankle did I sprain?

–I promised my b’nai mitzvah class that I’d have a rough draft of our dvar written in two weeks. That was one week and six days ago. It’s a very dry parsha. Jubilee years and all sorts of fun stuff. But no worries. I have a couple hours tomorrow after volunteering in the kindergarten to get it done. Oh, whoops! What’s that? Pie has a fever? No school tomorrow? I’ve had how much wine? Should be an interesting Torah talk…

–The boxes are pretty much unpacked. But in order to get those boxes unpacked, I had to put the stuff somewhere. So the floor is now covered with stuff that had been neatly put away in boxes. I have one week to get it all put away because…

–In one week I host my first social event of the year. Sure, some might call it a solemn religious occasion, but why split hairs? I’m hosting a Passover seder, which will call for full use of my beautiful new stove. I can’t wait. Including my family, there will be 18 of us. I’ve already made two huge batches of chicken soup, farfel kugel, and I’ve bought enough matzah and gefilte fish to get us through at least a few days, so at this point I know no one will starve. I’m plotting out what to cook next.

–So the contractor handed back his key today. Sad, sad day for me. No more, “Could you just…” “Would you mind…” “Hey, maybe we should…” Now it’s just me and Adam. The trailer’s out of the front yard, the garbage is off the front porch, and the mailbox has even been returned to its rightful place on the house. All that’s left is for me to get my crap off the floor.

–Random link: I love this site. Everyone go save a word. I haven’t officially adopted a word yet. I haven’t found the one yet. I’m waiting for my beshert. Although I’m sure you’ll be able to tell on this blog when I’ve chosen my one. I’m also into the Very Short List. Best e-mails I get.

–When I was a wee girl, I had three stuffed animals: Beady Bear (named for the book of the same name), Snoopy, and Elly Belly Elephant. I will come out and say that Elly Belly Elephant was a disputed animal: The Tweedle Twirp seemed to think that Elly Belly was hers. Let me set the record straight here: The Tweedle Twirp was wrong. I still own Beady Bear. He’s a little worn, but still recognizable. Tweeds had custody of the other two.

Tweeds decided it was time to pass the two on to my children. I took the two creatures, which were recognizable. That is, if by recognizable you think of a homeless, strung out, Avenue Q-version of Snoopy and Elly. Those two have never been washed. I’m pretty sure not ever. Those animals are about 38 or so years old, and untouched by water. So I took those animals in the name of my children. And I decided it was high time they were introduced to the pleasures of cleanliness. Into the washer they went.

It is with great regret that I have to inform you that they didn’t make it back out and they have gone to the great playroom in the sky.

RIP Snoopy and Elly. You were well loved.

Peter [my father], on the way to the “new” house after picking him up at the T station:
So, Pie, what color is your room!
Pie: Purple! Lily Lavender!
Peter: Oh! And what color is the guest room?
Pie: Um… it’s white! Like your hair!

Doodles: Dad, the laundry is really piling up. You need to do it.
Adam: Why don’t you tell your mother that?
Doodles: Dad! Mom doesn’t do laundry!

We ended up one of our days in a mall in Tel Aviv for lunch, primarily, I believe, because it’s one of the few locations in Israel with a kosher McDonald’s, which is apparently a big deal if you keep kosher, which we clearly do not. My son, the adventurous eater that he is, decided on Sbarro’s pizza. In Israel, Sbarro’s pizza comes with a kid’s prize. Doodles chose dinosaur eggs that will hatch in water, which caused much discussion.

Adam: When the eggs hatch, what kind of dinosaur do you think it’ll be?
Doodles: I hope it’s a plant eater because if it’s a meat eater I’d have to kill something to feed it meat, and I don’t know how to do that because I’m not a solider.

He then posed the same question to his youth counselor. His young, sweet Israeli youth counselor. His young, sweet, Israeli, do I need to add Orthodox? youth counselor.
Counselor: It might be a plant eater or it could eat both plants and meat so if it can’t find any meat, it could eat plants. What kind of meat would you feed it?
Doodles: Well, bacon is meat. I can feed it bacon.

To which she had no response.

That boy of mine. Always knows just the right thing to say.