Combo #6 Was a Big Hit Tonight

It's commonly thought that routine is good for kids. It creates stability and comfort, giving them security in knowing what to expect. We seem to be King and Queen of routine. Oh, not about naptime. Or bedtime. Or, well, most of the other "scheduled" parts of the day. Of course, weekday mornings require routine to get to work and school on time. Those kiddos now understand that when I need to go or I'll miss the bus, they had better let me go. This is less from an understanding of professional work ethic, as from a deeply rooted sense of awe of any bus, train or plane. Missing the bus is worse than time out in their eyes. Weekends include housework, playing outside, visiting with friends, they now include soccer (a whole other post!), and grocery shopping for the week. And Starbucks. However, there is often one day most weeks when making dinner just isn't feasible. Maybe the chicken expired in the fridge earlier than I expected. Maybe (hypothetically speaking of course) I got on the wrong bus and had to call Fillip to say I was all the way across the valley, and getting on another bus heading back, but please come pick me up at this alternate stop. Hypothetically, this wrong bus had the right number for those of you who might suggest reading that hypothetical sign.

So, about once every week or two we go to our favorite place. It's a little Mexican restaurant that has cheap, plentiful and delicious food. Seriously, going out to dinner is synonymous with going there. We rarely deviate because the reason we are going out to begin with always involves simplifying the evening, and therefore does not include a decision about where to go. The kids love it and rarely leave anything on their plates. They always get the kids mini-burritos usually with rice and beans. They are pretty good about trying new things, but hadn't yet ventured into another item. I had never paid attention to the fact that Fillip always orders their dinners by combo number, rather than name. Tonight was one of those nights when dinner at home wasn't the best option.

On the way over to the restaurant, before we had even discussed our dinner choice, we heard a little Logan voice say "I don't want combo #3." Maybe we need a little less routine.

Oh, and for the record, he ordered and enchilada instead of his burritos, ate the whole thing, and the enchilada from Fillip's plate. Hayden downed both burritos as quickly as any industrial vacuum. That's what we like about our routine.

Mammoth Memories

This past week we headed for the hills to Mammoth. I had never been there, and now understand why people love it so much. It is truly beautiful, and we couldn't have asked for better weather. There was some snow, and some sunshine, and it was never ridiculously cold. They did wear snowsuits- Hayden looked like pit crew for NASCAR and Logan looked like an Oompa Loompa, but they sure were cute. There were 15 of us- 8 adults and 7 kids. Basically, Fillip's entire immediate family. The kids had an absolute blast playing together, and the kids other than mine are all excellent skiiers and/or snowboarders. We did send Hayden to ski school twice. He enjoyed it the first time, but was slightly overwhelmed and beyond tired. The second day seemed to really click with him and I was so proud to see my little man navigating the "slope." While Hayden was at ski school, we had a chance for some one on one time with Logan. He did ask to go skiing, but was satisfied by our explanation that he has to be 3 years old to go to ski class. We built a snowman and played at the house until it was time to go pick up Hayden.

One afternoon, due to popular demand (demand being the key word here) we took the boys on the gondolas. Despite a pretty strong wind shaking the gondola, the boys thought that was great fun. I did NOT. At one point we bounced so hard that we heard a soft thwump as Logan fell off his seat onto the floor. He didn't care though, and all they wanted the rest of the trip was the gondolas. We could see them from our rental house, and the boys carefully monitored when the gondolas were running, each one that floated by, and when they had stopped for the day.

My favorite part was watching the kids play on the toboggin. All of them were fearless in racing down the hills, alone or together with as many as could fit at one time. They happily played together for hours, and tired themselves out so much, that even Hayden took a nap every day we were there. There was a bunk room with two sets of double wide bunks for all the kids. My boys felt so grown up getting to bunk up with their big cousins, and didn't give us any trouble about going to bed. Logan wasn't too bad about waking everyone early, especially since the household was up early to hit the slopes anyway.

Hopefully, we can make this an annual trip. With an easy drive, beautiful scenery, and so much fun activity, I can see building a lot of memories there.

A Bit Macabre

Hayden is very detail oriented, and doesn't miss a thing. We were having a conversation a couple nights ago and I was trying to get him to relate to my feelings about him not being nice. I was saying "think about if I said....blah blah...how would you feel?" So, he tried to flip it around on me by creating a similar scenario. It went something like this:

Very casually- "Mommy, what if you were little? When you were a little girl. And I was your Daddy? But I was still alive. And..." BLAM!! That kid doesn't miss a thing. Even in a hypothetical scenario, he needs to get the details right. Pretending to be my Daddy would make you dead, unless you specified otherwise. No, he wasn't trying to be hurtful, nor did I take it that way. I didn't even comment on that detail, so nonchalantly thrown in there. Coincidentally, the next day (yesterday) was the anniversary of my Dad's death. January 10th.

Each year on January 10th (as well as Father's Day) I visit my Father's grave. It's often a dismal, rainy day making it that much more unpleasant. The first few years, January 10th came around with literal black clouds in the sky, as well as on my soul. How could I face this anniversary year after year? The first few years, I stood there very young and lost. I would look out over the hillside, so very aware that I was literally standing on top of the physical remains of the man who raised me. Yes, my Mom was there alongside him, but a Mother and a Father each have very unique and significant roles. I had lost half my upbringing at age 19. On the cusp of adulthood, I no longer had him to turn to for all those adult questions, triumphs, and challenges I would be facing. When I left my marriage, I would stand there in shame, feeling like I had failed him and had absolutely no way to reconcile this. How could I explain? How could I get his absolution and understanding for making the choices I had made? When I graduated college, I stood there wishing I could see the proud smile he would have had across his face. When I was engaged once again, I didn't have him there to give his approval and celebrate with me. And when I was pregnant, out of respect for his very superstitious ways, I would not enter the cemetary, yet felt his absence even more profoundly because he would never know these two beautiful, engaging grandsons he now has in his memory. Despite these visits and mental conversations at his grave, I never truly felt a connection to him there. The emotions seemed to brew over due to the immense amount of contemplation I gave all these things around this anniversary. It was a quiet moment to reflect and grieve for what I no longer had, despite the lifetime legacy of love and values he had bestowed on me.

Day to day there are many things that make me feel much closer to my Dad's memory than those self-imposed graveside visits do. It might be a song on the radio triggering a memory of him belting out a favorite tune. I definitely inherited my Dad's singing voice. Anyone who has heard me sing knows, that's not exactly a compliment. Yet, sing we did, with great gusto. I still do, much to the chagrin of Fillip, the poor sop who has to endure my caterwauling from time to time. The expressions I see on Logan's face certainly let me know my Dad is still close, and the values I feel in my very soul are a direct link to this person who has had such an amazing influence on me, despite his absence my entire adult life.

As I stood at that grave yesterday, on an exceptionally mild-weathered day, I felt so completely detached from my Dad. This was disturbing at first. I felt that maybe this dishonored his memory and the love we shared, by not being emotional on the anniversary of the day he left us for good. I had to really think about this. Like always, I put my rock there to mark my visit, and stood there a little uncertainly, not really knowing what to do, even after all these years. My mental dialogue seemed rather generic and stale for a daughter visiting the grave of a Father she loved and misses very much. As I looked around at the panorama before me, nothing had really changed. Sure, there were a few new buildings across the way. The cemetary has developed the land further up the hill now. And my car- now that was different. My mind then played a montage for me of all the visits over the past 14 years, and the vehicles that I had parked in that very same spot, before heading past the grave to the fence to find my rock. As my memory of each car played out, so did my memory of who I was at these different points in time. I came to a very important realization. I am not the same lost soul I was 14 years ago. Life has humbled me for sure, yet given me more confidence and joy as well. Yesterday, I stood there as a 33 year old woman. A strong, independent woman. Fourteen years later, I can face this date with love and memory. I only had him for 19 years, and have now lived without him for 14 more. We are detached, and this is absolutely necessary. This is a good and healthy state of being. I shed a couple tears yesterday for the memory of my Father. But when I really thought about it, I know he would be so proud of the woman I am today.

I Have a Newfound Respect for My Grandma.

My Grandma used to play endless board games with me. Bedtime was not an issue when the Master of the Game was being determined. The game we played the most by far was Aggravation. She was great about teaching me strategy and good sportsmanship. Cheering each other on was essential. However, there was a flip side to that. She was ruthless! She would bump off my marble with a little shout of glee, and expected the same of me given an opportunity to keep her from bringing that marble "Home." Playful pouting was fine, but no sulking allowed. We could gloat, but we could not get mad. The first loser would call out "two out of three!" in order to get the tournament going. I can remember my Grandpa dozing on the recliner chair nearby, giving us a sleepy indulgent smile at midnight as he would hear shouts of "seven out of ten!" There were several other games too like rummy tile (which I don't think I have ever won), and Hi Ho Cherry Oh.

For Chanukah this year, Hayden was given Hi Ho Cherry Oh. He and I have played Candyland, and recently War, but he hadn't yet seen this childhood favorite of mine. Last night I thought it would be great fun to bring Logan into the world of games as well. What I did not realize is how difficult it is to set up the game. Those cherries are so tiny, and it was taking me forever to get all 40 of them on the trees. Each time I would get about halfway there, Logan would accidentally bump the board, sending them all flying. After about half a dozen times, I was getting pretty frustrated. We would start to play then- Blam! At one point we were pretty well into an actual game. Hayden was being a great sport each time his spinner landed on a dog or a bird (put 2 cherries back!) or dumped his bucket completely. Logan was doing pretty well understanding how to play. He had a surprisingly good spin on the spinner and counted along as we put cherries in his bucket or back on the tree. When I would spin a bird or a dog they would both shout "Hey Birdie!! Hey Doggie!!" It was really cute. The first game was only a couple rounds, as I somehow got lucky on each spin. Next, Hayden won a round where Logan was off distracted by something else. We set up again, as there had been no clear winner, and Logan wanted to play. Again, that little foot bumped the board halfway through the game eliciting my frustrated cry of "Logan!!" and thoughts that I should just put the whole thing away. He responded with a very sweet "Sawwy, Mommy. It was a attident. I won do it adain."

Awww, shucks. Two out of three then!

Santa Claus is Coming To Town, but Chanukah Has Come and Gone

Although our celebratory dinners continue for a couple more nights (and then next weekend, and then on Christmas), Chanukah is officially over. As hectic as it is, I really do enjoy this holiday. That might be due to the fact that we have 8 nights to get together with people, rather than trying to cram everyone we know and love into one day. It has been really nice to spend time with family and friends, trying to keep a hectic schedule relaxed by making simpler menus, and not worrying about a spotless house. I haven't even been baking. That is quite the concession, but a needed one. Although I really love to bake, I simply don't have much time. I'll start again with the boys when we are less busy and can enjoy the process more.

The kids really enjoy the ritual of lighting candles every night, and can recognize the Hebrew blessings when they hear them out of context, like on a Chanukah cd I have in the car. They are surprisingly low key about getting presents. Getting them to open more than one is actually a challenge. They do love all their new stuff, however, and I think that is going a long way toward more peaceful mornings. The kids are occupied with new toys rather than diaper cream, bathroom soap and red chalk. Monday night is our first free evening in about 10 days, so we will start implementing an early bedtime to get our little guys back on track. The Shared Bedroom Experiment is over for now, by the way. We will likely try it again, but the sleep deprivation was getting to us all. Despite all the sickies going around, so far we only have one small cold in the house, although Logan is a little wheezy, and ready to start nebulizer treatments again.

Second night of Chanukah

Today was the kids' Holiday Program. Try as I might, I could not keep from bawling for the first 10 minutes of the show. They are all just so freakin' cute! Hayden didn't seem to want to sing, although he wasn't objecting to being on stage. Logan was happy to participate best he could, but once his class came down, he wanted me to hold him. For some reason he was holding on for dear life. Maybe he was more nervous about the show than he let on, but I was happy to indulge those snuggles. I did convince him to go back up with everyone for the last song. It was really cute to see him run across the room after the class. He is by far the littlest one. At one point, Hayden's class was sitting in back on risers, while Logan's class stood in front singing their song. Hayden was slouched down, almost competely flat, obviously bored out of his mind! They did have a couple Chanukah songs sung by all the little girls - and Hayden. His teacher kind of (gently) shoved him into the middle of the lineup. Lucky lil dude to be with all the girls! After the program parents were asked to stay and help their kids with the potluck lunch. My kids didn't seem impressed with the fare, but the homemade Indian samosas were unbelievably delicious! Had Logan not been clearly exhausted, I would have indulged his request to come to work with me. However, he obviously needed his nap and I know he is enjoying his afternoon. It's hard for me to believe that we are already in a point in life where finding the video camera for the kids' perfomance is critical.

Whoosh! That's the sound of these kids growing up.

Last night of Chanukah

Another thing my Dad was so right about

My Dad would never say goodbye. It didn't matter how long you would be gone. He considered it bad luck. He would only say "See you later" because you knew you would see each other again. When I gave my eulogy for my Dad, I ended with "See you later, Dad." And now I have. Since Logan was a tiny baby I have seen my Dad come through that face. Sometimes it is those incredibly full cheeks and lips. Sometimes it is in his intense expressions. Sometimes I can't even pin my finger on it, but know with every fiber of my being that I am looking not just at my son, but at my father as well.