Mixed emotions...

My grandfather died yesterday. I haven't spoken to him for years, and he crossed physical and emotional boundaries with me that are still impacting my life and my relationships today, so needless to say, I'm not sad to see him go.   He was an alcoholic, I think, and a misogynistic, racist, generally horrible man.   It's not nice to speak ill of the dead. I know that. And with the Jewish tradition of having someone in the ground so quickly, I cannot get to his funeral without a $2k travel bill.  Not that I would want to go, but I know my mother is not handling it very well, and for HER, I would suck it up.

Eleanor never met him. I never allowed it. I'm hopeful that this will make going down to Florida easier, and perhaps she can meet her great-grandmother.  Who also may not be the nicest lady in town, but at least I am not worried that she'll hurt Ellie. My grandfather didn't earn the right to meet my daughter. My grandmother enabled him to be as nasty as he was, but she personally never hurt me.

Family is such a strange thing. I'm so lucky to have married someone who can look at family as a necessary  thing to be endured, but not believe in obligatory love.  We both feel that people need to earn love and respect, and various members of our respective families have lost that with us. So here we are, starting a family from scratch with very little in the way of how families are "supposed" to be.

All that being said, Trent and I were watching a British TV series the other night, World's Strictest Parents, and we both agreed on the basics of what Eleanor would and would NOT be raised with: self esteem is wonderful, but a child should not always get their way; Parents should be parents, not friends, etc...These children were fairly awful teens, and whilst I completely understand the premise of rebellion, we will do our best to instill a strong work ethic in Eleanor, as well as the idea that short-cutting around doing real work will not be rewarded.

It seems that so many people today, not just children, are intrinsically lazy!! There have been books and documentaries recently that highlight the selfishness and egocentrism of folks raised with the idea that they are the only people in the world who matter. You can see it in politics, you can see it in teenagers, and most recently, the riots around the world--why should "normal" people obey the laws if the people MAKING the laws, educated, privileged people, feel compelled to lie, cheat, and steal?

To put a more personal perspective, Eleanor is at the age now (17 mo) where she still is completely allowed to think that she is the centre of the world. But this is where the fundamentals have to be established.  It's fascinating to watch her figure things out, really. She can be quite rough and physical with the cats and dog, for example, so I am teaching her Gentle and Nice...so her first response is to 1) smack the cat 2) look to me for my reaction and then 3) kiss the cat.  Testing boundaries and figuring things out. Wild stuff, and it can be really hard not to laugh sometimes as she throws her food and promptly shrugs her shoulders like "What Happened?" and says "Uh Oh!"...

What happened?? (as she threw a blueberry to the dog)

Standing at the top of the slide applauding herself while I try to remain calm and tell her to SIT DOWN!

On Illness and Animals

Well, Eleanor is sick again. Mild pneumonia but the 2nd round in 4 months. Apparently, once she's had it once, she is pre-disposed to getting it again.  We had to go to CHEO today for more chest x-rays, and she was a champ, in spite of the archaic contraption they have set up to keep her in position...seems like the only chance I get to update this blog is when she's down and out...

That being said, since she started walking, she rarely ACTUALLY walks...She's full out running, and occasionally falling. Skinned knees are just how we roll. She's a really happy and fun toddler, REALLY strong-willed, and higher-power-help me (see there really is a lack of expletives that don't have religious connotations!!), the temper tantrums are starting early around these parts.  But she's getting more and more fun, and developing a heck of a sense of humour. I'm so lucky, getting to hang with her...most days...:)

There's something magical about watching her make connections.  Whether it's building and putting things together, physically, or climbing, or language...she still doesn't have a ton of words, but her sign language is exploding. And if she doesn't know the sign for something, she signs something else and then shakes her head No...

Example: while looking through her animal book, I ask her to show me the Elephant (one of her favourites)

Ellie points to Elephant and makes the sign and sound. Then she points to the Antelope. Well, Mommy doesn't KNOW that sign, so I say "that's an antelope!" So she signs Elephant, points to the antelope, and then shakes her head NO...so the sign for Antelope is now "not-an-elephant".  Wild.

We went to the Experimental farm here a couple of weeks ago before she got sick, and for a kiddo who LOVES her animal books, she's a bit hesitant about the "real deal". I guess I can't blame her. Cows ARE pretty massive to a 24 lb toddler...she quite liked the chickens, though. More her size.  And most recently, she is completely in love with our 15 year old Siamese cat and wants to follow him wherever he goes. Including up on the back of the sofa, onto and under tables, on the ottoman. Together, they pushed the 90 lb.  dog off of her chair, and Ellie read a story to Mouse.  OK, the little monkey is up, so I'm off for now!

Following Mouse wherever he goes

Reading to the cat

gratitude

It's been quite some time since I've posted...Eleanor was sick in April for 2 weeks with pneumonia and another week from the antibiotics. And then May just kinda got away from me.

OK, so I don't believe in a higher power, but I'm trying to figure out exactly where to direct my gratitude today...
Exclamations like "Thank God" come to mind, and I actually am not sure where I stand on the premise of Luck these days...

But back to the gratitude part: Eleanor is sick again today with a fever spiking up to 104.  She's acting OK, not like with the pneumonia, but pretty disinterested in food.  And I have this immense gratitude in my heart for the fact that we are still nursing.

I have a love-hate relationship with breastfeeding.  She nurses to sleep for naps and bedtime and it just seems never-ending some days...I worry that she'll still be nursing when she goes to university, as she shows absolutely no propensity to stopping on her own. So I find myself reading articles like Weaning Slowly, With Love...and Nightweaning...and dream of the premise of sleeping through the night again.

But then there are days like today, when I KNOW she feels crappy, and I KNOW that I can insure that she stays hydrated and gets calories even if she doesn't want to eat.

So I would like to send out a big ol' THANK YOU to the universe, for granting me this ability to care for my baby.  And while I'm at it, I should probably thank modern medicine for Advil/Tylenol, too, eh? ;)

If I prayed...

Or if I even truly believed in a higher power, I hope I could be as eloquent and funny as the glorious Ms. Tina Fey.  I'm not usually one to cut and paste like this, but there's no way I could write anything nearly as fabulous as this:


First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches. (OK, as someone with her fair share of ink, I cannot judge and will not hold tattoos against my daughter. But I do hope that if she chooses to tat herself up, that she puts lots of thought into what she wants permanently emblazoned on her person).

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her
When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.

What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short - a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day - And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a B.itch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that S.hit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.

-An excerpt from Tina Fey's new book -Bossypants, 2011

Growing up Jewish

One of my best friends, Julie, sent me a goofy email about growing up Jewish, and I figured I'd cut and paste with comments...some of this stuff doesn't apply, but some of it does, and I figure it'll give me a chance to see what chords it strikes with regards to raising Eleanor.  It's a bit on the long side, so I'm thinking i might stretch it into a few posts...

Growing up Jewish:

If you are Jewish, and grew up in city with a large Jewish population, or are gentile with Jewish friends or associates, the following will invoke heartfelt memories, so read on.........

The only good advice that your Jewish mother gave you was:"Go! You might meet somebody!"

    I never dated Jewish boys. Seriously. I had a 2 week 'relationship' with a boy with a green mohawk my Sophomore year in college, but he was allergic to my sweaters that my mom made. Destined for failure. The only good thing that came of it, honestly, was that I was able to tell my family "Hey, I tried".

     

Every Saturday morning your father went to the neighborhood deli (called an "appetitizing store") for whitefish salad, whitefish "chubs"), lox (nova if you were rich!), herring, corned beef, roast beef, cole slaw, potato salad, a 1/2-dozen huge barrel pickles which you reached into the brine for, a dozen assorted bagels, cream cheese and rye bread (sliced while he waited). All of which would be strictly off-limits until Sunday morning.

Bagels and lox were tradition for sure.  And here in Canada, the bagels aren't the same as what I'm used to. I've been a vegetarian for a long time, so I don't really miss the lox anymore, but I will go so far as to import "real" bagels from NYC.  When living in NC, I did this a few times too. And when in graduate school, with a particularly tough case of TMJ, my doctor told me "avoid bagels", and it just didn't make sense. Bagels are one of the few foods my people do right!! Ellie will be raised with bagels. No doubt about it.  She will probably even be raised with my prejudices regarding what makes for a GOOD bagel (no raisins/blueberries, even in the cream cheese; fluffy, not dense; she will know what a schmear of cream cheese is...)

Every Sunday afternoon was spent visiting your grandparents and/or other relatives.

My grandparents moved down to FL, but not til after my great-grandparents did.  I was lucky enough to know 3 of my great grandparents on my mom's side. Nana Sally lived til I was about 14. Nana Sophie and Grampa Abe (Lipshitz) til I was in my 20s.  There are several stories, but I feel like that belongs in its own post...

You experienced the phenomenon of 50 people fitting into a 10-foot-wide dining room hitting each other with plastic plates trying to get to a deli tray.

Hasn't everyone?

You thought pasta was stuff used exclusively for Kugel and kasha with bowties.

Ugh. I hated kasha. I won't make Ellie eat that, or chopped liver. There are several foods in Jewish culture that are just plain icky.

You were as tall as your grandmother by the age of seven.

This applied to Nana Sally. I think she shrunk to about 4'8"?? But with a rack you could stack encyclopedias on.

You never knew anyone whose last name didn't end in one of 5 standard suffixes (berg, baum , man, stein and witz).  

It still amazes my husband when I tell him a particular actor or actress is Jewish just by their name...or more often but what their name WAS before they changed it <grin> But after my stint in Hebrew school, I knew plenty of non-Jewish folks.  I feel that I might have a hard time finding other Jews to introduce Eleanor to as she grows up, which is odd. I'd like to her to have an idea of some of this stuff without me being the one to instill it...

You were surprised to discover that wine doesn't always taste like cranberry sauce.
Maybe someday we'll do a Seder, just as a kind of sociologic experiment...Hiding matzoh? Well, I think the dog would find it before any children in this house...but the glasses upon glasses of Manischewitz , even when diluted with seltzer...*shiver*...Though I suppose it's the only way to dull the senses enough to get through a 3-4 hour meal with family...

You can look at gefilte fish and not turn green.
I actually used to like gefilte fish, even without the hot pink horseradish (courtesy of some well-placed beets)...But I don't think I like it enough to MAKE it in our vegetarian house, and the stuff that comes in the glass jars in the Kosher section of the market just look nasty...Perhaps Ellie will be spared...

You can understand Yiddish but you can't speak it.
There are some words that, i have to agree, have no good English equivalent.  Though I will make sure Eleanor KNOWS that these words are in a different language.  I grew up with them just as part of my vocabulary and didn't know that not everyone would understand me when using Yiddish in day to day conversation...

You know how to pronounce numerous Yiddish words and use them correctly in context, yet you don't know exactly what they mean. Kaynahurra.

Yea.  Very true. Thank goodness for the internet, and I've been able to look most of them up.

OK I'm going to post and then return to this later to finish up...Must go take advantage of a napping baby. Now that she's walking, I don't get much down time!!  She started officially walking last Monday and has been on the go ever since!

Eleanor walking

Ellie ready to plotz after her photo shoot with her friends

A maidel mit a kleidel (a girl in her new dress)

Music

OK, so we just watched an episode of Mad Men, which I love, and it ended with Peter Paul and Mary's version of Early In The Morning...and I caught myself singing along. Here's the problem. I love me some hippie music.  And some old blues.  Not to mention all the Requiems, Passions and choral classical in my collection. And there's a lot of God in them there lyrics...

Do athiests/agnostics have ANY good music???

There are no athiests in a foxhole...

Hmmm, perhaps my blogging about athiesm, etc, has pissed off some higher power, as our family has been smote (am I using that word correctly?) with a cold/cough that never goes away.  Ellie started off with a cold 3 weeks ago, which lingered with runny nose and then moved into a cough. Then I got it. Then my husband got it even worse. And we're all still coughing at nighttime...sigh...so that's my excuse for the time being as to why I haven't caught up with this blog...

In other news, Eleanor is now officially a one-year old.  We chose not to do a party, as...well...as she's 1, and doesn't know any different.  Her friend, whose birthday is 1 day after hers, had a party and we just went there. All the cake, none of the work :)

I never really thought of myself, or of Trent, as non-traditional, but there seems to be such a common thread of going "keeping up with the Joneses", even when kids are this young.  I don't just get it. But I'm learning to just keep quiet, and I have a feeling this end up being a running theme throughout Ellie's life.

Judge not lest thou be judged, right? Pretty basic Christian tenant. An oldie but a goodie, and I'm fine with this premise, really.  So on the topic of birthday parties and going over the top, I think I'm going to take a page from Barbara Kingsolver. She talks about (in Animal Vegetable Miracle) how her family has the tradition of allowing the children to celebrate their birthdays with as many children/friends as their age--so a 3 year old gets to have 3 friends over for a tea party or something...a 10 year old can have 10...seems pretty reasonable to me.

I remember for my Bat Mitzvah (I was 13), it ended up being a party for about 250 people. Essentially a business party/see and be seen for my father.  I was told I could invite 30 kids.  The thing is, I was painfully shy. I didn't HAVE 30 friends. And in middle school, where everything is so important, and heaven forbid someone more popular than I was having a party the same weekend...the pressure was actually really crappy. And I didn't feel comfortable telling my parents why this was stressing me out. Who wants to tell their parents that they don't have many friends??  Especially when appearances mean so much...anyway, just food (birthday cake?)  for thought on a late Friday night.