Lost Count - of # of surprises!

I can’t count the number of surprises I’ve had the past few days. After an hour or so of post-bedtime giggling, I went into the girls’ room to tell them to go to sleep. I found two girls in one crib, and the other still in her crib alone. I turned on my heels and ran down the hall to find my husband, who informed me that he had not moved anyone from their own bedtime spot. Sometimes we do let them “fall asleep” together or just play together for a while before separating them into their own cribs.

Turning on my heels again I hurried back to the room. N and E had that “cat-ate-the-bird” grin on their faces. Puzzled, I asked: “N, how did you get in there? Show us (by then, my husband was right behind me) how you did it.” She hesitated, then I assured her that its ok. In a blur of a half second she bounded over the side of the crib and landed feet on the floor. Surprise, kid on the loose!

Again I closed the door to three girls in three separate cribs. The squeaking and laughter didn’t stop, so eventually I opened that door once again. Surprise! All three girls were in ONE crib. Now I knew we had two flying monkeys.

Another time, I opened that door to find two little figures busy as bees in the dark. One was handing a toy over the crib to the one sister who hadn’t left her perch. Surprise! They are bold in their rebellion. With as little emotion as possible, I plopped them back in their cribs and repeated the mantra. The short version is “stay in your crib!” I’m in trouble now.

The next morning I awoke to sounds of a toy stroller rolling past my bedroom door. The mischief continues.

Last night they all woke up one at a time just when I was ready to go to sleep. First I brought H into bed with us and she was snug as a bug in a rug. When the other two started crying I knew I was doomed. They never go back to sleep when I go in to comfort them, and sure enough after a long while of making nice, rubbing backs, and holding tightly, they resumed crying when I pulled back my hand. All three girls joined us in bed, jogging for space, squirming and fighting over which one got more of me. Little E was on my chest, head heavy and hard into my chin. H made a pillow of her blanked on my left shoulder and rubbed her thumb sucking cheek against mine, and N bent herself over on my legs (until she found her favorite sleeping place on top of her Abba). When this sweet picture inevitably turned into elbows in the face I brought each girl back to her crib and let them cry it out. This morning E appeared at my feet.

At the moment they are napping and N and E are in their very own beds, converted this morning from cribs by yours truly. Instead of surprise on my face -as has become so frequent- I unlocked the door after fun with the Allen wrench to a bewildered N. Surprise! You have your own bed, no more crib. She stared, face as confused as I was to discover she could fly into her sisters’ crib. A smile began as she approached her bed yet she didn’t know what to do. I encouraged her to try it out, taught her how to (properly) get in and out, and repeated the mantra “you stay in your bed until we get you out.”

As usual, I let my children tell me when they’re ready for change and it happens before I feel ready. I tucked them in for nap in the “new” beds after a little more work on the next crib conversion and a late lunch of rice pasta with olive oil. H was a bit sad that she’s still in a crib, and I was a bit sad to look back into the room at big girl beds. They showed me that it was time to say goodbye to baby cribs and they surprised me with their tremendous wisdom. I am the one who has to catch up, who feels rushed to the next stage. Potty training was the same way. And eating with utensils, And eating solid foods. Each time, the girls (usually one at a time) told me they wanted to try something new. I let them experiment and gave some pointers. These girls are awesome. They are resilient, adventurous, caring, smart and so darn gorgeous. They constantly surprise me.

Today I had the joyous opportunity to surprise them, to show them what they were seeking with the crib climbing mischief flying monkey behavior. I heard their call, and responded to their need, even though it was outside my comfort zone. Frightened and awed by the way they are claiming their freedom, I will find clever ways to create boundaries for their (God willing safe) exploration. Conversely, I hope to break through my own constricting boundaries with the same brave, bold, confident and natural movement toward freedom.

for you: if you could fly, where would you go? what would you leave behind? who are your teachers?

Tonight will be 10+1 days of the Omer. Shabbat Shalom!

12 - Multiplication

A full circle moment today when my father tried to teach my eldest how to easily multiply any number by 11, after she tried to -lol- stump him with 9 times 12. That's one trick he taught me when I was a child, and always a good one. Times eleven was definitely not in the context of what day of the Omer it was today; sitting outside enjoying the weather, I was guiding an intergenerational getting-to-know-each-other-better game.

Math quizzes were a daily “oh Dad!” annoyance at my childhood dinner table, also the extent of conversation. My dad wasn't the most skilled at relating to growing daughters, but he certainly has changed a lot since I was young. For one thing, several years ago he started to make an effort. Recent conversations make it clear that he has done his work, thought deeply about himself, and that he loves and feels deeply. I've come to believe people can change, at least behavioral patterns, when they learn more about themselves and their tendencies during good times and bad.

Anger is an issue here, one that I don't deny permeated my childhood. And he wouldn't deny that it is a lingering issue for him, especially in relation to family. Even in my college angst days when I carried a lot of anger for my father, I would acknowledge that he taught me valuable math skills and trained my mind for logical and analytical thinking. Dad showed me how to use an imaginary black board in my head to do math problems, a visualization ability that later came in handy when learning to drive. After one time behind the wheel of our stick-shift red Honda Prelude I went to bed and imagined each step. Next day I was driving like I had lots of experience.

Isn't it so interesting that I can't even finish a paragraph about anger with anger? As my friend Nikki would say, I LOOOVVVVVE IT! There was a lot of anger, past tense, but not anymore. In college I expressed my anger and demanded his apology for past hurts. In young adulthood I accepted the limitations of our relationship, mourned them and tried to accept it.

One of the many gifts of my relationship with my husband is his encouragement to really fulfill the mitzvah of honoring my father. At the start I resented him pushing me to call more, couldn't understand why Jeff wanted to pick Dad up from the airport and drive him around all day, thought he should leave well enough alone, or just leave me alone on this issue. One day I'll write more about it, for now simply stated I'm grateful for his influence. Bit by bit I started seeing my dad differently, understanding his challenges and appreciating his efforts.

During my twenty-four hour trip to Florida to bring my Dad back to Chicago for treatment he needed to know that I wasn't still mad at him. I hugged him and said “I forgive you Dad.” It was true and complete.

Only six years ago when Dad was coming to Chicago for some occasion I set a 3 day boundary on his stay in my home. Now I welcome him into our home. He is living with us indefinitely and it is a gift. As he said, there is a silver lining to his illness, that is spending time getting to know his grandchildren, and also trying to know us, his children. There is only love and affection with us and our children. Seeing our girls run up to their Saba (Grandfather in Hebrew) with open arms is precious and watching him teach them tricks is a treat I will always treasure.

Today was day 11 of the Omer.
Tonight is the 12th day of the Omer, which is one week and five days.


For you: Think of someone you need to forgive, or have already forgiven. What tricks and teachings did they gift you? What positive things were part of the relationship? How can you forgive the rest? If appropriate, can you continue to grow the relationship? If the relationship is over, can you let it go with love, cherishing the gifts and learning from the hurts? How can you just let it go? Decide to forgive, say the words, and let your heart follow.