Family – Page 3 – My Truant Pen

With iron pen and with lead

My family was here for Christmas. My mother and father and brother joined my husband and sons and I in the cold turning of the year. Puzzles were solved. Puddings flamed. And even in the cold of New England winter, my mother and brother would put on their coats and boots and go for a walk.

A statue from Lindenwood. — A statue from Lindenwood

I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed the walking and talking. We took long turns around the Lindenwood Graveyard, where I walked when I labored with my youngest son. In between pointing out my favorite gravestones (Yes, I know it’s weird that I have favorite gravestones. Whatever.) we talked. We talked about family history and lore. We talked about my brother’s new call and pastorate in Denver. We talked about the boys and how they were growing. We talked about my sister and her family and how we missed them.

“You know,” my brother said “Some people think I must not care much about my family, to be willing to move so far away from them.” We laughed.

“Well,” I pointed out, “We four families do now live in all four continental US time zones.” I can see where someone who counts on proximity and constant familiarity would look at the facts of our family and think us unloving and unconcerned. Nothing could be further from the truth.

And then we turned to Job. I’m reading the Old Testament in my Humanities Book Club. This is the club that brought me Herodotus and Thucydides. We’re on year five and semester three. Semester three includes selections from the Old and New Testaments. It doesn’t say, in it’s lovely calligraphy, just what the selections are.

So as the resident Christian, I was nominated for the picks. What do you select? If you need to give a cultural grounding in Christianity based on readings of the Bible, what do choose? What do you leave out? Do you follow the lectionary and disavow all knowledge of Chronicles? That’s where the really good stories are! You must read Genesis, of course, but can you understand modern conservative Christianity without Leviticus? Of course there have to be the Psalms. And if you don’t read Isaiah, the New Testament will feel more random than ordained.

For the first session, I decided to stick to the Pentateuch. That led to a long discussion on whether God was in fact cruel for hardening Pharoah’s heart. It is an interesting thing, as a born and bred Biblically-saturated Christian, to start from scratch in explaining the God of Jacob to someone who has never read the Bible, and is starting at the beginning. The Old Testament God is much harder than we remember in our Sunday School lessons.

So after that, I had to tackle propose that we tackle Job and Ruth. Ruth because Ruth is the very definition of faithful love, in my book. Job because I love Job, and I think that Job speaks to one of the great questions religion must answer: why do good people suffer and bad guys do well?

That’s what I talked to my pastor mom and pastor brother about there on the hill between the tombstones. Job, and what Job tells us in his hard but beautiful poetry.

Oh that my words were written down!
Oh, that they were inscribed in a book!
O that with an iron pen and with lead
they were engraved on a rock forever!
For I know that my Redeemer lives,
and that at the last he will stand upon the earth;
and after my skin has been thus destroyed,
then in my flesh I shall see God
whom I shall see on my side.

Job: 19:23-27

As I explained to my mother and brother, what I love so much about Job (in addition to the words which are some of the best poetry in the Bible) is that it takes that great problem of understanding WHY God chooses to do what He does, or why there is suffering… and basically replies that the answers are beyond our understanding. Thane said to me the other day, “I wish no plants would ever die, mom.” I look at the glory of a flower, and I understand it. Isn’t it sad that the daffodils fade in the matter of days? That the glory of the spring lilacs is so fleeting? But do you not, fellow grownup who has studied any part of biology, understand that if no plant ever died… the entire planet would cease to function and we along with it? Well, perhaps so does God look at his creation and understanding it in a way we cannot, and sets it upon courses that we, with all our wisdom, cannot understand.

Then the LORD answered Job out of the whirlwind: …
“Has the rain a father,
or who has begotten the drops of dew?
From whose womb did the ice come forth,
and who has given birth to the hoarfrost of heaven?
The waters become hard like stone,
and the face of the deep is frozen.”
Job:38:28-30

In other words, “What do you know about any of it? Nothing!” I find that liberating. I don’t understand because I can’t understand because I am not actually God.

Grey and I were recently watching NOVA (again – the third episode) and it showed how the universe was at its most orderly at the moment of the Big Bang, and with entropy comes increasing chaos and unpredictability. I found myself struck by the thought of an omniscient, omnipresent, immortal presence. After a certain amount of order, the first few eternities, wouldn’t you be tempted to create a moment of chaos – of free will and chance – out of your order just to be delighted for a moment by the joyful and chaotic complexity? It does not mean you do not rejoice in the daffodil’s bloom – to the contrary – but autumn is a marvel too.

So this I explain to my kinfolk.

“Well,” pronounces my brother, “I always thought of Job as the ultimate book of messianic prophecy.” (This earned him a say-whaaaa? My earlier snippet aside, there’s not a whole lot of Messiah going on.) “Job,” expands my brother, “when he accuses God of being an unfair judge, wishes that there was someone who could argue his side against God. “There is no umpire between us, who might lay his hand on us both. If he would take his rod away from me, and not let dread of him terrify me, then I would speak without fear of him.” (Job:9:33-35) “That right there is what Jesus does for us, and what grace is for us. Jesus is the umpire, and grace is the taking away of the rod of judgement.”

Huh. Ok. Cool!

“You know,” says my mom, “Job was never my favorite book.” And we talked instead of the New Testament, and the calling of Christ, and how hard it is to pick hymns when you need to get the bulletin done.

We walked together, hands in our pockets and breath glimmering in the moonlight, and were a family headed down the hill and back towards home.

My family’s two pastors at my brother’s ordination. The bald one in the middle and the lady standing next to him singing.

Looking back at 2013

The boys at the Harvard Museum of Natural Science

I’ve been procrastinating on writing a year in review post for over a week now. It feels a touch overwhelming to actually think through the past year, never mind coherently present it. But I put a link to my Christmas card to my blog with a promise that you might be able to replace the stunning content of the Christmas letter with the blog, so here you go.

Thane at 5:
Thane is astonishingly still in preschool. With an October birthday, he’s spending more or less the maximum sentence in preschool. My youngest son is incredibly bouncy and exuberant, with flying limbs and bouncing feet. At 90th+ percentile in height, he continues to outgrow his gross motor coordination. Happily, he couples this with a durability, toughness and focus that shrug off all distractions, such as pain and parents. He is a picture in persistence. He loves Legos, and forces his fingers to make the most intricate Lego creations. I think one of my favorite things in the world is to listen to him sing to himself as he puts together a puzzle or a sculpture. He always wants to help me cook, and has laserlike-focus on understanding particular questions.

This year, Thane did swimming lessons (which he did not like), soccer (which he did), aikido, cooking classes, science classes and Lego League (he was too young, but I snuck him in anyway). He prefers unstructured time to activities, so I’m careful about how much I ask of him in terms of following rules and toe-ing the line. He has begun reading slowly – very phonetically – which he finds hard work. He loves macaroni and cheese, Scooby Doo and his dear Puppy.

Thane is sweet and funny and affectionate. He thinks hard about the world around him, and asks questions to understand it better. He is wholly a delight!

Grey at 8:
This year has seen a great flowering of Grey’s skills and abilities. He was irate that on our Christmas cards I included my blog, but not his Wacky Wonder Comics blog. He’s arrived at the shores of an age where he can do some things better than I can. He can certainly draw better. Of all the many interests he pursues, his drawing is the most persistent and pervasive. He makes Pokemon cards, comics, doodles, sketches, etc. He spent his Christmas money on some “real” art supplies – an easel that takes up his desk. After a time playing with one of his friends, I discovered a collaborative art project the two of them had created – without my help.

We are still looking to see what Grey’s great abiding passion may be – perhaps art – and are exposing him to many things. He enjoys outside activities more than his brother, which makes it easier. This year we tried basketball, swimming lessons, aikido, guitar lessons (still doesn’t want to practice!), baseball camp (a surprising success), soccer (Greece had a great year!), Lego League, and a Scratch programming class. Grey had a really tough spring, but over the summer and fall he rediscovered his emotional equilibrium and grew his resilience.

Grey likes lots of things. Legos, screens in all their many capacities (especially video games), art, rough-housing with his friends, games, books (especially comic books) and some sports. He has done stop-motion-Lego movies, comic series and extended card games of collaborative creation. At afterschool, there is a complex social society of Lego Houses, where the kids have in depth discussions about proximity, gear, style, creation and welcoming.

He might have read a LITTLE too much Calvin and Hobbes

Grey is a very complex, joyful, fun kid. I find myself very interested in his thoughts, and what he has to say. I look forward to being superseded in more skills every day!

Brenda (me):

This is what I look like in my mind’s eye. A less-expertly wielded camera might disagree.

I had a really good year this year. A lot of the changes for me were at work. I got two promotions, and am in a role now which requires my full capabilities and energy – and travel. It’s actually a great feeling to have a job that needs all you have to give, but that gives you the support to do it. I was trying to remember everywhere I went in 2013. I think the list looks something like this:

New York
Chicago
Minneapolis
Ft. Lauderdale
Los Angeles
Dallas
Atlanta
Troy MI (Detroit) 2x
Montreal (for fun)

I think that’s it. Many of these trips were for only a day or two – the one-day-red-eye to California being particularly notable that way. On the home front, we also took shorter trips to New York, Connecticut and went camping three times!

My personal life is just about as full as it can be. If I add anything (like say exercising more) it comes at the cost of something else (like socializing, sleeping or seeing my kids). There is very little optional relaxation I could cut out, so new years resolutions become like a zero sum game. I must stop an activity to add an activity. That said, I worked a lot on guitar this year, although I’m not notably better. I enjoyed cooking some pretty terrific meals. We gamed more or less weekly this year – we were a bit better than normal about it! I took a lot of pictures, but I do feel my blogging has suffered lately. I’d like to be a bit more consistent in the new year. I attempted a new blog – Technically Pretty – but it required too much research for me to keep up with it. I was less active in church than usual, which is likely to change in the coming year as we seek for an interim pastor.

I’m also taking a four week course on photography, which has already improved my skills! I can hope it will continue to do so and provide some ready-made blog fodder for the next month!

I don’t usually hike wearing a dress, but this was a special occasion.

Adam:

The biggest news of Adam’s year was the closing of the dojo. Sensei became a father. Running a dojo, being a dad and having a day job were one thing too many. Adam earned his first kyu in aikido prior to the closing of the dojo. So there was much aikido until July… and then there was none. We’ve all been enjoying having Adam around so much more, but I think the new year may bring a new activity. He wants to do ballroom dance, which I think sounds like a blast. Adam continues to run our weekly game, and is raising two very fine gamers.

If asked, Grey will inform you that he played quite a role in the building of the bar

Adam also built out an addition to our porch to make it much more usable. The windows are very high, so a person seated in a chair could not see out. Adam constructed a gorgeous maple bar (with help from Grey) to which we added some stools. Both Adam and I have loved working and gathering there! He also launched a mobile application at a company sponsored forum which was a serious success, and of which he is very proud!

Data and Tiberius

Grey spent most of the spring and summer earning 170 “Chore checks” in order to get a new cat. The house seemed empty with the death of Magic and Justice, but I wanted Grey to have ownership in a cat, and to actually do the work of pet ownership, so we set a high bar so he could actually show me that he would be capable and consistent of cat care. The moment finally came over Labor Day, when we went to a shelter and found a bonded pair of brothers we really liked. The name Data had been pre-ordained. When we met his swaggering, over-confident, rather corpulent brother, the name Tiberius suggested itself. (There are two kinds of people, the kind who automatically know why Data and Tiberius might go together and the kind who, when the relationship is explained, cannot believe that anyone knows that.)

A few weeks after we brought the boys home, we brought Tiberius in because he wasn’t looking well and discovered that he had a very serious – life-threatening – condition. It would require massive effort and outlay, but if we made it through, his prognosis was to live a full and rich life again. I wrestled considerably with the right solution to this issue, and we did end up having the procedure. After that, he had to be tube fed up to 5 times a day for about a month. He threw up a lot. It was a grim period, and he came within a day or two of me deciding that his quality of life was not worth his suffering. But he pulled through and now is a completely happy, healthy cat with some odd bald patches that are already growing in.

A very sick cat being ministered to by two loving little boys

Data and Tiberius are excellent cats. They’re outgoing, friendly, and have wonderful litter box compliance. (It’s the little things in life that make the big differences.) Tiberius is always in the middle of the action, and Data would happily reconstruct his life to be Adam’s scarf. We’re enjoying them greatly.

“This looks like a great place for a nap!”

That’s where we are at the turning of the page of the year. Where does the new year find you?

Data and Tiberius

Grey's cats Tiberius and Data — Grey’s cats Tiberius and Data

I’m sure you all remember a few weeks ago, when Grey earned the 170 required checks to prove to us he was responsible enough to get a cat, who he was going to name Data. We came home a little early from camping, and Monday morning of Labor Day we were ready to go find Data. The only shelter open on Labor Day was the Northeast Animal Shelter, so that’s where we went. It was a really lovely shelter. The cat rooms were fantastic. I almost felt badly about taking the cats away from such perfect, lovely rooms!

It was Western Day at the shelter. — It was Western Day at the shelter

Oh right. Cats. Plural.

Well, we found Data. He was this beautiful, friendly, affectionate seven year old black cat. (His original name was Salem.) He was perfect. Just one thing, he had a bonded brother, Simon. They were a team, and only went together. Now you might think that putting two cat carriers into the car was an admission on my part that I thought this might happen, and you’d be right. Simon, or Tiberius as he quickly was dubbed (for, you know, James Tiberius Kirk), is a big, outgoing, adamant orange tiger.

In case you were wondering, the cats’ full names are Tiberius Milkstache Flynn (seriously, check out his moustache coloring!) and Data Android Flynn.

They spent a week in Grey’s room. The cats are apparently unaware that cats should eat cat food. They have turned their noses up at the very high end wet and dry food with which they have been provided. But Tiberius especially likes to eat bran flakes and pretzels. (Not that we let him, but that’s his preference.). Neither is particularly interested in playing with cat toys, but (of course) Tiberius loves playing with computer cables. I’m hoping we can eventually convince them to eat cat food and play with laser pointers and little kitty wands, but these things take time. The two of them are finally comfortable enough to be annoying in that way that cats are uniquely skilled in. They seem to be very good with kids, although Data doesn’t like to be put into a dark room.

I have to say, it’s really nice to have cats in the house again! And Grey HAS feed them every day. Win!

Data the Cat

In 2012, both my dear cats died. Magic died of an illness, and Justice died in an accident. We took a break from pets after that (kind of enjoying leaving doors open and not having a litter box, if I can be honest). Grey, a seven year old, strongly remembers his cats as beloved. Since about Christmas, Grey has been on a full court press to get another cat. And I will confess, for all my logistical challenges with cats, I miss having a cat in the house.

So I sat Grey down in the dark of winter and told him he could have a cat if he could *Actually* prove to me that he would provide the daily care for the cat. This is not an easy bar. So often with kids we have pro forma promotion – if you just kind of do the work you get the pass. But in this case, it wasn’t just about him going through the motions… I actually needed to believe that he would (most of the time) take care of the cat.

We settled on a proof of responsibility, and Grey named the cat in his imagination. The cat is named Data. I’m not sure why he picked Data, but as a geek I have to love the name. I imagine a robotic but affectionate feline. Grey has spun stories and yarns about his future, to be cat, and talks about readying for Data.

We set a chore chart on the fridge. The deal was that at 170 checks (the target was selected by my son) I would get him a cat. The checks were a mix of easy and hard, dos and don’ts, which evolved over time. At first, I had trouble thinking of five or six chores that Grey could actually do. Now I have more chores than checkmarks on the board – several of them being actual things that make my life easier if he does them. He got up to about 120 and then decided to spend a bunch of his points on Skylanders (a video game). But he got right back up on the horse and worked on earning his checks.

The chore chart is great for setting expectations, reminding him of his chores and helping with long term planning and arithmetic.

Finally this week, with a marathon day of chores, Grey got his last check mark and reached the 170 mark. It was reality. Grey had earned Data.

Now, this is not actually the best time of year to bring home a new cat. Grey is headed off for Camp Gramp in two weeks (how does that happen, that summer flies so fast?) We have one more four day camping trip before school starts. I’d rather wait until we were here all the time. But somehow I found myself perusing the adoptable cats at the local shelter, and I stumbled across this guy:

Mud Pie- unfortunately he doesn’t have the right personality for our home

All together now, “Awwwwwww!”

He’s a little young for my tastes (I’d actually rather have a two year old cat), but he is SO DARN CUTE. Last night, Grey and I went to get the cat gear we’d need. Then we came home and filled out an application for adoption together. I’m waiting to hear back from the kitty’s foster parent to see if we can set up a time to meet some of their cats. I do want to make sure that proto-Data will be a personality match for our family.

Baseball and the mysteries of children

I’m still at the “introduce your children to every possible hobby” phase of parenting – at least with my firstborn. There are so many wonderful and rewarding hobbies to be had, and so many of them are picked up as young children. Thane, my sweet little four year old, is already getting a little long in the tooth to ever be an ice skater or Olympic gymnast.

Anyway, you all remember me talking about sending Grey to basketball during the winter. Both boys have been doing aikido since their fourth birthday – sadly not past this summer. But I’ve also signed Grey up for: dance classes (the recital led the the worst picture ever and an intense desire never to go to a dance recital again, on my part), cooking classes, science classes, swim classes, basketball, soccer, guitar lessons and one single piano lesson.

No way no how is he doing anything that involves rink times on MY watch. So in an attempt to try yet one more sporty thingy, I signed him up this spring for a three day baseball skills camp. His teacher at school said that team sports might help him feel more like a participant instead of an onlooker at recess (I hated to let her know that reading at recess is a dominant trait and one that was passed down to Grey on both genetic lines – but I took her point). So in a fit of ambition, when a thick packet of summer camp sporty type things came home sometime mid spring I found one that was happening while my mother-in-law was here and blithely signed him up.

And forgot about it for a few months.

Now, for those of you who have not met him, Grey is a pretty sensitive guy. He dislikes physical pain and discomfort (as opposed to my youngest child who would probably keep on playing through broken bones if he was having fun). He really hates having people make fun of him. And periodically he has been known to display a bit of a persecution complex. These traits were particularly pronounced towards the end of school, so I was feeling particularly uneasy about this “Baseball skills camp” I had signed him up for.

I pulled back out the Xeroxed form, so terse. Here I was, handing my was-a-first-grader-yesterday over to this camp, and for requirements it said: “Bring a baseball glove, shoes or cleats and a refillable water bottle.” That’s it. What about lunch? I read the text at top “Blah blah blah Varsity baseball coach blah blah learn skills in small group settings with focused coaching blah blah six to twelve years old”.

Holy valhalla. What had I signed my kid up for? I imaged his last few complaints in the ears of the High School Varsity Baseball coach. And he’d be about the littlest kid there! He wouldn’t even get a day to chillax between school and baseball! And he’d never played baseball before! I took him to Target to pick out his glove.

“Mom, this glove is too tight! Mom, this one pinches! None of these (23 options of) gloves is going to fit my hands. My hands are a size 3.* These are all the wrong size! Mom, I don’t think I should do baseball tomorrow.”

Ah. Hm. There we had it. I almost agreed with him. Instead, I rang the help button and got the much-aggrieved-Target-guy (who had already not-sold me a stool that was displayed but not for sale) to size Grey up for a baseball glove. But I wondered… was it the stupidest idea ever to send my kid to a three day, five hour, all guy, all skills baseball camp in the sweltering heat when most of the kids there would truly be working on their swing or their fastball? Oh, did I mention not a single one of his friends was going?

I sent him anyway, counting on having my mother-in-law a mile away. I can’t say I didn’t spend the entire day waiting for the “Come pick your son up” call. But soon it was a quarter to two. It so happened I could pick him up that day, so not able to wait any longer I drove to the high school and after some mystery managed to locate my son. There he was, playing catch with one of the “assistant coaches” (read: members of the varsity baseball team).

“How did it go?”

“Great! I had a great time. I want to do this again next year! Hey, mom, I promised coach I’d clean up. Let me finish getting the gear.”

And that’s how it went, for three days. The second day, he was just coming in from the field as I drove up. One of the other kids sort of pushed him as he was going into the dugout, in that ambiguous way that boys have. Oh no, I thought. Is Grey stomping off the field? No, his team was just batting. He sat on the bench next to the other kids, easy in their company, until it was his turn. He was the last batter. He stepped up to the plate. Swing and miss. Swing and miss. Foul ball. (And this is the kind of baseball where three strikes actually means you’re out and you better go sit down.) Then he hit a grounder to first base and ran it out hard. He grabbed his gear and came out grinning.

“I hit a single and a triple, mom!”

Well, I’ll be. He loved it. He wants to go back next year. He did three days of hard work, hard listening, hard skills. Things he didn’t know with people he doesn’t know. And there was ZERO whining. (This from a kid who will say he’s too tiiiiiiired to go alllll the way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and can’t he skip it for juuuust one night?)

I will say that this taught me a lot. Obviously, I had underestimated Grey badly when I stood in Target and wondered if I should even attempt this. It makes me wonder if his sensitivity might be because things are not challenging enough for him – if when presented with something that’s truly hard he revels and steps up. Maybe it’s the things that are repetitive and predictable that he finds difficult. Or maybe I should just stop stereotyping bald, muscular varsity baseball coaches as not in tune with the emotional needs of their pint-sized charges.

Whatever it was, I am so very glad that we tried this experiment. I don’t know if baseball will be Grey’s “thing” (I wouldn’t mind!). T-ball is unfortunately a really awful scheduling match for working parents, but if that is what he comes to love, I’ll make it happen. But I’m so grateful for three days that helped me see how strong and capable my rising-second-grader really is.

Interregnum pictures

One of the joyful advantages of some time off is that I’ve had a chance to use my nice camera. In fact, I bought a digital photography book and have been reading it. Another nice thing is I actually have time to pull the pictures off in a timely manner. So here is three days worth of pictures (over 450 before I weeded them!).

Enjoy!

Merry Christmas from Legoland

Little Lego set before heading into Vampyre castle

The house is full of little boys yelling out “Wow! Cool!” and “Sticker help, mom!” Grey is on bag six of seven of the Lego Vampyre Castle, and Thane has completed “Spider-Man’s Doc Ock Ambush”, “Genosian Starfighter”, “Space Police” and is attempting to open “Droid Escape”. Suffice it to say, we’re having an amazingly awesome Christmas morning.

As I waited for the kids to fall asleep last night, I pulled some pictures off the camera. These include Grey’s Christmas concert and Christmas Eve at Grandma’s house with Cousin Alec!

Pictures here!

Puzzle Master

Thane and Adam puzzle by the light of the tree

I’m not a huge puzzle-doer. Years have elapsed without my doing a single puzzle. But this time of year, I get the urge to do puzzles. It comes back to family. You see, this is the time of year when I have multiple, unscheduled days with people to whom I am related. My sons are no longer in need of constant babysitting, nor have that toddler’s impulse to destroy all that is laid before them. (Although they are forces for chaos and entropy – you should see what happens to a formerly clean room SECONDS after they enter it.)

My family, during my teenage to young adult years, would often do a big puzzle when we all came home from our far-flung lives. There was the massive medieval sayings puzzle (still a favorite!), the three golden magi puzzle (so much of the same color!) and others lost to the mists of time. The glorious thing about a puzzle during the holidays is what it does for the family. Done right, the puzzle is in a place where people pass and invites them to linger. One person sits down to see if they can finish the horse’s head, another person joins them. They sit together, in companionable silence, or chatting. There’s no pressure to “make conversation”, but the conversation likely ebbs and flows. They are not trapped behind a screen or page – mentally isolated from the others around them. But neither are they thrust into the chaos of the activities that swirl around the holidays. And when the holiday is finished – if the puzzle is too – there is a shared sense of purpose, activity and accomplishment. And there are a wealth of small, shared minutes together.

I realized this, of course, when I had a baby and such an activity became impossible. Sitting quietly became an aspiration. Small pieces that could be lost? Inviting tragedy. I longed for the chatting and conversation and the careful piecing of puzzles.

My brother was born on December 20th. My grandmother came to stay that Christmas during my mother’s wait. Family legend is that when my mother went in to labor, she refused to go to the hospital until the puzzle was done so that my grandmother wouldn’t fret. As a consequence, the delivering doctor barely beat my brother to the hospital. (Hey mom – what puzzle was that? Did you save it?)

Impossible puzzle with bonus: a picture of me I like!

This Thanksgiving, I thought it was TIME. My four year old, who might be the Destroyer of Puzzles, is actually a great puzzle aficionado. (He calls himself the Puzzle Master.) Indeed – he’s a bigger contributor to even a 1000 piece puzzle than you might consider likely for a preschooler. At Thanksgiving I reviewed the scant grownup puzzle options in the cupboard. There was a 600 piece mosaic puzzle, a thousand piece snowman and a 400 piece satellite photo of our neighborhood. I’d been looking forward to doing the neighborhood one, and figured I could have some fun roping my neighbors into joining me, so pulled it out.

OMG. It was the hardest puzzle ever. The colors were practically identical. The pieces were barely differentiated in shape. It was the Bataan death march of puzzles. We had many “false positives” that were extensive to unwind, and nearly went blind peering over the puzzle. Adam and I stayed up WAY TOO LATE one night to finally finish it. Such a sense of accomplishment! We took pictures. Which was good – Grey accidentally destroyed it the next morning looking at it.

This Christmas, I planned ahead and bought a (hopefully much easier) thousand piece Christmas scene. We’ve set it up just off the living room next to the “gold tree” with floor pillows. The family wanders past and does a section, then wanders off to play. My sweet Thane – prince of puzzles and shapes – sits next to me and pieces together the scenes. He needs help organizing the pieces to get sections together, but his sense of shape, color and fit is astonishing. We sit next to the glimmering tree and sing Christmas songs together, chatting.

The cycle is renewed, the wheel turns, and the new generation takes up the strains of the old.

Alex, Adam and Thane consider the puzzle

New Years Resolutions

Grey shows off his Legos on a sad Friday night

First, a few words about the unfolding horror in Sandy Hook Elementary. Like so many, I know about and deeply disapprove of many of other horrors: the mass rape and killing in the Congo, the drone strikes in Pakistan and Afghanistan, the ongoing scourge of inner city violence. But those all seem distant and abstract: chronic, unsolvable problems. But Sandy Hook comes very close to home.

My son is a first grader, seven years old. He was sitting in his first grade class on Friday morning with his first grade teacher and his young classmates. The kids who died were exactly like him. The same age. The same safe, suburban setting. Loving parents. Capable teachers. No enemies. The only difference between Grey and, say, Benjamin, is that Grey is still here and looking forward to Christmas. (Grey knows about the shooting, of course. His response was, “But mom, they didn’t even get to open their Christmas presents!”) There was absolutely nothing those parents or teachers could have done to prevent this from happening to their children – and there is nothing I can do to ensure it never happens to mine.

I am so, so, so sorry for the families that lost their loved ones. I hope that we can have sensible discussions about what weaponry should be available to civilians. I hope that we can improve access to mental health care, and support families raising mentally ill children more effectively. I hope we change our news coverage to de-glorify the commiters of these atrocities. I hope that this helps us work towards the safety and innocence of all children everywhere, including in war-torn Congo, “collateral damage” in our war on terror, and in our neglected communities. I can see myself in the weeping of those parents in Connecticut. I need to see myself in Syria, too.

Finally, we all are reminded that life is fragile, precious and never to be taken for granted.

So I shake myself off and make dinner. And as I’m making dinner, I contemplate my Most Successful New Years Resolution Ever. Two or three years ago – I forget now – I resolved to serve a vegetable with every meal. I also resolved to not be too picky about what the vegetable was. One brilliant piece of parenting advice I got when I was younger was that if I want my kids to eat vegetables I should not skimp on the cheesy sauce, ranch dressing, salt and butter. Trade the nutrition (and habit) for the calories. I can gradually reduce the sauces as the kids get accustomed to the taste of the veggies, but they’ll keep the habit of the vegetables for the rest of their life. I think, within reason, this is true.

And more or less every meal I’ve cooked since that resolution took effect, I’ve had a vegetable on the table. Grey now professes to like broccoli, carrots, corn, tomatoes, asparagus and brussel sprouts. He’ll eat the first four even when not asked to. Thane has been a harder sell. The kids are REQUIRED to eat one polite bite of the evening’s vegetables, and he’s slowly being overcome by repetition. And importantly, I’m eating a lot more vegetables too. When it’s right there on the table, I’ll have a serving or three.

A key to continuing this resolution has been ease. I have seasonal methods of making sure it happens:

Summer
We are part of a farm share, and during the summer my ‘fridge is full to overloaded with turnips, carrots, greens, peas, beans, squash and purslane. You start planning your meals for maximum produce consumption as you stare at the veggie crisper that ate Stoneham. Sheer abundance has required us to try veggies we’d never tried before (we’ve come to adore radishes, and discovered that brussel sprouts are excellent). It’s also dramatically reduced the cost of attempting to feed your kids veggies. I mean, produce can be expensive. Would you really buy a five or seven dollar bag of produce that you don’t think your kids will eat, especially if it only looks so/so fresh? Maybe not. But when that obscure produce is in your fridge and is going to go to waste unless you do something, you’ll prepare it and not care so much if your kids only have a bite or two – or even if none of you like it.

Blurry carrot eating kids. Grey picked out the veggie for this meal.

Winter

By the time the farm share season is over, I am _done_ being innovative. I do not want to try to think of recipes that require kale. I want something super easy. It turns out that – for once – marketers have heard my plea! There are massive selections of steam-in-bag veggies available in the supermarket. Many of these veggies are nutritionally excellent: frozen veggies and canned ones can actually be better than fresh ones in the Supermarket, because they can be less durable varieties and are packaged closer to prime. And you cannot beat the ease of use on these: buy, put in freezer, remove from freezer, nuke for 5 minutes, serve. You can get unseasoned and seasoned ones. And each bag of vegetables costs somewhere between one and two dollars: a pretty cheap slug of produce compared to fresh prices. Convenient, tasty and cheap TOTALLY works for me, and has made it pretty easy for me to keep up with my old resolutions.

So, how about you? How do you get your veggies? What prevents you from getting veggies? What’s your most successful New Year’s resolution ever?

Sons and brothers

At some point, as a parent, you come to realize in a non-abstract manner that your multiple children are, in fact, siblings to each other. This seems obvious. If you and your partner have two sons, then those sons are brothers. This is how it works, right? But there comes a moment when you watch the children you bore and love interacting with each other, and you realize… they are BROTHERS. What a fraught, laden word that is. How powerful. How overlaid with history, legend, tradition, meaning and poetry.

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:

Shakespeare – Henry V

My sons are both old enough now, at 7 and 4, to be real people, and to have real personalities and real relationships. Perhaps the most remarkable of those relationships is the one they have with each other. Thane, at four, is still little enough to sort of take things as they come. Grey is a fixture in his life: the unfairly-good trader of Legos, the master of comic-drawings, the owner of the right-hand-seat in the car, the bossy one. Grey is the person who is always in his day and in his life, and without whom life would not be complete. Thane has never gone so much as a day without his brother. But you don’t think too much about that, if you are four. Grey is a fixture, an assumption in Thane’s life.

Boys with ponies. Both of them had very sticky-upy hair the next day.

Grey, on the other hand, sees his brother clearly, and understands what it is to be a brother. The other day Grey was over the heat-vent in the kitchen working on his homework, I was at the dining room table and Thane was in the living room playing with Legos. Grey, oh so old, raised his head from his 1st grade papers and said to me, “I love listening to Thane play. He’s so cute. He has a great imagination.”

Grey gives thane a “Good boy noogie” for eating a bite of his sandwich. This actually motivated Thane to keep eating.

Grey has, this year, discovered the truth about Santa Claus. I watched him as he listened to his brother talking about Santa, and what he hoped Santa would do this year. And I saw, writ plain on my son’s face, his sudden determination that nothing should take the mythos of Santa away from his brother. That night, he prayed that Santa would bring Thane all the things he wanted. Since then, he’s been an (over) zealous guardian – shooting me dagger-like glances and not-so-whispered rebukes for any remark that might lead to the unveiling of the mystery.

Thane and Grey wish you a very Merry Christmas!

My eldest son loves and needs his younger brother greatly. Grey hates, HATES to be alone. Despises it. It was always the worst punishment I could unleash upon him – to send him from the crowd into a quiet room by himself. Thane provides his brother a tremendous service by being another person. Grey is wily about talking his brother into coming upstairs with him when he needs to go up. Grey wakes Thane up in the morning to come down to breakfast with him. Thane prevents Grey from experiencing the horrors of solitude.

For a few months now, Grey’s been waking up in the middle of the night, scared. For months, I’ve woken up with him sleeping at the side of our bed – having snuck in at some point over the night. But the other day I went to kiss Grey good night and found his door wide open and his music blasting. He was entirely missing from his bed. He wasn’t in my room. I couldn’t find him. I went in to see where he was, and found him cuddled next to Thane. (Grey has the side next to the wall and away from the door. He assured me later that it wasn’t so that monsters would eat Thane first. Really mom!) And for the last few weeks, this has been how they have been. Grey goes to sleep much easier when he’s not by himself, with his imagination in his room. There’s no nightlight. There’s no finding him falling asleep on his Calvin and Hobbes. And the boys look so happy together.

Remind me why these kids have two bedrooms and two beds?

God willing, these two boys will have each other for the rest of their lives. In the order of the world, they will fight, slip information to each other, back each other up, stand up for each other at weddings, godparent each other’s children, complain about us at Thanksgivings, and finally stand next to each other – again – at our funerals, recounting their funny memories of their crazy parents. I hope they always have this friendship.