Sing, Sing a Song

I was listening to a story on the radio yesterday. I didn't hear much of it but it was an interview with a writer/songwriter. He was talking about a book he wrote and then the interviewer asked him whether he prefers writing books or songs more. He, with no hesitation said, they cannot be compared. He said singing is like fire and we do it from the second we are born. He said writing is a much more calculated process. I had never thought about just how primal singing is. We voice ourselves immediately out of the womb. Everyone's first sounds are not small whispered mubblings, rather, loud wailing and musical. What a wonderful way to start!

Music was always a big part of my household growing up. My mother, a classical pianist, taught piano lessons after school. During the day she was a music teacher at a school as well. My sister played violin, my brother the french horn, and I studied a bit of piano, and violin, but mostly I loved to sing. My mother and I were a duo from the time I was three. She and I would perform on stage in concert at my grandmothers senior group as well as for anyone in our house who would listen. I had a big voice for a little girl and I remember wearing a gingham gown and standing center stage in front of a sea of gray haired audience members. My grandma was in the front row always smiling at me. I loved her and it made me happy to see her happy.

At school I was part of the chorus and although I loved singing together with friends I was a hog when it came time to solos. I always auditioned to sing on my own and loved duets as well. My best friend and I did one together once for a recital and to this day she still sings parts of it on my voicemail for my birthday sometimes. As a teenager I would reenact my favorite ballads from Broadway musicals in front of the mirror. When I was most upset and heavy with teenage angst I felt singing was the single most effective way out of it. Classical was always on in the house or car and my mom would bet my sister a dollar if she could guess the composer. She stopped playing that with my brother and I. Either because she would have gone broke or we didn't know the answers as well. Can't remember which. Music was joy for me. It was the sound I remember most in my house, and anything traditional we did religiously or spiritually that has stuck with me today has only remained because there was music attached to it.

These days the music most played in my car or home is again of the musical theater kind. If my husband can help it he switches it to only the finest up and coming indie band, but he is overruled usually by my daughter and recently by my two year old son. Annie and Frozen are still top of the most played here. After January came and went I felt relieved to take a "Let it Go" break but recently when we played it randomly my little one became hooked. Now he asks for "Posen" all the time. Many have a love hate relationship with Frozen. I really thought I might scream if I had to listen to anymore, but then it would be on in the car and I would think I could tune it out and then moments later I am belting it out with my munchkins in the back seat. As a mother daughter duo Twig and I would sing the duets together this past winter and my husband from the side line would jokingly smirk and tell me I was living my dream singing with her. In response I would say "yes and your nightmare." I too can poke fun at theater geeks because it is an annoying group but sometimes they are having more fun than the rest of us, so its easy to be bitter.

The last few weeks after I drop my daughter off at school I take my son to one of the local parks. I have met a few nice moms, but I have met even more nice nannies and grandmothers. At two, my son is starting to interact more and more with kids his own age, so when he sees the regular park goers he is excited to play. Last time a few of us were sitting at a picnic table taking a snack break when I channeled my mother. One of the nannies mentioned how sometimes she brings books to read at the park and the next thing I knew I was running a mini song session with two nannies, a grandma, and four kids. I'm not exactly sure how we all started singing but we went through quite a repertoire of songs.

When a flyer came home last week for the elementary school choir at Twig's school I was relieved. It wasn't just happy and excited it was a relief to see that she could be part of something bigger than just she and I singing in the kitchen. That I wouldn't be the sole person holding the responsibility of her getting the opportunity to open her mouth to sing. Don't get me wrong she sings all the time at home but this opportunity to sing in a choir is special and even if the teacher sucks, singing together with a group of other children is special. She was ambivalent at first and then she realized how many of her friends were doing it as well, and she got excited. So Wednesday mornings we will leave extra early to get to school for choir. To and from school my son asks for "Posen" and 99% of the time I put it on for him. Just as I feel the need to scream from "Do you want a build a snowman?" countless times, his little voice chimes in with them. Each day he is gaining more and more words and yet the fact that he couldn't even say a full sentence doesn't stop him from singing a song. He has a great ear and can sing on key, he usually sings the last word of each sentence really clearly. It pretty sweet to hear. I tell myself when I get sick of the music I will be sicker when the day comes when he doesn't want to sing out loud anymore, because it will come. Hopefully before he becomes a big theater geek though.

Sing Out Loud, Sing Out Strong,
Don't worry if its not good enough
For anyone else to hear,
Just sing, Sing a Song!

New Girls

With all the changes come a lot of emotions. New apartment, new area, new school, new gymnastics. It's a lot for me to get used to, let alone my 6 year old. My little one just needs two or three days in a place and he will yell out "home" the second we turn into the driveway. In his short life he has already moved practically 4 times. My daughter is a lot more aware of how different her life is now. She loved Kindergarten and now that we moved, there was a lot of longing for her old school.

Kids are adaptable and will follow your lead on how big of a deal you make something. I have been working really hard on my poker face and showing her that new situations are exciting and an adventure. The truth is that I do feel that way but in the past my fear typically over shadowed the excitement. As an adult the stress and fear combined can be a distracting combo but this time I promised myself to stay positive. My close friend talked me into trying to take it all as it came. Boy did come at us this summer, with all the moves and unknown elements of where we would live. I took her advice and I am not going to say there hasn't been challenging moments but I am impressed with my stability through this process.

When my girl looks up at me and tells me she has butterflies on the first day of school, I tell her I understand. I really do understand because I have them for her too, but we are not becoming paralyzed by the fear. I am helping her replace some of the worry with excitement, (or as she says "distract me mommy") and she is already using coping tools that I wasn't able to until recently. Every new subject or activity that we heard about for her new school I would get excited for her and tell her how amazing first grade would be. Her poker face wasn't as good as mine, and she was fighting back tears. Her bravery impressed me though. It was hard to stand amongst a class of kids and watch them all say hello to one another in a more familiar way than she was able to. They all knew each other from Kindergarten and no one else seemed scared or upset.

Everyone has been really nice and friendly, even more so than at the school she attended last year. The big difference though is that we both had a close friend at the old school and don't really know anyone here. In this area I think she might actually be doing a bit better than me. She has found a few people she wants to hang out with. One of them she was a bit off on her judgement and at our first get together at this girl's house revealed that maybe she was a bit less sweet than she originally seemed, but she has navigated with the kids nicely. I feel a bit more lonely for my bff's lately. I know it takes time, but I am missing my cool interesting, edgy, smart fun friends. I am sure there are some people that exist living in this new part of town but I haven't met them yet.

I know it takes time, and the same message I am conveying to my girl, I need to heed myself. Little by little. It's only September and I heard from another parent last year that the adjustment to the new school year really settles in by Halloween. I think it's safe to say Twig will be more than at home by then. As for me, if I don't feel more settled by Halloween I'll be the one with the white sheet over my head.

Suckin' List

Suckin List

Before I forget all the words by children mispronounce or before they start saying things correctly I wanted to start a list.

Twig always said S’s instead of F’s so when we had a song playing once that was inappropriate for her then age 2 ears she would sing the lyrics “I saw it on the suckin' concrete!" She says f’s most of the time now so we stopped playing the song.

She does still call her fingers “singers”

Balloom instead of Balloon.

Strustrated

My little one who is just beginning to talk has a few words in his own language that we have all picked up

Dudnuh -- lollypop

Dahdun -- balloon

Ohnay-working -- when he sees anyone doing construction work

Mommy la -- me

Daddy la -- my husband

Aya -- his sister

Horphy -- horsie

Coursh -- of course

Yesh -- yes

Oh ma goodnesh -- oh my goodness

Was dis? -- Whats this?

I need to write these down because as one can see I don't have many words for my daughter as the cute mispronounced words are being replaced with "embarrassed" and "mommy don't sing" and the days of dancing in public just because are almost done for her. She has an awareness of the world around her in a way that he doesn't yet. When I take them scootering, she wants to fly down the street as fast as she can, while he stops and marvels at the twigs, leaves and roots of the trees. At the age of six, she day-by-day is becoming a little bit more independent, strong, and brave. As first grade begins I am trying to fathom how this day crept upon us so quickly. I felt like I just had her a few years ago.

There is a nagging voice in my head at times to "get my life back" and spend more time getting a job, a step up from the one I have now of wiping bums and counter tops, even attempt to change the world a little. I have to tell the voice to whisper every now and again though. I don't want it to go away completely but if it screams it will wake up my screaming toddler in the other room. I still have a two year old and soon enough he will be ready for first grade and then that voice and I can have a conversation. In the meantime I am trying to concentrate on the sound of my baby mispronouncing more and more words.

This is A Test

I remember being six years old and getting sick a lot. At a certain point my mom had to take me to get blood taken and the phlebotomist was a woman with really long, red-painted fingernails. She would pull my arm and use her long nails to trace my skin in search of a vein. I had a few of these done because I got a bad case of Scarlet Fever. I distinctly remember the day that I decided "enough was enough" and that maybe I had some say in the matter. The woman was holding my arm with those red nails and I decided to pull away. She grabbed tighter and the experience just went from bad to worse. I was already fighting though and I couldn't back down and just comply. Instead I turned it up, screaming, "No!", flailing my body and trying to pull my arm away. Tuns out when you are upset and you already have little, hard-to-find veins, putting up a fight didn't make it any easier.

I never seem to get over my fear of having blood taken. I don't mind needles if they have to inject medicine, but feel it is incredibly invasive to have a sharp object poked into my vein and take my blood out. Not to mention how squeamish I am and that the whole idea turns my stomach. As a kid when I heard that in order to have a baby you would have to have blood drawn throughout the pregnancy I decided I would adopt to avoid unnecessary needles. When I did get pregnant it was even harder to find a vein just confirming that there was actually truth to my fear. Being poked five times just to get a bit of blood doesn't ease ones' nerves. During my actual births I was able to convince the nurses to not take my blood before during or after labor. They seemed surprised I was okay with the pain of a drug-free birth, but not the prick of a needle. It was true for me though. I would rather push out a baby than give you my arm for blood. Call me crazy.

This past week when my six year old was given a blood test, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Five minutes before she had made the same fighter decision I had at six to fight with all her might during a routine TB test. It took two nurses and my whole body to hold her still for a tiny prick. How could they ask her to sit still for a few viles of blood. How would I help comfort her when this is such a huge fear for me? Right then and there though I had one of those selfless parenting moments where you realize the crap you could pass on to your kid, and that a better decision could be made. A decision that requires Oscar-worthy acting skills. A decision that could be mistaken for a lie if one really knew how I felt inside. A decision that could release her of any of my attachments I have to this, and help her feel brave and then proud.

She was afraid and wanted to wait until the next day but I bribed her with ice cream and a toy. I explained the sooner she gets it done the sooner she can stop thinking about it. I also explained to her how the whole thing was really no big deal, and gave her every detail of what she should expect, from the band around her arm to the cotton ball at the end. She seemed to take comfort in knowing what to expect. She believed me that it was quick and hardly painful. I said that it was okay to cry but not okay to move around like she did for the TB test. I promised to hold her and told her that when I have it done I like to be told a story while it was happening to be distracted.

When the time came for her she climbed up on my lap, put her arm out and watched them put the band on her arm. She began to cry a little and the phlebotomist asked if I thought she would sit still or should the other nurse come into help. I whispered in her ear asking if she could be still and she said she could. The tears were rolling off her cheek but she stayed still. I whispered a story in her ear about the bravest sweetest girl I knew and how very loved she was, she asked it it was over and the man said it would be just a few seconds more. I couldn't look but I could hear as he finished up and then it was over. She got her cotton ball and the hugest hug from me ever. I may have been a little lightheaded but she was a strong as ever.

While we sat and ate our hard earned ice creams, I was grateful that she handled the whole thing so well. I was proud of myself for not showing any of my panic, proud of her that she handled it so well and didn't put up a fight, and relieved that there was no red nail polish involved whatsoever.

Two Steps Back

This summer has been an interesting one, to say the least. Back in April 2013 we left the house we owned to move into a smaller apartment that offered some outdoor space and conveniences that our house didn't. We got a tenant for the house and she signed a year lease just like we did. The apartment was right next to the elementary school where my daughter would begin Kindergarten just a few short months later, giving all of us time to settle in.

It became clear pretty quickly that apartment living is not at all like living in a house and it felt a bit like my husband and I were back in our twenties. You could hear the neighbors on the side and above, there were apartment rules and a troll-like manager making sure we followed them. It didn't feel like ours and we didn't feel at home. Not to mention how we over-paid each month. So when our tenant gave her months notice at the end of her lease we took the opportunity to begin selling our house. Although filled with memories, as well as the starting ground for our family, we knew the house wasn't the long term home for our family.

While we were selling the house though, we couldn't afford to pay the mortgage and the rent on our apartment so we gave our months' notice. We had some interest on the house and even an offer from the first couple that saw it, but it wasn't close enough to what we were asking so we passed. We waited for Twig to finish school and then packed up our entire apartment in two days. That Monday my husband went to work and the movers came. As I packed up the last few boxes they began to fill their truck. It was a long day and a lot of work and by 9 pm that night we were back in our old house trying to get the kids rooms's unpacked enough that they could go to bed. My husband was getting cash for the movers and when he came in to my son's room he told me to stop unpacking. I thought he was telling me to stop for the day but what he was really saying was that he was just on the phone with an agent and our house, the one I had just moved into, was going to be sold! Typically this would be great news but in that moment all I could do was dig my fingers into the rug and bite my lip to keep from screaming.

Once I processed this news, I was happy we were selling but concerned for where we would go next. Even if we found another house or made an offer we would have to wait until that escrow closed. In between, we would need to find something and in between is exactly when the school year starts. So many questions about where will we live and what school will she go to.

We should have stayed in the apartment in hind sight but we had no idea that this offer would come in when it did. So here we are a month away from being out of our house and it is both daunting and nerve racking to not know what is next, yet we are back in our old house which is validating that it isn't the right place for us anymore. So at least we made the big initial move and the exciting adventure is still ahead. For now though, it feels like one step forward and two steps back and then a few steps into that unknown territory.

Summertime-East Coast Style

We just got back from quite a wonderful two weeks. We went home to New York City, rode the subway, visited friends, Twig and her Grandma saw "Cinderella" on Broadway, and the train-obsessed boy rode the subway for the first time. I didn't know his eyes could open as wide as they did that day. After the city we drove to the Berkshires where my parents spend summers and began the real summer adventures.

It is so important to me that my children experience the summers the way I did, even if it is only for a few weeks. The beauty of the mountains, trees and welcoming lakes makes memories forever. It just feels more like summer vacation with mosquitos and toasted marshmallows. We walked to the end of our driveway one night to see the big dipper, listen to frogs and watch fireflies. My kids couldn't stop giggling at the sound of the croaking frogs. We had all the time in the world there and it still flew by.

We spent Father's day together with my husband who flew in for the weekend, and with my dad. I don't remember getting to be with both of them before on a day to celebrate them. It was an extra treat. The kids and I made crafts for their gifts that included decorated office clips, bird paintings made from their footprints, and chocolate for each of them along with quite a few handmade cards. We went into town for pizza and it was so nice being all together.

Our days were filled by lake swimming, playground hopping, walks into town for ice cream, barbecues, and making sand castles. We saw friends from summers past and one day Twig put on a cartwheel show with a few other girls that was pretty impressive. It was also a trip for milestones. My mom got my little one to use the potty for the first time. It hasn't happened since but it was still exciting. He also said his own name there for the first time. The biggest change though is that Twig lost her first tooth after months since that first wiggle. She suddenly stopped questioning the authenticity of the tooth fairy. She put it under her pillow with a note and seemed to go to sleep that night a convert and when she woke to find five crisp ones, chocolate coins and a note back to her, she woke up a believer.

On our last day there my son woke up cranky from his nap. The three of us decided to walk to the farm across the road. We did this walk often as they have lots of cows to look at and they sell their own maple syrup. As we were walking up there was a farmer feeding one of the calfs with a baby bottle so we started to talk to him and he showed us a few calfs born a few days before. We had never seen such young calfs before. He showed us a few pregnant cows and when I looked I saw one that looked like it had must have given birth. When I asked him he said that they weren't due yet. When he looked again though he saw a brand new calf between her legs. She had just had her calf before we walked up but he hadn't noticed until I pointed it out. He went in and lifted up the wet baby and brought her out to us. She was shakey as she tried to stand for the first time. It was the first girl born that week. We were very grateful to get to witness that moment. It was a pretty special way to end our pretty special trip.

Where to?!

This is quite possibly the most unsettled I have been in a long time. Our house is on the market and we have an offer but we aren't exactly sure it is the right one. We have to give notice on our apartment, but if our house sells we want somewhere to live while we figure it out. The longer all of this takes the longer we risk having to pay both our mortgage from our house and our rent. If we don't sell we need to move back in the house until we get the right buyer. I'm exhausted from just typing all that and I haven't even packed a single box.

The flip side of all of this is that we have so much possibility right now. We could sell this house and go anywhere. Costa Rica would be a great place to spend a year, or we could home school our daughter and do volunteer work. We could invest in an income property, manage a building, move back to New York for a year. The world is our oyster. My husband and I spend hours on real estate sights searching for the right house, in the right school district, in the right neighborhood that we can afford. All those very normal requests but in a city like LA it is so difficult to hone in on the right place when it is both so expensive and so vast.

There are so many amazing areas in this city that I would live in in a heartbeat, but now that I have kids the priorities are different. So as this first school year for my daughter comes to a close I have been trying very hard not to get overly sentimental. She is in an amazing school and she loves it so it pulls at my heartstrings to think of moving her. At all of the end-of-the-year events at school parents and teachers are asking us if we will be returning next year. My answer is always, "I don't know." My girl might just be one of the worst candidates for switching schools, homes, neighborhoods since it is May and she still has a hard time saying goodbye to me in the morning. On the flip side, she never wants to leave when I pick her up. Kids are resilient though and I know she will be okay wherever we go, but I hope we can find a school as good as this one.

In the meantime we wait for news on our house, I am planning summertime trips and activities and playing make believe in my head about our next move. It could be just across to the East side of this city, or right near here, either way moving will be a challenge no matter where we go so we may as well just do Costa Rica.