Last weekend (Sat. April 13th 2013), while my family went off to our relatives’ country house in Plymouth for the weekend, I whittled away time at home, whacking away at myriad projects and goals; some planned, some unplanned, all fantastic.

The first morning, I received this text from my husband:

Breakfast

My daughter basking in sunshine with her Big Girl Cousin Olivia over breakfast.  Not bad!

And later that day I got this one of her napping at the beach, Clever Girl!

Daddy = Bed

As the weekend progressed, and I got deeper into fruitful progress (and perhaps my husband’s enthusiasm waned a bit for my staying behind), I did not receive any more photos, but these two were enough to sustain me.  (Refinished a cabinet, rearranged furniture, CLEANED and repaired stuff, excavated work space, got through mail, paid bills and *finally* started my *actual* work.  You know, the administrative underbelly of my *JOB.*)  The clock was ticking on my family’s return and I had finally made it to the productive sweet spot of work, when…

Two Deadly Bombs Rock Boston Marathon

By the time they were to head home from Plymouth, two deadly bombs had exploded at the Boston Marathon finish line.  Fortunately none of us had followed through on notions to go down to the race as we sometimes do.  And with 30 state troopers screaming past them on the ride home, they returned home to me, completely safe and unharmed.

Lying in bed with my daughter that night, letting my body melt all around hers as she strong arms me around the neck (seriously; did not know a one year old could be so strong, or possess such fierce determination to snuggle), the only place for my face was beneath her check.  So I drank in the ambrosia and breathed in her essence, reeling from exhilaration, relishing that this right here exactly is precisely as good as it gets, recognizing some people never have such a perfect moment in their lives; that this could be my final happiest thought in life.  Then, while wondering if she had yet drifted off to sleep, her cute voice rises up and says, “YAAAAAAAY!”  Then she laughs, and I laugh, and she settles in to mock deep breathing with me, which I don’t know if it’s more adorable or hilarious.  Does anyone know what I’m talking about?  As a certain incomparable Hungarian theatre school classmate of mine once called it,  ”Huge Crazy Love.”

As that subsides, my son, from the top bunk above us, reaches down over the side of his bed to teach me how to make a bow and arrow out of my fingers.  He holds his hand as a target, assigns each digit a value, and instructs me to shoot.  First shot, 39 points.  Then a miss.  Then I land on his palm.  Infinity points!  Another miss.  Then 22 more points.  ”Wow!” I say, slightly fececiously, “39 plus infinity plus 22 points!”  ”Yep,” he says, “That’s a googleon hexalon,” he says.  ”Um, wait,” I wonder, “Is that real?”  Although my understanding of Montessori method is minimal, i do know  they teach exponential quantities of numbers to be, “Always knowable.”  But not necessarily to the dumb ass parents.  What was knowable was how endearing it was he also had a spot on his hand that incurred a penalty; of ONE point.  So that makes, “One googleon hexalon take away one.”

Fast forward through an epoch tickling episode and finally suggesting perhaps a more sleep-friendly activity, Gavin proposes to sing me a lullaby… that he makes up; “I’ll make it up, with my brain.”  Two intoxicating Huge Crazy Love episodes in one night?  Yes, my son wraps his arms around me and serenades me in this little angel voice about loving each other and being there for me and “once I have my hands on you I’ll never let you go-o-o-o,” and more.   Lest I get too lost in the ambrosia (kids are always jousting you; intentionally, wittingly, unwittingly, or otherwise) and I was invited to make one up as well.  Overcoming my hesitation and coming up with something, when I finished, he approved, “Good, Mom!”  (Thanks, Honey!)

Bow & Arrow Fingers

Let me not underestimate the extent to which our city getting bombed today made all this all the more intensely sweet.  I dunno.  I am pretty much amazed on a daily basis the relative security and luxury we enjoy compared to… I dunno… like, the ENTIRE WORLD;  Baghdad, Sudan, Afghanistan, Haiti…   My humanity is shaken and my feelings are hurting for my city and the guests who suffered unthinkable results –3 (dead), 140+(injured) & 10(amputated) is the current count as I write– and I think it’s a profound shame that the dark side of humanity rears its tyrannical head so destructively, AND it’s a total shock to have it happen on US soil and in your OWN TOWN… but I DON’T think it’s *unfair* that it would happen here as opposed to anywhere else.  Being *born* privileged, and living a privileged life does not in fact entitle you to those privileges (to the exclusion of others).

Such as… in this case, soon BOTH my kids were sleeping and yet *I* was still awake, AND so was my husband for a few minutes of togetherness yet.  Please do not underestimate the rarity of the confluence of these events.  Although no doubt heightened by the bombing, I believe tonight would still have been the same sweet victorious night in our lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky, blessed, reunited micro-enclave just the same.

If only there were a way to test the theory.  Hmm.  Wait, I’ve got it.  My family just needs to GO AWAY again.  Just for a couple days again.  And no bombings this time.

Honey…?

Despite her best efforts, comedian Julia Sweeney is forced to tell a little white lie when her 8-year-old begins learning about frog reproduction — and starts to ask some very smart questions. (Recorded at TED2010, February 2010 in Long Beach, CA. Duration: 5:16)

[5 mins, 16 secs... with a little nonsequitor cartoon after that for some reason]

As I said to my mom, WOW.  Look where even really excellent parenting can lead you.

Speaking of which… today, Maria -my daughter’s childcare provider- kindly shared with me a “complaint” she had about ClaraJane.
She say: “ClaraJane no play con other children….” (She is Dominican, with a loud, velvety voice, and rolls her rrrrrrr’s like chocolate)  and she proceeded to demonstrate to me how instead of playing with the other children, ClaraJane regularly *chokes them.*  Except for the one baby there of course, whom she generally strangles.

!!!

“Um… I don’t know what to do about that,” I said, “But I will ask our family counselor!”

Lately I have become accustomed to saying this phrase in responses to reports of untoward conduct in our (almost 5 y/o) SON.  Now it is my (almost 2 y/o) daughter.   So… I guess it runs in the family?

Um… I don’t know what to do about that either.  But I will also ask our family counselor!

PS:  Check out the *comment* below to see my mom’s killer advice!

Tuesday April 10th 2013

While Paul made the usual really nice dinner Gavin cuddled with me on your wonderful couch for his five minutes with IPhone angry birds and taught me the basics, and ClaraJane and I discussed Signing Time and practiced making letters of the alphabet with our hands.  At dinner ClaraJane deployed her “baby bird”mouth  signals for inserting mouthfuls of food and Gavin learned about artichoke eating and how to go easy on the garlic sauce.  Gavin then asked nicely to be excused and invited me to do some sketching at his desk when I finished dinner.

When I was excused and joined him he had set up paper and a lovely set of crayons on his desk in readiness for our sketching session and offered me the best seat, the one attached to the desk.  Unfortunately I am still too large to fit there despite having lost 28 pounds since 2006, according to my doctor at a recent office visit.  So we traded seats and I sat on the adjacent bench. Gavin told me the history of the desk, that it was yours when you were little in California.  (Close, right?)

You can have the good seat, Grandma

Gavin then proceeded to create a lovely spring scene on paper, even doing a good job of placating ClaraJane, who wanted to participate, or at least interfere.  He started with a tree, with a hole in it for a nest for birds, then an adjacent beehive and nearby flower garden with flowers in bud and flowers fully open, so the bees could gather “nectar to make honey.”  He had me draw lines of bees visiting flowers and he made them look much more beelike with black stripes.  Flowers need sun, and rain. Rain needs clouds.  I showed him how to make a flying bird in silhouette, and he added a branch to the tree so there would be another place for a bird’s nest.  I drew a baby bird in the nest with its mouth open for food and he asked me to write “chirp! chirp!” beside it.  Then we put in some wobbly baby birds trying to learn to fly while their parents hovered overhead encouraging them.  He asked me to write his name in cursive starting with an uppercase G and we showed the finished creation to Daddy, and put it in a place we hoped you would see it, too.

I saw it!

On the drive from Normandy to Windsor Gavin asked whether “Never World” with Captain Hook is a real place.  I explained what I could remember about the Peter Pan story and Neverland and Pixie Dust and how it was a wonderful pretend story where children could fly and boys never grew up, and Wendy sewed Peter’s shadow back on and Captain Hook’s hand was bitten off by a crocodile who had swallowed a clock.

Never World

We talked about the relative merits of growing up or staying a child and how being a child all your life might sound fun because you could just play and be taken care of, but you would miss so many interesting things about growing up, such as learning to read and doing all the things you learn as you get bigger.   And the Lost Boys didn’t have any grownups telling them what to do, but on the other hand, there was no Mom and Dad to take care of them.  And Gavin wondered how they got food.  We speculated about fish and fruit.

PARENT = FOOD

At Tobin Amanda arrived to pick up Miles at 3:30 since she’d had 6 hours of sleep on call. First the boys hid from us under the benches, per usual, this never gets old, then they became zombies and then cheetahs and attacked us.

A Typical  Day

They both rode with Amanda and we all went to Normandy.  Amanda had sidewalk chalk and the boys learned about hopscotch on two legs and then one leg, and then how to draw the hopscotch grid.  Neighbor Nick came home and the boys generously invited him and his roommates to use the Hopscotch grid any time.

You guys can use this any time

The basketball needed air and we didn’t have the needle adaptor for the bicycle pump, so no dribbling, but in the soccer ball low air didn’t matter as much, so Miles kicked that around while Gavin put on a helmet and rode the Razor.  James brought sandwiches out once he finished his phone interview and they got ready for a bike ride while Gavin and I drove to Windsor.

Gavin was charming, sharing, and kind all evening without even a mention of a feather.

Flamly Symbol for Bravery and Kindness

♥Thank you♥ Mom!

PS:  And the next day, a la mode, he drew this:

Spring by Gavin, a la Bubble Wow

[2 mins, 31 secs]

TO MOM AND DAD LOVE GAVIN

And it is EXHILARATING!

I normally do everything I can -within reason- to avoid getting caught doing pedestrian things in my costume.  But the more of a mom I become and the busier my performing schedule becomes (thanks to my new Event Manager/Whip Cracker Sari… thank you Sari)… I guess I just did not think much of it today.  That is:

Today I was still in costume after a show but with such a full dance card for the short remainder of my day that I decided to f* it and run some impromptu errands before even going home.  There I am heading to “IParty” in hopes they have the face paint I need, when two guys in a truck stop to ask if I would like a quote on repairing the dent in my car (which, incidentally, is exactly something I would like).  Before I can even say yes, one of them goes, “OH! You took care of my boys!! You work at Polcari’s right!?” [My weekly restaurant gig.]  …”I tried to get you for my son’s birthday! But now my other son’s birthday is coming up,” etc. etc.

Fast forward half an hour and I have two guys fixing my car RIGHT THERE IN THE PARKING LOT, and my next lead for a gig in May.

MEANWHILE, grabbing a coffee at Starbucks, same thing; “Do you do parties? OH!  I saw you at my daughter’s school. I tried calling you last time. Her birthday’s coming up again, can I have your card?” etc. etc.  Another lead for later this month!

On my way home I stop at Whole Foods.  At check out I get the usual, “So what do you juggle?” conversation, which is fine but not surprising.  Then someone behind asks,  “8-6-7-5-3-0-9?“

LOVE IT!  So refreshing and so classic.

For any of my few dear readers who don’t already know, my costume does include a polkadot dress, striped socks, a fabulous hat and a big SIGN on my back that says, “www.Jenny the Juggler.com.”

If you DO know me then you know I don’t like being in costume any more than necessary (b/c thankfully it is necessary so much)… but today was full of so many unexpected rewards that I have no regrets.

Other than I *just* got home and I *still* have to change and it’s *already* time to go start collecting my dern kids.

Quoting my brilliant mom:  “Life is good.  There’s just so much of it!”

Amen.

[Tommy Tutone - 867-5309/Jenny, 3 mins 43 secs]

I WiNT SlDiNG

I went sledding.  I had fun.  I went really fast!  Me and…

Me AnD MiMOM

Me and my mom.  My mom pulled the sled.

********************************************************************************

Nice of my boy to do my blog for me!  I would have photo/videographed it myself but alas the best moments happen off camera (as they should).  All the same, here are the before and after bits: [55 seconds]

Preluded by my daughter a few days before.  As the blizzard assumed it’s choke hold on the region -state of emergency, travel ban and all- she tiptoes through the tulips with nary a care: [29 secs]

LAST Wednesday morning when I asked him, “How was your time with Bubble Wow?”
I got this:

Two Thumbs Up

So blessed we are to have Grandma in our midst.  [THANK YOU MOM, for suffering the slings and arrows of moving back to city life and being here with us so regularly!  It is a richness I can hardly articulate, and will always cherish.  Thank you Wow Mom, Bubble Wow!]

And on another note, yes, that’s our new *home* in the background; that beautiful church.  We *live* in there!  It’s going on 3 months and I can still hardly believe it.

Here -for my enjoyment- is today’s account of last night’s adventures:

“You be my lovey and I’ll be your lovey”

we are chinese if you please

Yesterday’s Adventures with Gavin and Miles:

Hid in Liz office, Katie extracted Gavin 10 minutes early.  He greeted me sweetly and said “I haven’t finished my pop-up!”  So I said go back and finish and I’ll wait, knowing that probably meant two boys, not one.

Boys had many logistical questions requiring me to explain every detail of the situation, but when given the choice Miles elected to go with Gavin and me for ice cream rather than Aquarium.   Gavin said “ice cream might be a bad idea because we are freezing.”  He has trouble keeping his coat on at the right moments so no doubt he’s colder than Miles in general.

So once both were coated up (Miles puts on and zips his own coat in an instant – “my mommy teached me”) and buckled in, pop-up projects put away in backpacks, we went to the destination I had in mind, the neat-looking shop called “Concord Street Cafe” that has “ice cream and sushi” painted on the building.  However, the Chinese proprietor had no ice cream (“it’s very cold”) and a cash only policy, so that was dead on arrival.  Two doors down (probably same proprietors) was House of Chang, so we invaded.

The place was empty midafternoon and an old Chinese lady talking on the phone would not look up or acknowledge us behind her “wait to be seated” sign until I started for a table.  From then on she alternated between her phone chat and shushing the boys.  The more she shushed the louder I let them wax.

However, a friendly young Chinese lady with very little English fell in love with Gavin at first sight and couldn’t do enough for us or keep her hands off Gavin.  We had scallion pancakes, chicken fingers, ginger ice cream, and she showered us with fortune cookies to the delight of the boys, and insisted on zipping up Gavin’s jacket when we left.  (I gave her a big tip.)  She asked if they were “brovahs” (much like ClaraJane) and they proudly said they were cousins and described all their other cousins and siblings for good measure.

The boys asked why the people looked “different” and I explained how popular Chinese restaurants are with most people, and we discussed the terms “Asian” as against “Chinese,” “Japanese,” etc.  They loved the elegantly folded napkins and recognizing them as a form of orgami wanted to know what the shape represented, although it was merely a pyramid, nothing exotic like a crane.

The bathroom was nice and well-used by the boys, with sensor-controlled water and soap.  The door was very heavy and to prevent “getting locked in” I was required to be inside the bathroom but “don’t look.”  Miles initiated his usual conversation about “what if we had to live in this room” or “how many people could get in if we had a birthday party here”, a theme whenever we find ourselves in a small space such as the vestibule of my house or a bathroom in a bookstore or restaurant.

Much discussion of upcoming birthdays, party themes, relative ages, and the like.

We reloaded in the Fit and returned to Tobin to meet Amanda at 4:25.  We chatted while the boys wrestled in the way back.  Toward the end they embraced and we heard one of them say “you be my lovey and I’ll be your lovey.”  Gavin invited Amanda to visit “my new house.”

Gavin and I then drove to my house while having a discussion about generations and whether I would be alive when he is a grownup, and we agreed probably not but wouldn’t it be interesting when he has children of his own and his mom and dad will be the grandparents, and how when his kids have children he will be the grandpa.  And how I would like to meet his children but probably wouldn’t still be alive, but he would remember me and the good times we had.

He said then the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me:  ”We will still love you even if you’re dead.”  And I said I would still love them, too, even though I was dead.

On Forest he wore his new apron for making hot chocolate (his idea) and painting bioluminescent sea creatures. Gavin asked for more information about the “rich people” who lived in my  house before it was made into condos and chatted about high ceilings, given he has the highest ceilings of anyone.

I asked to choose some of the books to read when it came time for the reading nook and we laughed over “Giraffe and a Half”, while CJ shuttled between being in bed with Dada and helping Gavin and I read, and Gavin ate the ice out of my martini.  Then I tucked them all in bed and started down the hall and CJ chased me down for one more hug.