The Weeks Without Esther

Every month, Esther goes to see her dad for a week. It involves a lot of travel (which costs a lot of money), but for a million or so reasons, it's what we do.
These weeks totally make me understand the Elizabeth Stone quote:

image from http://www.projectsweetpeas.com/

When my heart has traveled to a different time zone in a far-away state, my soul feels instantly deflated, darker, and less whole. I am grumpier, more tired, more sarcastic, and my sleep cycle becomes (even more of) a mess.

On the other hand, in the week before Esther goes away, I remember that she'll be gone soon, so I try to soak her in and snuggle her more.  And in the week when she gets back, I am so relieved and joyful that my heart has returned, that I revel in her presence.  (Of course, I still have to tell her to stop banging her spoon on the table, and I still have to remind her to use her words, but, I get to tell her to stop banging her spoon on the table! She's here, and she has words she can use!) In the week she's away, I think I'll be glad to sleep through the night without the weird noises from her monitor, or her crying out in the night or talking in her sleep.  But really, I miss the buzzing and the little mumbles. 

The darkness? depression? of her departure each month make it hard to do what I promised I would do: make time to take care of myself. You would think I could be more productive without my two-year-old around, but it's not true. I sleep. I zone out into my computer. I don't even sew/craft/knit more when she's gone.

I know this needs a change in attitude, a change in perspective.  I imagine that if I am intentional about doing things for me in this week, then maybe I'll begin to be a bit more ok with it. Maybe someday I'll appreciate the time, but I'm not there yet. 

Things I never thought I'd say

1. That's enough broccoli.

2. Please take the marker out of your nose.

3. Please put your poop down.

Spirituality of DFTBA 2: So is Everybody Else

For Lent this year, I'm trying to make DFTBA (Don't Forget To Be Awesome) my spiritual discipline. Inspired by the Vlogbrothers and Pigtail Pals & Ballcap Buddies, I'm considering what DFTBA looks like for me and for my two-year-old daughter, Esther.

In the Spirituality of DFTBA 1, I talked about how God (or a miraculously minute statistical probability of existence) makes you awesome. You are fearfully and wonderfully made, you are created in God's image, you are supremely good. Don't forget-- you ARE awesome!

Here's the catch: so is everybody else.

I know, I know, if everyone is awesome, doesn't that mean that nobody's awesome? No. Because awesome means "awe-inspiring." It doesn't just mean "cool." And let's be honest, everyone is not cool. Thank God. But everyone is that statistical improbability, everyone is designed uniquely in the image of the divine, and everyone's existence should inspire our awe. Everyone is awesome.


This belief, if we truly internalize it, has far-reaching consequences. On one level, it could easily influence our immediate relationships. There's a good chance we already think the people we love and adore are pretty awesome. It's part of why we adore them. But we often take them for granted and forget their awesomeness. I'm thinking especially of family and sig-oths. Living with someone and spending time with them day-in and day-out sometimes allows us to overlook the awesome and focus on the annoying. What if we remembered their awesomeness more often? What if we told them about their awesomeness on a regular basis?

Right now, I live with Esther and my mom. I am still stunned and amazed by Esther's awesome on a regular basis-- when I remember she used to be just a blob in my uterus, and now she's speaking in (short) sentences and and asking me to snuggle... I tell Esther on a regular basis how amazing I think she is. My hope is that she'll grow up and believe it. But I don't say much to my mom. I tell her "thank you" for the stuff she does to help me (which is a lot, by the way), and I am grateful for her presence and influence in my life. But I often forget to think of her as awesome. She is awesome, of course-- she's smart and funny and creative and one in a bazillion, and she loves me and Esther fiercely. Unfortunately, I think I take that for granted as we live together. I'm sorry, Mom! You are awesome!


Other relationships like co-workers or friends could also be improved by an attitude of DFTBA. I had a co-worker who was so chatty that I was afraid to step into her office if I was in any kind of a hurry. Her story-telling used to drive me nuts until I realized she wanted to over-inform for fear of under-informing me. It changed my perspective, helping me to realize she was being awesome by going above and beyond in trying to help me. I still had to carefully time my visits, but I also knew to say, "that's just what I needed," as a way to end the conversation and thank her for her help. Reminding ourselves of our co-worker's (sister's/friend's/teacher's) awesome won't make his or her annoying go away, but it changes our attitudes toward him or her.

Even the people we encounter in a nominal way on a daily basis are awesome. The cashier at Target, the librarian, the next door neighbor, the bus driver... they're all created awesome in the image of the divine. This is India Arie's description of seeing everyone as awesome.


The next entry will be about even-farther-reaching possibilities that come from remembering that everyone is awesome.

Concrete tasks for remembering everyone is awesome:

• Give someone a genuine compliment every day. It will make you come up with a reason you think they're awesome, but it will also pass on the awesome.
• When you pray, give thanks for someone.
• Listen to the India Arie song above while you're on your commute. Look at the people around you and remember that they're awesome.

Prayer:
God, thank you for making me awesome. And thank you for the awe-inspiring people in my life. Thank you for ___________________, who showed me awesomeness today. Help me to see you in the faces of your people with whom I interact. Amen.

Trip to Philly

Esther and I went into Philly last week for V-Day.  One Billion Rising was V-Day/The Vagina Monologues' huge worldwide movement. One of my best friends helped plan OBR, so I just HAD to go.

For the sake of adventure, and also to avoid all the drama of parking in the city, Esther and I took the train. She's a fan of Thomas & Friends, so riding the choo-choo was very exciting.

Yeah... she looks excited, doesn't she?






OBR took place at Love Park, home of the famous LOVE statue.  It was the first time I'd seen the statue, and I have to tell you, it was smaller than I expected. Of course, we still took a picture!

It's in a historical and touristy part of town, right next to the Visitors' Center and City Hall. The City Hall has an archway underneath with four sculpted columns. Each column is decorated with a cluster of people holding up the ceiling at the top... they look like four stereotyped races of people. I can't decide if it looks more like historical racism or a symbol of inclusiveness, but I think it's some odd old-fashioned well-meant combination of the two. At the top of the arches between the columns were four animals, a bull, a lion, an elephant, and some other strange cat/wolf-like animal that Esther decided was a pig. She kept pointing at this thing, which truly looked like a werewolf, and saying, "Oink, oink!"

Across the street is the Mason's Temple. I kept thinking of Dan Brown and Nicholas Cage.

As we walked around the block, we came across Macy's. Macy's isn't so exciting, but it used to be Lord & Taylor, and before that, Wannamaker's. Wannamaker's was a huge department store, nine stories of retail in the middle of the city.

It's also where my great-grandmother Esther worked. She was a seamstress and dress-maker in the ladies' department. She took the train from Frazer, her family's farm, into Suburban Station. The art deco station is right around the corner, and the arrival point for many folks from the suburbs who came into Philly to work.

Esther and I went into Macy's to get a glimpse of the place where Grandmom Esther used to work. It was another place I'd never seen in Philly. It's famous, historic, and connected with my family... I'm not sure why I never went before!

Wannamaker's was in the movie Mannequin, a 1980s classic starring Kim Cattrall before she became Samantha Jones. It has this giant eagle sculpture which is also a landmark. There's an expression, "Meet me at the Eagle," which was a catchphrase in advertising in addition to being a useful way to find a friend when both are done shopping.

Mr. Wannamaker wanted his store to be in itself an adventure and a landmark and an experience. The pipe organ that Mr. Wannamaker built is the largest operational organ in existence.  It had a restaurant and fantastic tile and marble architectural features. He had President Taft dedicated the re-build, and there's a marker on the floor where he stood. Macy's has redone a lot of the walls (something about taxes and square-footage), but there are still some pretty cool historical features and fixtures. Macy's only uses three stories of Wannamaker's nine. The rest were sold as office space. It's likely that Grandmom's work space was on a higher story, and has been remodeled.

Some friends I hadn't seen in a long time met us in the city and we enjoyed a delicious dinner. Esther was a bit out of sorts after the long day, but calmed down a bit after one of those friends took her for a quick walk around the block in her stroller.

We caught the train from Suburban Station and headed home, where Esther passed out in the car just moments after pulling away.

GREAT grandparents

One of the best things about moving back to my hometown is the opportunity for Esther to have lots of time with her grandparents, who are great. Yesterday was an especially fabulous grandparent day. After swim lessons, Gram took us to a local pond to feed the geese. Esther had a blast calling the "Quack-quacks" and "Honk-honks" and throwing "bed" (bread) at them.

Later we went over to Grandma and Grandpa's for dinner. This included lots of eating and lots of playing.

After dinner, we came home (Gram's house) and I ran out to yoga. So Esther got to stay up a bit late, enjoying ice cream and an impromptu photo session when Esther picked up a picture frame from one of Gram's art projects.

I am so thankful for great parents turned great grandparents.

Separation Anxiety II

The Switching Hour: Kids of Divorce Say Good-bye Again
This was the book that I thought was going to help me with my separation anxiety during all of Esther's switches back and forth between my home and her dad's home. As it turns out, it is a reminder of all the ways the "shared custody lifestyle" affect kids with divorced parents. The author reminds parents about the anxieties of kids before the switch, during the switch, and just in general-- having a two-part life. She talks a little bit about the ways those anxieties manifest themselves in the kids' behavior, but she's not really talking about toddlers like Esther. For Esther, I know what it is: a hard time saying good-bye the first day back at school, a hard time saying good-night the first couple nights back with me. Her eating is still pretty good, and she still mostly sleeps through the night.

The author also includes some worst-case scenarios which increase my likelihood of not sleeping through the night: suicidal kids and abusive co-parents. Fortunately, I'm not actually worried about any of that right now.

While a lot of the book is guilt-inducing and depressing-- am I ruining my daughter's life here?-- I know that re-reading it every now and again as Esther grows up will be good for me. The reminders of what not to do: don't bug your kid about what the other parent is up to, don't ask your kid to play messenger between parents, don't talk bad about the other parent, etc., are wise. While my most rational self does a good job with these, it can be pretty easy for irrationality to step in with such emotional stuff as my ex and my baby.

Grandmom Esther

My mom's water heater flooded the basement recently. Unfortunately, this resulted in a bunch of wet family artifacts. The silver lining is that Mom went through the artifacts and she and the rest of the family are getting to look through this stuff for the first time in ages (or even the first time ever!).

Most of the images I've seen of Grandmom Esther (mental or photographic) have been of her in the nursing home, old and frail. There were a few of her in various homes for birthday parties when I was super-young, but even then, she was in her late eighties.

This one is from Halloween when I was super-young, I don't have a memory of this at all.

(See the water damage in the corner?)

So it was pretty exciting to be looking through the pictures and run across pictures of Esther as a young woman. 

Here she is with her parents-in-law on the stairs of someone's home.

In naming my baby Esther after Grandmom Esther, I somehow feel closer to Grandmom Esther. I hung a picture of her over baby Esther's crib and it reminds me that she is looking down on her.

Separation Anxiety

Separation anxiety is a regular part of growing up. It happens whenever a child takes some step that further differentiates her/him from her/his parents. So when Esther really got the hang of crawling and when she started walking, for instance, she also developed some separation anxiety.  The anxiety comes from a lack of feeling safe in the world without the "safe one" or parent.  Of course, she eventually learned that she is basically safe when she crawls into the other room: I am still in this room and still here for her. Same with walking, except, of course, when she walks into stuff or off of stuff...

Separation anxiety also rears its ugly head when I really am leaving her somewhere. Sometimes she would cry when I left her in the church nursery (not often, she eventually thought it was her own playroom with bonus friends), the times she first had to start or change a day care, and especially at the YMCA (that one is another story for another post).

Lately, with the back and forth between her dad and me, I've been worried about separation anxiety for Esther. She's also beginning potty training, which is one of those, I'm-growing-up-so-I-need-you-less-Oh-my-God-where-are-you?! things.  Being the book-lover that I am, and knowing she's too young to just sit down and talk it out, I am once again resorting to books.

Most of the story books in the separation anxiety department are about young kiddos going to school. Esther  (after the first day or two of surprise that she's in another new place) loves school. When I drop her off, she starts saying bye-bye immediately and keeps at it until I can finally get her coat off, hang it up, and get out the door. She is like a twelve-year-old. I'm pretty sure her first sentence will be, "Um, mom, can you just drop me off here, I'll walk the rest of the way." Or, "Ew, mom, don't kiss me in public!"

Anyway, school isn't our problem. Our problem is, she's away from daddy for a few weeks at a time and then she's away from mommy for a week at a time.

I Love You All the Time  is cute. It chronicles two bear parents doing things throughout the day, like going to work, being on the phone while bear cub is looking bored, and bear cub going to bed. It reiterates, "I love you all the time," and cubby is reminded, even when parent-bears aren't paying direct attention to you, they still love you.

You Go Away is another one that covers the gamut. It starts with peek-a-boo, which is the beginning of addressing separation anxiety, because baby really does think you've disappeared behind that blanket. It goes on to hide-and-seek, stepping away from the grocery cart for a second, going to work (parents), going to school (kiddos), and finally, mom and dad go someplace on an airplane. It has the most simple language. "Away. Back" "You go away. You come back." This allows for me to interpret what Esther and I see.

The Kissing Hand is sweet but maybe a bit too old for Esther right now (we read it anyway). In it, the Mama raccoon is getting the baby raccoon ready for school, and baby raccoon (cub? pup?) is sad to leave Mama behind all day. She kisses his paw and tells him that whenever he's missing her, he can hold the paw up to his cheek and remember her kiss is there. It's really sweet. There's one confusing thing: raccoons are nocturnal, so baby goes to school at night. I don't know why this messes me up, but it does every time! Also, there's a really sweet/cute (ok, and also predictable) ending, which I will not spoil for you here.



That is just the start. I'm a book-a-holic, and some part of me thinks I can fix anything with just the right picture book. Esther has at least two more, and I bought one for myself that arrived in the mail today. I'll let you know what I think.

J

Our Story So Far

Esther's dad and I are splitting up. I know it can't be easy for Esther, but it's not like we can sit down and have a big long chat about it. But she loves story time, so I made her a story book.

I did it on snapfish.

The gist of Our Story So Far is that both of her parents love her, and we're doing the best we can to help her be happy.

She loves pointing at the pictures and telling me who's in them. Me and Daddy, herself (she calls herself Daddoo-- I think it comes from us saying "that's you!" in pictures or the mirror), her grandparents, and a whole spread of the key characters in her life. She requests it each night by shouting, "Daddy!" or "Daddy Mommy!" (There's a picture of Daddy and Mommy on the front cover.) It's usually second to "Dum Dummy."  : )

Gram's Cookies II

Here's how they turned out! They're not exactly right, according to the family elders, but they're the best we've come up with so far.  I was skeptical of the raisin and date filling, but it's just a sweet center that tastes quite good! Family dinner is the 27th, so we only have two more weeks to figure it out...

Gram's Filled Cookies

Somehow I managed to get a recipe box that contained my grandmother's recipes. It only had a few in it-- she didn't cook much-- but the hand-writte, food-spattered index cards are pretty special.

One recipe was mentioned by my uncle on Christmas day.As you can see, it's Gram's filled cookies. Gram is my mom and uncle's grandmother, my great-grandmother. My uncle claimed these as his favorite cookies and so we're trying to decipher it before the next family supper.

The ingredients are straight-forward, but there's no description of how to assemble the cookie and filling. When Uncle Paul tried it, he ended up with something that looked like a puddle on a cookie. So I added a bit of extra flour to thicken the dough.

They're in the oven... I'll let you know!

Her Name

Esther is named after my Great-Grandmother, Grandmom. This is her and me just after I was born.

Grandmom is baby*-Esther's mom's mom's dad's mom (follow that?). She grew up on a farm not far from here, a farm that was fairly recently sold to become parkland. She had a strong faith, and I hold on to her marked-up Bible and a crucifix that was hers.  I remember visiting her in the nursing home as a kid. She had osteoporosis and other other stuff, but I was too young to know much about that. She was always so sweet, and seemed happy to see us, in spite of the fact that we were three kids under the age of seven (at the oldest). She died at age 91 when I was in second grade, and was the first person I knew to die. It was kind of traumatic.

On a slightly cheesey note, I made up a song when Esther was born. In my defense, not much rhymes with "Esther."


There once was a mommy and God blessed her

By giving her a daughter she named Esther.

She brought such joy to her mom and her dad!

Every time she smiled, it made their hearts so glad.

There one was a baby girl named Esther.

She was a special girl because God blessed her

With beauty and smarts and talents and such,

And a family who loved her very much!

Mommy’s great grandmom was named Esther.

She was a special lady ‘cause God blessed her

With a long life and a strong faith too,

And that’s just what your mom and dad wish for you!

Any other moms out there make up cheese-ball rhymes to sing to their kiddos while rocking/breast-feeding/begging the baby to go to sleep?

xoxo,
Jeannie

*OK, toddler.