Moose turns 1

Dear Ilan,

You turned one today, and more and more I find myself thinking of all the things I'd done for Roan by this age that I've never done for you.  Like mommy-and-me swim lessons.  Certainly those are a total waste of money and time spent in a bathing suit, but still, you would love them.  I've never made you a smoothie.  Not a single one.  I've never finger painted with you, or taken your handprints.  You've never been to the zoo, or the children's museum.

I've had exactly one playdate for you.  It was with two other babies in the neighborhood, the moms were both first time mothers.  I had a hard time relating to them.  All the things they talked about were things I didn't spend any time on, though I could remember overthinking all those same issues with Roan.  We had an extended conversation about weaning.  "How did it go?  Which feedings did you cut first? How did he react?  How did you feel?"  The questions seemed earnest and absurd.  I just stopped breast feeding you, and that was that.

Sometimes I get caught up on all the experiences I haven't given you, all the places I haven't taken you.  But you have Roan.

We turn boxes into trains and you sit inside them and Roan pulls you around the house until the boxes break, picking up toys and distributing them everywhere you go.  You "push" Roan around in your walker. You two play in the bath for what feels like hours, complicated splashing games that I don't understand.  You have huge matching dump trucks that you race around the room and bash into each other and and the walls and laugh and laugh.  At mealtimes you take turns putting your feet on the table, waiting for me to notice and scold.

There is a game you both love that I call The Wheelbarrow - Roan grabs your foot and drags you around the room backwards, you slide along your belly and sometimes on your face.  Occasionally he slingshots you across the room.  I hate this game and always put a stop to it, and when I do, both you and Roan give me identical guilty looks.  You both know The Wheelbarrow is forbidden.  It usually ends with you getting hurt. Yet I've seen you scooting backwards on your belly, offering Roan your foot, instigating.

I've realized: I may not be the same person for you as I am for Roan.  My parenting strategy has shifted.  I remember with Roan rushing from one activity to the next, not even taking time to clean up the messes we made because isn't it amazing how much fun Ro is having and yes let's totally switch gears from spin art to playdough, never mind that there are flecks of paint drying all over the chairs, who has time to clean?

I don't feel that way anymore.  I've made a rule that we have to clean up one activity before starting another one, and by the time we're done cleaning, you guys have usually forgotten about the new activity and wandered off to play the Wheelbarrow game on the sly.

Today, on your birthday, you refused to take your morning nap.  You were in good spirits, and we shopped for ingredients to make your birthday cake.  The plan was for you to nap in the afternoon and Ro and I would make the cake.  But you didn't take that nap either, so I put you in the Ergo so you could help.  Eli, one of Roan's friends, came over to help too.  With all this help, the cake took forever to make.

When it was finally done, we had a vanilla cake with raspberry, green creme cheese frosting, and raspberry and sprinkle toppings.  It actually tasted pretty good.  I made everyone smoothies, and then, after two more friends arrived, we lit the candle and sang happy birthday.  Roan opened your presents for you, and played with them for you too.  You were too delighted with the cake to care.

Sad face - I scooted the cake away from you

Eating a raspberry off your thumb

The Last Night of Channukah

Saturday night was the last night of Hannukah.  There's something very comforting about eating dinner with so many candles burning, and leaving them to burn down late into the night.  Each year that Hannukah ends I promise myself that I will do this more often, light lots of candles, when it's cold outside and I'm cranky, or when I just want to give myself a treat.  But I've tried, and lighting menorahs in February just isn't the same.  There's a certain magic and charm in knowing that people all over the world are lighting candles and spending time together on these nights, and have been doing so for thousands of years.

This was the first year that Hannukah and Christmas really sunk in for Roan.  We've been seeing Christmas trees and decor for weeks now, and eventually I felt it was time to explain to him that we are Jews, and Christmas is not for us.  I probably did this all wrong - I should have got some advice before launching into this conversation which I was completely unprepared for - because how do you break this kind of news, that sorry kid, all this widespread commercialized happiness is not for you.  Instead you get candles and latkes and eight nights of presents.  Roan thought it over for a few days.  Then he announced that he didn't want to be Jewish anymore.  When I asked why he said, "because Christmas is better than Hannukah, just a little bit."

We spent this Hannukah talking about all the beautiful and unique aspects of Judaism.  It was a shorter conversation than you might think, given my limited knowledge.  I also realized: maybe I don't care whether Roan chooses a Jewish life for himself.  I'm giving him a Jewish upbringing and education, and he can do what he wants with it.  Except, he wasn't allowed to discard it as a 4-years-old because of Christmas envy.  Thankfully, at the end of eight nights of presents and lots of stories, Roan seems more amenable to being Jewish.

We lit two menorahs this year, one that Roan made at school, and the bicycle menorah.  Roan's menorah was made from nine shot glasses with photos of him wrapped around the glass, and tea lights inside. Adorable as it is, the design is terrible.  A tea light shamash is useless, and on the last night I went through about 15 matches trying to get all the candles lit.  Since we won't be using this menorah again, here are some photos so we can always remember it:

Happy Holidays.

The Mountain Lion

We spent Thanksgiving in San Antonio, in 70 degree sunshine, with grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins.   Our first day there we took advantage of the sunny weather with a little picnic.  We packed mac n' cheese and a bed sheet.  At first, Roan enjoyed sharing with his little brother...

Until Ilan got a hold of a fork of his own.

There is a Lyons Family Thanksgiving tradition that everyone must contribute at least one dish to the meal.  Cooking in a crowded kitchen was never my bag, and now that there are children underfoot I can be the auntie that takes them on walks and gets them out of the way. In exchange, I don't have to cook anything!  Everyone wins.

I got carried away here, taking photos of Roan and Julia on the swing...

Also, there was a mountain lion loose in the Dominion.  Roan and Julia were obsessed with finding it and taming it with sticks. We spent a few hours each day hunting it, laying traps, leaving it food, discovering its many many lairs. It's like when all the kids are chasing limping pigeons all over the playground and all you can think is, damn, I *really* hope they don't catch any pigeons.  I had much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving, but not finding that mountain lion was in my top ten.

Kale Chips

Excitement and Anticipation

The Big Grab

The Hand Switch

Shoving into the Mouth

Coming Right Back Out

Fall Routines

We've fallen into some nice routines.  On Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays I go to the office, and Roan goes to Chai Tots.  We ride bikes there.  After we cross Prospect Park West we go down a hill, that gets steeper and steeper with each block.  I ride in the street and Roan rides on the sidewalk and we meet up at the intersections.  After crossing the street together we say, "see you at the intersection!" and Roan speeds away.  He coasts down the hills, his feet up on the part of the bike that would be the chain stay (if his bike had a chain).  He picks up some serious speed.  I lock my bike outside Chai Tots and ride the F train to work.

I'm used to riding my bike in the city, but riding with Roan introduces a new level of vigilance.  In addition to paying attention to traffic, swerving around double parked vehicles, and making sure I don't get doored, I must ride slightly ahead of Roan and clear all the driveways for him.  I'm getting better at it, learning the tricks and short cuts, so it doesn't take so much of my attention away from all the other details I need to keep in mind.

I'm not sure what we'll do when it gets too cold to ride, or  there's snow on the ground.  Both of us love this morning ride.  We chat about all sorts of things.  Lately Roan keeps asking why cars don't have 2 wheels like bikes and motorcycles do.  This question continues to vex him, despite all my explanations about weight and balance.

On Wednesday mornings I take Roan and Ilan to music class.  They both love it.  Ilan crawls all over the room, into other people's laps, attempts to climb over other children, pulls up to look out the window.  Roan sits in my lap or follows Ilan around, trying to keep him out of trouble.  In the afternoon we see friends, or meet up with big groups of neighbors at the park.

Fridays are for grocery shopping and cleaning up.  We buy challah and juice for Shabbat.  We almost always have dinner guests.  Lately I've been making thick soups that we can dip our bread in.  Ilan knows his way around these dinners - he yells for the bread and he yells for the juice and he'll eat nothing else.

On Saturday mornings I make French toast with the leftover challah. On Sundays Roan has a swimming lesson.  Sometimes we ride our bikes there, and sometimes we drive and the whole family comes.  After the lesson we go to Pinkberry for frozen yoghurt.  Roan and Jay share theirs with Ilan - I get a flavor that Ilan doesn't like so he leaves my bowl alone.

There's a comfort in these routines, in knowing what to expect.  Especially since we never know what to expect at night.  Ilan just got four new teeth and has been up every hour or two screaming about it.  So it's nice to have a loose pattern to follow, some shape to our days and weeks, so we know what we are doing even when we are too tired to think.

Welcome to a new week.