Ava

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Ava 8/2016, age 13

 

Beloved second born of mine,

Your wit and humor are divine;

Not ceasing to amaze,

Your smile rivals sun’s rays.

You walk with violin and bow,

Sports, parties you’ve had to forego;

Committed to ideals,

You cede an even keel.

 

As we trod this life of unknowns,

Your sense of justice are loud sones;

Ignorant peers bemoan,

Your rationale full grown.

My nerves and heart are overwrought,

On those occasions when I thought,

My love -passion – crested,

Stern words manifested.

Although the moon may wax and wane,

Effort and ache are not in vain;

Their eyes – of not import,

Your own dreams you must court.

 

 

 

 

Heartbreak

 

 

 

When your child attempts something – and works so hard to prepare – yet doesn’t quite make her goal…

and then your child’s friend has a birthday party and doesn’t invite her…

…and THEN your child accidentally deletes all the photos on her phone and they are gone forever…

it’s tempting to want to solve her problems, to take her shopping and help her forget, to help her get happy again.

It’s tempting to tell her the girl is mean and not worth her friendship.

It’s tempting to get her a pedicure, to see those tears dry up.

Instead, hold her while she cries. Tell her it’s OK and that she can handle it. Because she can.

The key to a happy life is not to avoid problems (that’s impossible). The key to a happy life is to approach each problem with the attitude that you can handle it. This is what we must teach our children.

 

 

 

Of Pastries and Pity

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Ava’s doughnut, minus the tax.

Willey and I teach our girls life lessons. Here are a few examples:

  1. Beware of insecure people. They lack self-love and thus, have no love to  give to you.
  2. Cheap shoes are never worth the savings.
  3. Cheap razors, however, are a wise choice. They are disposable for a reason.

And a biggie:

Taxes are painful and  unavoidable. I illustrate this lesson kinesthetically using doughnuts. Here’s how it goes:

Ava gets her doughnut. She wordlessly hands it to me.

“Tax,” I proclaim, as I take a big bite.

I hand it back to her.

She eats the rest.

As in life, taxes are especially bitter when taken out of your bonus check.

To drive this home, Willey will take tax out of their steak dinners or fancy pasta dishes when we go out. If hangry, the girls are driven nearly to tears.

Hey, it’s for their own good.

“Tough love,” I think they call it.

Songs in the Car

 

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Josie and I are in the car.  “Because of You ” by Kelly Clarkson comes on. I sing a long.

Because of you
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you
I learned to play on the safe side so I don’t get hurt
Because of you
I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me
Because of you
I am afrai

“She’s so whiny,” Josie says.

“I love her voice,” I say.

 

And then Maroon 5’s  “Wake Up Call” comes on.

Caught you in the morning with another one in my bed
Don’t you care about me anymore?
Don’t you care about me?
I don’t think so.

“He’s so  whiny!” I mock.

Six foot tall
Came without a warning, so I had to shoot him dead
He won’t come around here anymore
Come around here?
I don’t think so.

“He took action,” she says.

By the way, Kelly Clarkson wrote “Because of You” when she was 16. It’s about her father, who abandoned his family when she was six years old.

Sunday Funnies #2 – Father’s Day Edition

The Setting: San Francisco, Mt. Vernon Street

Me:  Stay-at-home mom to two young babies, both in diapers. I keep a vigilant eye on the girls, change them as soon as they soil their diapers. Feed them healthy food and push them on swings in the park.

You: Your usual goofy self – the “Mayor” of our street; very sociable. Your impressions of famous people make everyone laugh.

 

By the time you get home from work, I’m in serious need of “me” time. You swoop Ava under your arm, carrying her like a football. Josie walks under your feet and so does Maggie our Labrador. With your one free hand, you carry a cabernet and say, “Bye honey, relax. Enjoy some solitude. I love you.” You and the family are out the door, to visit the “Different Boys” – a group of young, single party guys up the block.

The silence in the house is deafening. I don’t know what to do with my free time. I’m glad to have it, but also miss you, the girls and the dog. After a bubble bath, I get worried. You are not as “obsessed” as me when it comes to safety. So I get dressed and walk up to the boys’ house. No one answers. The front door is unlocked and I walk in. There are papers and clothes piled up everywhere in the house. I walk some more. On the pool table are Josie and Ava, wearing only diapers now. Where are their shirts? Ava has the 8 ball in her hand. She holds it up to her mouth and slobbers all over it. Josie has a ball and chucks it off the table and onto the floor. The ball bounces off the hard wood floor.

You are in the next room, lying on someone’s bed, drinking and talking to Matt-the-Artist. Maggie lies next to you.

“Uh, Willey, I think I’ll take the girls home.”

“Why? Honey, just stay. Relax. Grab a beer.”

“Oh, thank you. But the girls need their baths, their books read to them…we need to get ready for dinner and then bed.”

You look at me adoringly.

“Ok. I’m going to finish my wine here. I’ll bring Maggie.”

I take the girls home. You come home shortly, and we eat dinner right after you tickle the girls silly.

 

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