Sunday Slivers, 6/12/11: Holding On

It looks like summer but feels like spring, and we hope it continues that way for a while.

Though I've been bearing witness to them for about ten years, I am continually surprised by the seasonal transformations in the Bay Area. As in: why is the grass already dry in early June, even in a year with higher-than-average rainfall and unseasonably cool weather?

Or: why are wildflowers blooming when some trees seem to be shedding their leaves? What's with trees and leaves anyway? Why is the landscape around us never bare, nature never thoroughly shut down for the colder season?

I am done reading Hold On to Your Kids, and I feel fairly confident in recommending this book to all of you silent readers out there, who are either floating upstream the river of parenthood, or preparing to embark on the journey soon (or done but still fascinated by it!). The writing is not as lucid as one might like it to be, and the beginning is a tad repetitive, but after you get through the first hundred pages or so, it will probably hold your attention. The book offers one of the more cogent critiques of "North American" parenting that I have read, and it challenges assumptions about everything from the importance of "socializing" kids at a young age (not important at all, according to the authors) to building self-esteem (in solitary creative play, rather than with peers). It's truly a fascinating read, and confirms many gut instincts I already had, while seriously challenging a few others. It justifies my reluctance over the last five years to buy, borrow, and read "parenting manuals" of the sort that advise doing A, B, & C to get your child to follow your commands, and it makes me feel comfortable--which increasingly wasn't the case--with parenting our boy in ways that may not appear intuitive to others. Most importantly, it makes me want to be a better parent, and I figure that if a book achieves that, it's probably worth reading.

creek at Rancho San Antonio

I think the authors of Hold On to Your Kids would have liked hearing Sava the other day. He will have an endoscopy first thing tomorrow morning, and we've spent many an hour this week talking about how and why he is going to sleep under anesthesia. It scares him to imagine a moment in time when he will not be in control of what his body does, and he's been directing his frustration at the people who will make him sleep. With regard to said people--nurses and doctors--he had this to say:

"Mommy, when someone does something to me that I don't like, I just give up on them and they are not my friend anymore."

This all referred specifically to doctors, but then he went on, seamlessly, to tell me how he "gave up" on someone at school who had ruined something that he had built. That five-year olds can articulate their feelings with this level of precision far exceeds anything I ever expected to witness after being a mother for a mere half-decade.

We went on to explain that there are no bad children, just bad choices that they make, and we talked about children maturing at their own pace. He is an old soul, and he understands.

biked all the way to the farm and back at Rancho San Antonio!

He is such a good brother, too, and such a gentle influence on the sister who will be breaking up other children's creations before too long. He kisses and hugs in the dearest manner every morning, and he teaches her patiently how to apologize, how to say "thank you," and how to share toys. So much so, that she is now thoroughly confused about the meaning of "thank you," and will say it most of the time in the wrong context.

For instance, he'll want a toy she has, and he'll ask kindly (in Bulgarian), "Raya can big brother have that?", at which point she turns to him, thinking she's doing him a great favor, and says most excitedly, "thank yooooou!" Or she'll grab a pencil and she'll waddle to me smiling and say "thank you! mommy draw!" as she hands it to me asking to join her in drawing. It's quite darling, really, and we have no intention of disabusing her of her misuse.

yup, this ended with her soaked to her armpits

*****
Just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, and was contemplating secretly starting to teach her English because Rado feels strongly about teaching her exclusively Bulgarian at least until grandpa arrives at the end of summer, the gods dropped me a hint to abandon my literary aspirations and give the kid another two months before introducing her to the English literary classics. An article in the New York Times on The Bilingual Advantage pretty much achieved what my poor husband couldn't, which was a silent promise to give our girl the gift of bilingualism for as long as possible. It's not nearly as easy a task as it was with Sava, because she listens to us speaking to her brother in English, and repeats everything she is able to articulate, understanding at least half of what we say. As soon as she figures out how to say something in English that she already knows how to say in Bulgarian (and there is a lot!), she gives up the Bulgarian and does so with glee.

 For instance, we'll tell her to go upstairs for bedtime, in Bulgarian, and she will start shouting and giggling, "upstairs! upstairs!" She says and seems to know the meanings of "there you go!" and "I can't!", and she'll often use both the Bulgarian and English word in alternation, as today while looking at a butterfly kite: "peperudka! butterfly! peperudka! butterfly!"
Their brains are such sponges, so absorbent.

And she, in particular, thrives on copying and repetition. If Sava says something that her little mouth is capable of saying, she will repeat it. If Phoebe does does something that she'd never volunteer to do of her own volition--like drink from a sippy, which she's been avoiding like the plague--then she will do it just to be like Phoebe.

*****
This week the clouds lifted and we greeted the sunshine, though it still didn't feel hot for more than a couple of hours each day. For those two hours, though, we played like it was summer.

i'm toying with the idea of buying a better camera and taking a photography class, and this here picture is why: i want every picture to have that intensity of color and outline and feeling

yes, she lets him spray her with freezing water, and she thinks that it is fun; so does he

It's hard to capture the moments when their souls overflow with delight and they are completely unselfconscious about it, but when I do capture them, it feels like finding gold.

playing peekaboo in the closet; how many times can they be delighted as they open the door and find me there? answer: many

 

 *****

She is a pro at the shopping cart now, and she is quite earnest about it.

 She also has the most disarming, heart-warming way of bending down, tipping her head up with a smile, and drawling, "Hiiiii!"

*****

One of the most challenging aspects of this parenting gig for us is doing it mostly alone and doing it far from the proverbial (and literal, in our case) "village" that is supposed to help raise kids. We've been very lucky to have grandparents with us for long stretches of time, but it is always one at a time, and our kids, I think, have a strange notion of grandparents as people who fly solo, land here for a few months, then fly out again, and then appear occasionally on computer screens; I think they have only the vaguest idea of who lives with whom, who is whose parent, etc. and not for lack of trying to explain to them. There is no sense of extended family, and there is little sense of continuity as we strive to bridge the distance between what we recall of a very different childhood and the childhood that we are building for our kids; we are outsiders to popular American culture, and we have no impulse to reach out and learn about it so we can introduce it to our kids (yet). 

Yet we recognize the importance of rituals, and we struggle with how to create meaningful moments in our kids' lives. In the absence of organized religion, we seek alternative ways to spend recognizable chunks of time together that our kids can both remember and anticipate. Building the arc of their memory is a tricky business.

One such new attempt  is the idea of taking turns to organize family outings on Sunday mornings, including either breakfast or dinner of the organizer's choice. We started this week with Sava, and he chose to fly kites and eat sandwiches from Whole Foods for lunch.

It was a perfectly good way to spend a morning. And we held on to our kids.

Wishing you all a good week.