The Ruckus

There was a ruckus outside. More than normal. And then there was a knock at the back door.

I went to the door and opened it, but there was no one there. Whomever had knocked had run back down the stairs to continue in the ruckus. It could have been Nola. It could have been Fay. Could have been Bella or her little sister Willa. Or possibly even Nate.

Dunno. Didn't matter. It was a ruckus.

"Hey," I said stepping out onto the deck and looking down into the yard. There were clearly two sides and Fay was the only one on hers. "What's going on here? Are we-"

"Fay made Willa cry," said Bella. "She called her a crybaby!"

"No I didn't," protested Fay.

"Oh yes you did," cried Nate. "We all heard you!"

"No I didn't!"

“Ok, ok, ok,” I said. "We certainly don’t want to call each other names. And we don't want to tattle on each other. We want to be our best selves. Are we being our best selves?"

“She was being mean,” said Bella her arm outstretched and finger fully extended at Fay. It was all very J’ACCUSE!

"Ok, look," I tried again. "We're all friends. We’re all neighbors so we need to-

Fay darted out of our yard and across the next one through the trees and back to hers. The rest of the kids took off after her like a pack of wolves.

"WHOA! Whoa! Guys! Hey, leave Fay alone. She might need some time alone to think things out, so just leave her be.”

Nate could not be herded back, but Nola and Bella came back. And Willa followed Bella.

“Be cool,” I said. “Let’s be our best selves and remember we’re all friends.”

I’m all for kids working out their own problems, so I turned around and went back inside. But before I could do that, Fay appeared on the next door lawn. She just stood there, like a wounded deer, silently luring them.

Bella, Willa, and Nola started to approach her. Fay raised her arms to suggest everyone slow down, that she needed some space. The girls slowed, like a game of Captain May I.

“Just Nola,” said Fay.

“That’s not nice!” said Willa.

Damn straight, Willa. That’s NOT nice.

“Hey,” I said. “No. We’re all friends. We’re not singling anyone out.”

Fay darted through the trees back to her yard.

“Da-ad,” said Nola turning to me, her shoulders slumped and disappointed. “Now she ran away again."

“Come here,” I said.

When Nola finally and begrudgingly made her way up to me, I said, “Fay is not being nice.”

“Yes she is.”

“To you, but not everyone else. And that’s wrong. She’s being a bully. That’s not cool.”

“Fine.”

As Nola went back down the stairs, Fay appeared on the next door lawn again. She sat down. Specifically, she sat down with her little brother Hal. She had reinforcements. And then Nate came from behind the trees and quietly sat down with them.

Now I COULDN’T go inside. I had front row seats to Lord of the Flies.

Willa, Bella, and Nola approached the kids seated. Again Fay raised her arms and everyone moved in slow motion. And then they were all calmly sitting in a circle. Ok, not my business. I can go inside. But as I got up it all being to roil again. A lot of SHE SAID SHE SAID. Fay popped up and I'm not sure if she lost her compass or what, but this time she ran into our yard. The rest of the kids chased after her and shouted.

“No, Fay!” yelled Nate. “You can’t run away! That’s not allowed!”

"You have to come back!" cried Bella.

"Fay!" shouted Nola.

“Hey,” I said. “Everybody. Listen up. Not sure what’s going on here, but let’s leave Fay alone.”

And then Fay sprinted out of our yard again to hers. The kids trailed her.

“Nola! Stop! Come here!”

A lot of harumphing up the stairs.

“Look,” I said. “I don’t think you understand what’s going on. Fay WANTS everyone to chase her.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s being manipulative. She’s trying to control everyone. That’s not nice. Everyone needs to be treated kindly and fairly. Everyone.”

“She’s trying to control us?”

“Yes.”

“Can I tell Bella?”

“Um, yeah, I guess.”

Nola bounded down the stairs.

“Bella!” she shouted. "Don’t chase her! She wants us to. She’s trying to control us.”

As I heard her say this out loud, it did sound very tin foil hat. That wasn’t lost on me. But I felt kinda bad. Like I had picked up the hem so Nola could peak behind the curtain. I don’t know that she really understood what she saw, but I wondered if I had cheated.

😬

---

Full disclosure: No. Pretty sure it’s my responsibility to point out where it’s tricky.

Fuller disclosure: It's somewhere in the parent's by-laws, right?

Fullest disclosure: Damnit, I know I saw it someplace.

---

Addendum: It was around dinner time and everyone was running on fumes. It all worked itself out. By the next day it was all forgotten and it was all about the dead bird they found.

Addendum 2: No, no one touched it.

Addendum 3: I scooped it up with a snow shovel when no one was looking and put it in the trash.

Leverage, or Purrah

You are a creature of habit. And some of those habits I believe border an obsessive compulsive disorder. But as you're only three and half, and I am an unlicensed child psychologist, I'm willing to overlook it.

"Wait," you might say years from now, "what are you talking about? I was a little girl."

Yeah, well let me explain the routine that must be followed EXACTLY, or a meltdown ensues.

After your bath we put on your pajamas and read two books. Lately, in the middle of the second book you say, "Can we read three because I love you so much?"

I usually cave because I love YOU so much and what's the harm of another book. However, although you SAY love me so much, you don't LISTEN like you love me so much.

Sigh...

Yes, that's all 'within the spectrum' as they say. But here's where it gets weird.

After we read, I tuck you in. I make sure you have socks on and that you have all five of your kitties to sleep with. You arrange them accordingly - EVERY time. This one on this side, that one next to that one, the other one ever there, etc... I pull your blanket up, then the smaller blanket with the pink polka dots facing up, and then the tiny blanket with the tag up on the lower right side. I go to the right side of your bed and sing You Are My Sunshine before hugging you and kissing you and giving you a series of high fives. Up until a few weeks ago the high fives went, "Five, ten, twenty, twenty." Now they go, "Kitty, fairy, princess, kitty." I walk to the door and turn puppy light on to pink so you can pink your friends. You raise each of them to the light. "Pink, pink, pink, pink," you say. And then, 'Daddy, can you please pink Purple Kitty?" I go back to your bed and hold up Purple Kitty. "Pink," I say. Oh, and recently we added moisturizer to this routine. "My tummy is itchy," you said a few nights ago. So now, every night since, I rub Curel with 'ultra feeling' on your tummy. Somehow your legs and feet also became itchy so I have to put moisturizer on them, too. Anyway, after 'pinking', I turn off your dimmed room light. "Goodnight, Nola," I say, "Mommy and daddy and Judah love you very much. Laila tov." As I close your door you say, "Can you turn off the hall light?" And then I do.

That's the routine. I usually get it right. But if I forget any one of these, you cry and scream. So I'll come in and complete whatever the task and then you say, "I want my tears wiped."

It's a bit much.

Last night while we were reading you interrupted and said, "I need my nails cut."

"I don't think that's gonna happen, sweetie. It's late. It's sleepytime."

What started as a whimper escalated to tears in seconds. You jumped off my lap and started down the hall.

"Nola, come here please. Nola, please come here. Nola, are you listening? This is your first warning."

But you were already racing up the stairs.

Sigh...

Here's the thing, sweetheart. Daddy's tired. And he's tired of you not listening. Yes, I understand you're not the pinpoint center of the universe anymore and you feel compelled to act out, but quite frankly, you're being a fucking asshole.

Bam!

There, I said it. That felt good. Huh, who knew? I mean beside Louis CK...*

So now you're upstairs with mommy telling your sob story about your nails to her.

"Let me finish feeding Judah," mommy says, "and then I'll come down and cut your nails, sweetheart."

Grrrrrr...

"Now apologize to daddy for not listening," mommy continues as she looks at me glaring in the doorway, "and I'll be down in a little bit."

You mumble a half apology with your thumb in your mouth and we go downstairs to finish the book, which I really don't feel like reading anymore. In other words, I'm done with you.

I mechanically finish the book and we sit in silence until mommy comes downstairs. I chill in the other room as she cuts your nails.

"Rib?"

I come back in.

"I have to finish feeding Judah. Can you tuck her in?"

I nod.

"Good night, sweetheart," says mommy as she heads back upstairs.

"Daddy," you say, "Kitty Caw didn't go to ballet today because she-"

"Nola, it's sleepy time."

You've already moved on from our row. I have not. Nonetheless I go through the routine. I make sure the tiny blanket has the tag facing up on the bottom right side, but I go immediately to puppy light. No song.

"Daddy, can you sing You Are My Sunshine?"

"No, I don't feel like it."

"Daddy, please." Your voice is trembly. Some of the hard frozen edges of my heart start to flake off.

"I really don't feel like singing, Nola."

"That's not nice."

Really? You wanna go there? Ok, fine.

"Nola, what's not nice is when you don't listen. That's not nice. Running out of the room in the middle of a story is not nice. Crying and screaming for no good reason is not nice. You're a big girl, sweetheart. Are you not a big girl?"

I don't know what structure you call a question like that, but yes, that's hard to answer. Regardless, your thumb is locked between your lips.

"You hurt daddy's feelings when you didn't listen."

Silence.

And then you take your thumb out of your mouth.

"I'm sorry, daddy."

Beep. Shzzzzzzzz...

Apparently there is an instant defrost setting on my heart.

"Ok, well, I appreciate you saying that. Thank you. That makes daddy feel better."

I sing the song quietly, finish out the routine. But before I turn off the hall light, we go over kitty removal. Your mom is the genius who came up with the kitty removal strategy and this is the first time I remember to employ it. "Nola," I say, "if you have to go pee pee, or need a drink of water, you can go ahead and do that. You're a big girl. But if you get out of bed for any other reason, what happens?"

"You or mommy take a kitty."

"That's right. Now go sleepytime. Mommy and daddy and Judah love you very much. Laila tov."

I go upstairs to make dinner. Really I'm just heating up the oven to 450º before throwing in a frozen pizza. But at about 275º you're at the top of the steps. Purrah is draped over your arm.

"Daddy, can you smooth out my blanket?"

I feel like a spider. A mean cruel ugly spider. This meal is too easy. I barely spun a web.

"Sure," I say. "No problem. But you know what happens now, right?"

"What?"

"I take Purrah."

You're caught. You twist and turn and writhe, but there's web all over you. You can't get free. You scream out and cry.

Purrah is just a kitty head attached to a washcloth, only it's the softest washcloth in the world. I don't know what these things are called. It's not a wash cloth, but it has no arms or legs and it's sooooo soft. Purrah is your oh so soft kitty that you love oh so much. I believe she is your favorite, that she has even topped Kitty Caw.

You are crying. And crying. You can hardly catch your breath. I walk you to your room, take Purrah. "Sleeytime," I say. "Now."

I close the door. It doesn't seem possible, but you cry and scream even louder.

I. Feel. Terrible.

I wait at your door.

Screaming, crying. Screaming. Crying.

I hear you come to the door. You open it. I'm right there. Between sobs and sucks of air you say, "I want my tears wiped."

I steer you back to your bed, wipe your tears.

"I love Purrah so much," you manage to say.

"I know."

"Can I have her please? I'll listen. I have my listening ears on."

You put your hands at your ears.

Beep. Shzzzzzz fssssshhhhhh. Gurrrrrrggggg.

My heart melts.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Those are the rules."

But instead of screaming out in ear drum damaging horror, you continue to sob and open your arms for a hug.

Beep. Shzzzzzz kathunnk. Chgrk. Fssssshhhhhh. Klank. KaBOOM!

My heart, which is just goo, actually explodes into a million pieces.

I lean in for a hug.

"Ok," I say - because I can't take any more - "I'm going to give you Purrah back, but let this be a warning for tomorrow night and all other nights. Purrah will be taken away. Do you understand?"

You nod, reach one arm out because the other is connected to your thumb which is now connected to your mouth. I hand you Purrah and pull the blankets up, smooth them out.

"Sleepytime," I say. "Sleepytime."

I close the door, and that's last we will see of each of this evening. It's been a tough night. For everyone.


*

Morning Conversation - Thursday

It's 6:06 in the am. I hear Nola outside our room. Actually I hear her first turn the light on in the hallway. Click. I look at the edge of our blinds. It's still dark outside. Pam and Judah are still sleeping. I put on my shorts and walk out to the hall. Nola is in the other room. She somehow hears me silently shut the door to our bedroom.

Nola: I love you, daddy.

Me: I love you, too, sweetheart. Good morning.

Nola: Do you want to play with me?

Me: Yes, but I have to feed Oliver first. He's meowing.

Nola: I'm going to give him a hug.

Me: That's very sweet.

Nola hugs the cat and releases him. I get the food out, put it in his bowl. Nola watches me from the couch.

Nola: Is it the weekend?

Me: No, sweetie, it's Thursday.

Nola: Can we watch a Pingu?

(Pingu is a series of 5 minute cartoons about a penguin named Pingu we watch on YouTube - ONLY on the weekends.)

Me: I think Pingu is just for the weekends, sweetheart.

Nola: Can we watch it because I love you so much?

Me: Ok, sweetie, we have to have a conversation. Let's go downstairs.

We go downstairs. I pull Nola onto my lap. I kiss her neck.

Me: You have to stop manipulating daddy, ok? Just because you love me so much doesn't mean you can do whatever you want whenever you want, ok?

Nola lies there with her thumb in her mouth.

Me: Daddy loves you so much all the time. But during the week we read and we play with your dollhouse and the cars. We draw and make necklaces. If we watched Pingu all the time it wouldn't be special. You're going to have your whole life to watch cartoons. Mommy and I are trying to preserve your childhood. We are creating boundaries.

Nola: What are boundaries?

Me: They're sort of like fences. They keep us safe. They keep us from becoming little monsters.

Nola: Am I a little monster?

Me: Well, sometimes. I mean we're all little monsters sometimes. But it's very important to have boundaries.

Nola: I don't like boundaries. I want to watch Pingu.

Me: Yes, I'm sure you do. But Pingu is just for the weekends. Let's play with the dollhouse. What's Paul Simon doing?

(Paul Simon is the dad doll of her dollhouse.)

Nola: He's driving Belle and Sleeping Beauty to ballet class.

Me: Should we see if anyone else wants to come?

We hear Judah cry upstairs. It turns into the bleating of a goat.

Nola: I don't like when Judah cries.

Me: I know, sweetie. No one does. But let's go up and say good morning to mommy and Judah.

Nola puts her thumb in her mouth and begins to go up upstairs. She let's out a whimper mid-flight.

Me: Nola, c'mon, no fake crying.

Nola keeps whimpering and runs into our room when she gets upstairs. I hear her from the top of the steps.

Nola: Mommy, daddy says I need boundaries. I don't like boundaries.

C'est la vie, non?

Northern California 2 (specifically just the baggage claim at SFO)

We landed at SFO, which is essentially the future.  Its smart lines, recycling bins, modern design/industrial strength furniture, and filtered air all played to the various high end stores we passed on our way to baggage claim.  Of course, your mom and I did take a moment to use the facilities, wash our hands, and dip them into the Dyson air blades for a quick dry.

Some day, ALL airports will be like this.

We gathered our stuff and waited for Aunt Laura outside.  The air still a bit crisp, you and your mom went back inside.  I waited in the cool San Francisco air and watched a security cop start to write up a ticket for an abandoned Volvo.  The driver came out with some bags and was closely followed by his wife and daughter.  In theory, the driver could have pretended not to see the cop.  He could have just started loading his car.  Because then when he 'noticed' the security cop, he could have pretended that he had just seen his family through the window and went to help them - and did NOT really leave his vehicle.  

Even that's not a fullproof out.  But it's better than yelling at the cop.  The driver could have been nicer.  He could have asked the security cop to give him a warning - after all, it was Xmas.  But ignorance off the law is no excuse, and if you act like a jackass, you will be treated as such.  Remember that.

The guy got a ticket.

That said, this whole incident is a bit gray to me because airports were not always a police state.  Post 2001, it's now possible that the Volvo is full of explosives and will destroy the part of the airport where people go to retrieve their suitcases.  

Really, that's low hanging fruit.  Who wants to destroy baggage claim?  Better they should monitor the BART.  Some holy roller with a back pack full of C4 and a one way fare from the West Oakland to Embarcadero will ruin it for everyone.  

(To anyone reading this, I NOT a terrorist - and I only know C4 from TV.  Or maybe from one of the Lethal Weapon movies.)

Your mom texted me she was going to change your poopie diaper.  And then a minute later Aunt Laura pulled up.  It's good you finally had a poopie, but this was going to get tricky.  The security cop was clearly working this stretch of the American Airline terminal.  I watched him amble toward Aunt Laura's car.  I nodded in his direction and started to get out your car seat.  The thing is, Ruby's car seat was already in the back seat.

"What are you doing?" asked Aunt Laura.

"Pretending to put in Nola's car seat."

"Can't she just use Ruby's?  Wait, what?"

"Pam is changing Nola and this cop is going to write us a ticket."

I continued to pretend to put your car seat in.  I pretended to reach in to find the LATCH.  I pretended there was no LATCH and I would have to use the seatbelts.  Aunt Laura went around to the other side to pretend to help.

"Should I move my hands around a little?" she asked.

"Yeah, maybe pretend to take out Ruby's seat."

Either the restroom was in the United terminal or you had a giant blow out.  It was taking a very long time and eventually we couldn't pretend any longer.  We looked liked mimes without makeup.  I started to put your seat back in its bag - which ALWAYS seems to take forever.  Now it was slipping in like the most perfect glove.  The cop sidled up to the car.

"How's it going?" he asked.

"Think we're just going to use the other car seat.  Just going to put this one in back."

"Hi," said your Aunt Laura coming around from the other side.

Your Aunt Laura has a great bedside manner.  She used to be a hostess at a restaurant when she was still a teenager.  And now, as a professional photographer, she makes complete strangers feel comfortable in front of her camera even when they are naked.

She smiled and pushed her long hair back.

"This has to be a hard job.  Especially today, huh?"

The cop smiled and pointed to me.

"Yeah, I think he saw me write up a ticket just a few minutes ago.  Got yelled at and everything."

"Oh, that's so hard," your aunt continued.

"My wife is changing our daughter's diaper," I said.  "She should be out any second."

"I can drive around if you want," Laura volunteered.

"No, you're fine," said the cop putting his pen back into his shirt pocket.

Finally you showed up with your mom and everything was fine.  Again, why anyone would want to destroy baggage claim is beyond me.

We got onto the highway and headed across the bay.

 

Pooping in the Potty

Not ONLY did you go to school today, but you ALSO pooped in the potty.  When your mom and I came home tonight you had just finished taking care of business.

"You guys are just in time," said Shauna.  "In fact, you can see for yourself."

Sure enough (and I don't mean to embarrass you) there was quite a load.  I have a picture, but maybe we'll just keep under wraps for now.

"Oh my stars, Nola pie!" I shouted.  "Did you just poop in the potty?"

"I have Kitty.  And Dalmi."  

Like it was no big deal.

When I was in college I fell down a flight of stairs at a party.  Somehow I stayed on my feet and eventually landed next to a comely co-ed.  Because my arm was already out to break my fall, I placed it on her shoulder when I came to a stop.  "How ya doin?  What's your name?"

But really, I think your achievement and cavalier je ne sais quoi was a much bigger deal.

Nice!

 

A Little Crying, No Big

Your mom took you to school this morning.  She didn't want me to go.  She thought it might be too much.  For who?  You?  Her?

Really, I think she just wanted to have this moment for herself.  That's ok.  There will be lots of moments.  Some I'll miss.  Some your mom will miss.  Some you might even miss.  What's important is the love.

I love you.  I love your mom.  I'm good.  We're good.  It's all good.

Your mom came home after dropping you off.

"How'd it go?" I asked.

"Fine.  I mean she cried when I told her I was leaving."

"Did you just sat goodbye, or did you drag it out and then pinch her?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"There was a purple pen that she started drawing with.  She loves a purple pen.  And they have a really nice kitchen set.  So she did some cooking.  Do you think we're sending her off toschool too early?"

"No, I think it's fine.  I think it's good.  Let's see what happens, ok?"

"Ok."

Who's Crying Now

Tomorrow is your first day of pre pre-school.  We checked it out a few weeks ago.  Creative Scholars.  It seems nice.  Who am I kidding?  It seems GREAT.  They have tiny toilets in the bathrooms - which is incredibly cute if not downright pragmatic.

Your mom is taking you.  She is very nervous for you.  Very.  She thinks you will cry and have a meltdown when she turns around to leave.  You might.  It's also possible that you will be distracted by the other kids and all the things to play with.  

Who knows?

Really, I'm most nervous for your mom.  I'm hoping she doesn't cry and have a meltdown when you forget to look around to see if she's there.

Good luck... to both of you.