Eitan the Celebrity

My family and I are currently in Singapore visiting family. I decided I’m going to write about the trip, both to tell our friends and relatives how the trip is going and to give us another way to remember the trip after it’s done. Today’s post was actually written by my wife who has also posted a number of times before. Enjoy!

---

 

My mother always told me not to point and stare. If I saw someone who looked “different,” my parents always explained to me that it is not polite to point and stare. Instead, I should ask them or the person questions about what I had seen. I know that there are different times when people stare at others and, sure, I’m guilty of doing it too. But coming to Singapore has left me with a new feeling about pointing out a child who is cute or drawing attention to someone in public. In almost every place we have gone, Eitan, our little blonde-haired, hazel-eyed American boy, has been smiled at, waved at, petted on the head, taken by the hand, and then talked about in a different language.¹

I am usually one of the first people to comment about a cute baby passing by or about someone’s clothes that I think are nice. But since we have been on this trip, I believe that I will hesitate before I do such a thing in the future. I believe that most of the praise that Eitan receives is sincere, but I have been feeling ambivalent about the attention that he has been receiving from complete strangers.

Singapore is a very different place than New York. Kids play freely with minimal supervision in courtyards and sidewalks. People leave personal items outside their doors unattended (shoes, balls, bikes, etc.). We brought Eitan to get his hair cut a few days after we arrived and the receptionist left us alone in the barber shop – with full access to the cash register and MacBook – while she went to the store next door to get the barber.² The ground is clean and I can count the number of pieces of litter we’ve seen on one hand. It seems that people really do live apart from any sort of crime. It’s almost as though we are living in the Twilight Zone. We have yet to see a police officer or hear a fire truck or ambulance siren, which is a stark contrast to the sounds we are accustomed to in New York City. People really seem to live without worry here, whereas in New York, someone pointing and speaking out in public often means that a dangerous situation is brewing. We always talk about how we wonder what our children’s lives will be like years from now based on the increases in gun violence, acts of terrorism and global climate change, but Singapore seems to be living serenely.

I suppose that living in the U.S. – particularly in New York City – has forced me to put up my guard to protect myself and my family. I should clarify that all of the attention that Eitan has received has been positive. He has been encouraged to interact with everyone, including flight attendants, wait staff, taxi drivers and other local residents. The people here have been critical in helping him to become more comfortable in his new surroundings. However, in spite of his apparent celebrity status, I think that when I arrive back home, I will be more conscious of any extra attention I pay to people or things that I see that are out of the ordinary. Aaron and I know that Eitan is cute – yes, we’re biased to some degree, but still – and that he is going to attract some smiles and some comments here and there because of his age. But in spite of the flattery, the amount of attention that people have been paying to Eitan has made me a bit uncomfortable and I would not want to put another parent in a similar position. So I will be keeping my index finger by my side and my comments to myself, even if they are intended to give compliments.

As for Eitan, we’re just hoping the extra attention doesn’t go to his head.

 

---

^{1. I’m assuming they were talking about him be cause they were still pointing and smiling. Also, the only people who took him by the hand were waiters and waitresses who were bringing Eitan to see the food that was about to be cooked for us. He never left our sight.↩}

^{2. Seriously. We were completely alone in the store and she didn’t even seem to think twice about leaving us there.↩}

Laughter Is The Best Medicine

It’s been an eventful week. We saw a lot of my family last week, between my dad being in town and the brunch for my newly engaged brother. Today, though, is all about Trudy’s side of the family (you’ll see why pretty quickly). Today’s post is the latest from the SAHM, with only some minor comments from me here and there. I may write more on this topic later in the week, but this one is more Trudy than anything.

---

Cancer.

It’s a tiny word that carries such a big punch. We hear about it on the radio and see signs discussing it on buses and trains. We watch our favorite TV doctors dissect, resect and administer drugs. But we, as outsiders, never expect “cancer” to affect our immediate world. It’s one of those things that we always think happens to “someone else,” like robberies or car accidents or getting struck by lightning. And then, out of left field, when you are least expecting it… The surreal punch; one word.

Cancer.

A whirlwind of emotions immediately overtakes you. You’re terrified and angry and confused and in disbelief all at once. Life, as you’ve known it, will never be the same. In an instant, everything has changed.

One little word.

They say laughter is the best medicine. I never realized just how true that is until I became a parent. As children, people do things to make their parents laugh, smile and, of course, even make them cry. I’m certainly no exception. Sure, my friends think I’m funny, but my parents think I’m hilarious.

I always laughed it off when my parents would obsess about something cute I did or said how funny they thought I was. I would always tell them, “Mom, Dad, stop it, you’re embarrassing me.” But now that I’m a parent, I realize that parents talking about their kids isn’t just showing an obsession over behaviors (or just me kvelling¹ over how cute my kid is). That pride is an integral part of life that truly helps life seem better and worth living.

I know I’ve wandered a bit in this post. Forgive me, but I’m a bit distracted today. The point I’m trying to make is that life is precious and fragile and we need to cherish the few moments we do have here. It’s important to laugh, at each other, at ourselves, at our kids, at everything. Even at little words and the way those words make us feel. I know today is going to be incredibly hard. It’s scary and hard to grasp and I’m still not sure I can name all the feelings. But I’ll be laughing as much as I can. Eitan needs to see me laugh and so does my dad.

Laughter will get us through it.

---

^{1. Yiddish for “bursting with pride.”↩}

A Quiet Baby

I assume many people (especially those without children) think that a quiet and content child is a good thing.  Quiet means the child is sleeping, reading a book or perhaps playing with a quiet, likely educational toy.

Think again.

As parents of a very active almost 16 month old we learned oh-so-quickly that a quiet child is not a good thing. A very quiet child is a very bad thing.  If you find yourself saying, “It’s really quiet. Where’s Eitan?” then you’ve already lost.

A quiet child only means one thing: trouble.

It never seems to amaze me just how much “trouble” Eitan seems to get in when he’s “quiet.”  During these “quiet times” Eitan has managed to un-baby proof many of the places in our apartment that we tried so hard to prevent him from getting into.  He pulled the television cables wires off the wall¹ and opened closet doors to pull out everything he could reach, including shoes, toilet paper rolls, paper towels, clothes, bags and a broom and mop.

I sit here and wonder what you all are thinking, “Where is his mother when all of this is happening?”  We try to give Eitan as much free reign of our apartment as we can since it’s not that large, but truth be told, our son is a force of nature.  Emptying an entire side of a closet surprisingly only takes him a few minutes.

A few weeks ago he climbed into the shower and dumped out all of his bath toys.  Yesterday he unraveled an entire roll of toilet paper and (of course) ripped it into tiny pieces all over the apartment. He also enjoys the toilet, which has been locked for a few months, after someone decided to try and give himself a bath inside.²  Oh, and there’s nothing like the sound of a toilet flushing to show you that when your son left the room, he did not go to get another toy or book to read, like you thought.

So basically we never had to buy Eitan any of his million toys, just put him in the bathroom, closet or any area of the apartment that we thought we babyproofed and he’s set for a few hours.

Needless to say, Aaron and I quickly learned that the bathroom door needs to stay closed during the day.³ We re-babyproofed in hopes of preventing any injuries or additional destruction to our apartment.

Not all of his “quiet times” are destructive or likely to cause injury. He learned to climb into his toy chest (which is so cute), opens and closes his crib drawer (not before pulling out all of the blankets and sheets – and sometimes getting into the drawer). He’s climbed onto his music table and attempted to climb on top of his kitchen.  Many of these activities have been with me watching, making sure that he is safe and at the same time still having fun.

But yes, the moral of the story: if you don’t hear your child, be afraid. Very afraid. And then go quickly to see what he/she has gotten into.

---

^{1. Yes, the brackets holding them to the wall were nailed in.↩}

^{2. Do you see a pattern? Eitan really likes the bathroom.↩}

^{3. As you can tell, we forget to do this sometimes. Not to worry, Eitan always catches our mistakes.↩}

Debut of the SAHM

When you meet a person for the first time a common topic of conversation is what you do for a living. Or, at least, the question “Where you do work?” is asked. When Eitan was only a few months old my initial response was always “I don’t work; I stay home with my son.” Now Eitan is 14 months old and my response has changed drastically. This past year has shown me just how wrong my earlier answer was, as well as how so many people have preconceived notions about what it means to be a stay-at-home-mother (SAHM).

No, I do not sleep until all hours of the day. I do not watch soap operas or shop until I drop. I wake up when my son wakes up. Every time. No matter what the hour. I am a boo-boo healer, a chef de cuisine of baby and toddler food, a baby proofer and a child chaser, sometimes all at the same time.

This has led me to change my response when asked what I do for a living. Now I say that I am a SAHM. I am the person who my son calls “MA!” My job is taking care of his every need. I am on the clock 24/7, 365 days a year. If you were to write a job description for a SAHM, it would need to include the following responsibilities and necessary skills:

– Able to change diapers in under ten seconds (bonus points for doing it in the dark while the child is trying to roll over)

– Upper body strength (that you didn’t think you had) to lift and carry a 25 lb stroller

– Organizational skills to pack your child’s entire wardrobe for a weekend driving trip

– Able to utilize enough distractions to cut your child’s nails¹

– Linguistic talents to understand the different possible meanings of “Eh!” or “Ah!”

– Intestinal fortitude to taste every type of food before giving it to your baby

– Strength of heart to be able to ignore your baby’s cries because you know they need to be napping

– Willingness to be your child’s play mate², even if it means not shattering their musical truck against the wall

– Ability to figure out what “the pointer finger” means before tears begin

– Patience.  Lots of it.

Being that this is primarily Aaron’s blog, I feel that it is necessary to give my husband a little shout out.  I have an incredible husband who is always willing to help me with mundane tasks such as the laundry, cleaning the bathroom and other housekeeping chores. He doesn’t spend a lot of time at home but he helps out when he’s there.

Sure, I miss having intellectual conversations about adult topics and using my brain for something other than building block towers or playing peek-a-boo. It’s not easy hearing my husband come home and talk about the “real” issues he dealt with during his day.  But I know that I should not take my “job” for granted or ever complain about the so-called intellectual conversations that I am missing. After having been home with Eitan for the past 14 months, I can’t imagine not being with him every day.

I recently completed my Masters degree in General and Special Education and I sometimes think that I wasted my money since I’m not currently teaching full-time. But then when I think about my day or about the past few months, I realize that I am my son’s personal full-time teacher. Yes, we play, but we also spend a lot of time learning.  We go to classes and on shopping adventures where we explore the world.  We have inside jokes.  Eitan is learning to cook and clean and perform other life skills; he has already mastered flushing the toilet, throwing out garbage and sweeping the floor.³ So although I might not be contributing to the household income, I know that my contributions are much more important for our family.

I don’t mean this to be a judgment of “working moms.”  If anything, I think it’s probably an even harder job to leave a child at home than it is to spend the day with them.  Either way, people do what they need to in order to get by and Aaron and I have found a system that seems to work for us (most of the time, at least).  The bottom line, for me, is that I wouldn’t trade a minute of being Eitan’s mom.

I have the best job ever.

---

^{1. Note: Aaron failed this skill.↩}

^{2. Not to be confused with a Playboy Playmate.  I am not one of those either.↩}

^{3. Still more evidence that Eitan is clearly my child.↩}