Welcome Baby

Well, I’m a Great Aunt now. On Wednesday Elisa gave birth to Oliver Yacov, 7 lbs. 13 oz. Haven’t even met this baby and I already love him; I don’t care if he has three heads.

And why is that?
1) I love his mother.
2) It’s my job.
3) What’s not to love?

This is how our culture reacts to babies.

While in Starbucks the other day I was watching a small boy, about 2 or 3. With total abandon, he was flapping around the store, grooving on everything—the food in the cases, the basket of water bottles, a napkin on the floor. I remember being his age, before fear and shame took over.

Likewise I could visualize him in 20 or 30 years, walking around like everyone else, deadened, shut down. How does that happen?

After all, when we were born, the whole world was thrilled, just like I am with Oliver Yacov.

An Interesting Exercise

To get a picture of what everyone said the day you were born, fill in the blanks:

“Did you hear? (Your mom’s name)______ had** a little ______ (boy/girl).”
“Oh how wonderful! What did they name (him/her)?”
“______________(your name goes here)”
“Wonderful!”

**or adopted

Now say it aloud.

Just think: They were all thrilled at our arrival. Then later we somehow fell out of grace.

I would like to suggest that it was diseased, insecure people who took away the sense of our delightfulness.

Well, it’s time to reclaim our birthright. Since nobody else will do it, we must be the Little Red Hen and start erasing all those lies about our inadequacy.

After all, what’s not to love?

Personally, I imagine a sweet maternal voice just behind my right shoulder, making much over me: “Oh Pody! I love this wonderful blog entry you’re writing! Look at you! Henry come watch Lyttle Poe write her blog!”

(Of course, to do this, one must overcome feelings of absolute stupidity or narcissism.)

But try it for yourself; let me know what you think.

More on Erasmo

Back in November I wrote that I was praying to find a way to reach Erasmo, the ADD kid I’ve been tutoring. The following week, while waiting for him to arrive, something told me, “Smile at him all the time.” So I did and here’s what happened:

That week I’d brought a box of very easy Clifford (the Big Red Dog)books. He spent about 15 minutes arranging the books by color, then in the order they appear on the box. I gently said, “Come on, let’s read.” He surprised both of us by reading one whole book (5 pages), a first for him.

Then he said, “Oh! Oh! I have an idea!” He invented a game where he and I would see who could spell words fastest. I let him win every time, pretending to be totally incompetent. He laughed and laughed, and played the game for 45 minutes. This is the most focused I’ve ever seen him.

Afterwards he said, “Do you have a boyfriend?” I said, “No, but I have a husband.” He threw up his hands and said, “I’m out of here! I’m gonna jump right out the window!”

Why My Christmas Tree Is Still Up

I’m back! Did you notice I haven’t written for three weeks? Well, I was highly busy with Xmas and Hanukah, and then a week-long vacation.

By far the biggest time-consumer was making new figures for my crèche. I started this project years ago, when I read about French manger scenes that encompass a whole village (butcher, baker, laundress, etc.) I immediately coveted one, so I sat down and built my own out of paper mache. It is probably my greatest joy. We have the usual holy family, but for example, Mary just had a baby, so she’s a little plump, sitting a bit sideways. Instead of three wise men, I have two kings and a queen. The shepherds are acting silly, falling down on top of the sheep. You get the idea.

Every year I add new figures. It’s the only crèche I know that has a dachshund, a mouse, two cats in the yard, a peacock, girl playing cello, a nun holding a chocolate-covered cherry, and a hippie. This year I added three of my husband’s drinking buddies, sitting at table. Since one of the kings looks like Jerry, this year I put him with his buddies, pouring the wine.

Much as I enjoyed this, it still took up scads of time. Meanwhile I was also writing cards, getting presents, walking down Christmas Tree Lane, going to the Messiah, cooking, cleaning, decorating, shopping, making two historically-accurate miniature Romans (Laura’s present). The weeks leading up to the holiday went by in such a rush, I never got a chance to enjoy it.

When I was a kid, it seemed like Christmas would never get here. Now I’m like, “What, already? And shit, I forgot to get something for Aunt Mable.”

So now on January 8th, even though Christmas is past, even Three Kings Day is past, I’ve kept the tree up and lit. I like it, and why not? After the holidays, time passes slower. I can eat breakfast beneath the tree, or just stop and gaze at each one of my beloved ornaments.

In case you’re worried, I don’t plan to leave the tree up all year or even till March when it’s a dried-out hulk. But for now I can relax and celebrate Peace on Earth in the midst of a little peace and quiet.

(And I'm really enjoying my beloved manger scene)