glenrockschwartz

Dear kids, It's Halloween night and I am listening to you in the other room trading candy. This end of the day is idyllic and happy, but there have been times today where my heart hurt for you, where I just wanted to protect you from the pain of growing up. This specific kind of heart pain always comes from relationships and learning to be social and feeling left out and finding your place. It stinks, but in a way I am also glad for these tiny hurts. In the long run, it will make you decent human beings. I hope that we are done with the bad and that we can settle into a busy, easy, happy time. I am glad that you are exactly who you are. I love you, Mom

Dear Avery, Today I was listening to you talk to one of your friends.  You were talking about a Thanksgiving project on which your class is working.  You said to your Jewish friend (referring to a cornucopia), "You know that Thanksgiving thing that looks like a shofar?" I don't know why, but that one little sentence made me so happy.  It is hard having a Jewish identity when you live in a country where although there is separation of church and state, the majority of people do indeed go to the aforementioned "church".  Somehow by knowing the word "shofar" before you know the word "cornucopia" I have hope that you will be an American (adjective) Jew (noun), rather than a Jewish American. Shanah Tovah to my sweet Aviva Gila. Love, Mama

Dear Avery, Yesterday you and I had this conversation: Avery: (out of no where) "So what does sex feel like, anyway?" Me: (thinking to myself, why the heck are you thinking about this and how can I deflect and do I really want to have this conversation) "When you are in love, it can feel good." Avery: "But like, what is it!?!  I know you get under the covers....I mean, have you ever done sex?" Me: (thinking, phew! she gave me an out!) "Yes, of course.  You have sex to make babies and I had you and Alex." (also do I need to do a better job of explaining where babies come from?  maybe, but not right now.) Avery:  "Ok.  Makes sense." You are almost eight and a half years old.  Don't grow up too fast. Love, Mama

Dear Alex, Last week we spent the week on a family cruise to celebrate Grammy and Grandpa Howie's fiftieth wedding anniversary.  For the most part you hung out with Avery and your cousins and had a wonderful time.  But you also wanted to push outward a bit and be a (pre)teen, if only for a little while.  This attitude manifested itself a few times during the cruise, most notably: They have this teen program.  Most kids who attend go with their friends or family who are on the boat with them.  It is VERY brave in my opinion to go on your own to something like this.  Not only did you go, not only did you make a friend (at first you thought his name was Brett, but then you discovered that his name was Fred), but you stayed out until midnight!  We were already in bed when you came back to the room.  It just felt so "teenager" of you.  By the way, it's not like you and Fred became life long buddies.  You agreed to hang out with him the ...

2. More. Weeks. Five weeks is long enough.  I'm ready for them to come home.  And I can't sleep thinking about it.  And about other things.  Because once they come home: 1. Will I arrange the perfect homecoming?  Will they get the right amount of time with their parents? With their friends?  Alone, because they haven't been alone in seven weeks. 2. Do I need to get them checked for lice and have their laundry done by a professional like the other moms? 3. How will I have enough time to get all their laundry done and everything organized before we leave for Florida? 4. How will I have time to pack for Florida and the cruise for myself and for them while also working and spending time with them? 5. Is it weird if they come home and don't want to hug me and kiss me endlessly? 6. Will they be okay in school this year? 7. Will I do a good job of planning their activities while balancing a need for busy-ness with time for homework and time for...

Dear Kids, It is almost the end of day four at camp.  I haven't received a letter yet or had a chance to talk to you and I am dying to hear all about your experiences: the good and the bad, the scary and the exciting. In the meantime, I am a stereotype.  I am desperate to know that you are more than okay, that you are happy so I do what all mothers who send their kids to sleep away camp do, I refresh.  I am on the camp website numerous times a day to see are there new photos of you.  Can I catch a glimpse of an arm or a leg - "those are definitely her shoes!" - among a group of kids?  The crown jewel, a photo of you smiling with your arm slung around a buddy's shoulder?  Camp is a gift, but it is not a gift that is for everyone and as it is Avery's first summer going away this year, I refresh. I try to give it time to be patient.  But it is hard, especially since no one needs to know just how often I am checking, how often I refresh. I refresh ...

Dearest Alex and Avery, Today is the last day of sixth and second grade.  In two days, for the first time BOTH of you will get on a bus to Pennsylvania for summer camp and leave me with an empty house for the summer.  Alex, while camp is your easy, happy place, at home you continue to work on finding your place among your school friends.  I'm not sure that you have plans for after school on the last day of school, but I am hoping that you find someone (or even better some group) to spend time with and do not come home to sit around by yourself on the last day of school.  Avery, camp is brand new for you and I wonder how you will fall asleep each night without a chapter from a book, a hug and snuggle from your mama. All of it, all of it has me sitting at home feeling sad and saddened (are those different?) and like I can barely breathe.  I just want happiness and lightness and perfection for you both even as I want to keep you young and tiny and keep you all to...