Thumb watch. 2009. Thanks to all those who have wished me and my thumb well these past few days. I’ve now released my thumb from the humangous beast of a bandage that imprisoned her a week ago, and I’m now operating at about 85%. Only a plaster is visible to the naked eye, but what lies beneath is fairly Frankensteinian.
Until the stitches heal and the nail starts to grow again, I need to keep the thumb dry which I do with various forms of latex such as the finger cot
and the latex glove. I asked Gabriella if she we wanted to play airport to which she replied, “What??”
“C’mon, Gabiella! I’m ready to perform cavity searches!” She was not so keen. Perhaps she was simply concerned that I might further damage my already vulnerable thumb. Hopefully, I’ll still have some gloves left over after the thumb has healed. She might be more amenable then.
Enough of my pain and suffering. I should carry on...with some more pain and suffering. Shabbat services with our young, uncooperative children. Weekly worship is always a better idea in concept than in reality for my little family. These are the weekly services that we attend more often than not that are choreographed for the younger audience. It’s Shabbat with happy-clappy songs and movement and a few abridged prayers in the space of an hour. We go because we’re building that Jewish foundation and sense of community for our children. I go because I got sucked into leading it every few weeks, and because it’s only an hour, and we don’t have to be there until 11am. Our kids are our ticket to Shabbat-lite. As long as we have young kids, we get a pass from earnest grown-up prayer that begins at 9:30 AM and carries on until noon. I’m thinking that after our children are older, I might rent someone else’s just to get a few more hours of sleep in the morning.
Asher sits down and within 2 minutes whines that he is hungry. The exchange is the same every week.
A: I’m huuuuuuungry.
D: Well, you should have eaten more at breakfast.
A: I’m huuuuuuungry.
D: You’re not hungry. You’re just looking for something to do instead of paying attention. Why don’t you sing some of the songs with me, and then you won’t think about food.
A: NO! I want to eeeeeeeeaaaaaat something.
D: Can you wait? The service is very short, and then we’ll have Kiddush at the end of the service. (Kiddush is the spread after services. Cookies are standard offerings.)
A: But I’m hungry nooooooowwwww!
G: Just give him something.
D: Fine!
The lesser of two evils. If I bring in the magic bag with the cheddar bunnies, fig bars and raisins, then the boys are munching throughout the service which means they are not singing along with the leader and definitely not doing the movements that go along with the songs and clearly not connecting spiritually to their faith. If I don’t bring the magic bag with us, then we are without any kind of snack distraction for the entirety of the hour and the alternative to snacking can take the form of high pitch whining to running around the room to bouncing off walls and creating a general ruckus that distracts and annoys everyone else. At least when they’re eating, they stay in their seats.
Yesterday, after I gave-up trying to convince Asher that Shabbat songs were fun, I surrendered to his pathetic pleas for animal crackers and gave him a container full enough to keep him busy for at least 15 minutes. Gabriella and I were able to focus on Levi who was obsessed with the little girl sitting next to him and her baby doll. The minute the girl put baby down to dance to one of the many jazzy, Jewish songs, Levi made his move. He abducted that baby doll and refused to let go even when baby’s mummy was finished moving and grooving to the Jewish beat. He wasn’t trying to take what didn’t belong to him just for the sake of it. He wanted that baby. He became Edwina McDunnough in Raising Arizona before my very eyes. He wanted to hug it and hold it and poke at its eyes-out of love, of course.
It was a struggle, but eventually baby was returned to its mummy. Levi was devastated. Gabriella could not wait to get to the store to get Levi his own baby doll. We had no baby in the house. Asher was never interested in dolls. Gabriella took her mission seriously and was home before Levi awoke from his afternoon nap with an Unbelievably Soft Air Baby whose stomach gets blown up like a balloon for that soft, pillow like feel all newborns apparently have. And no baby doll could ever come home without her accompanying push chair. I’m assuming she’s a she. The packaging shows a little girl cuddling her Unbelievably Soft Air Baby dressed from head to toe in pink and a headband worn across her head a la 80s aerobic style with a big flower attached to it.
I know that there are baby dolls dressed in blue packaged for boys. I know that there are blue push chairs for the discerning boy baby doll. Gabriella said the toy store only had pink on offer. It was obviously more important to bring home baby – any baby. Why should it matter? Why shouldn’t Levi have a girl baby doll? Why shouldn’t his push chair be pink? Who cares? I know that it’s only because Levi has 2 moms that I even think about it. If I were parenting with a man, I’d thumb my nose at gender stereotyping, and I wouldn’t think twice about buying dolls dressed in pink. But, we are 2 moms...and my thumb is currently out of commission. And I think about these things.
So, I’m in the process of getting over it. Levi loves his doll, and he has no idea that the baby is a girl or that he’s pushing around a girlie-man stroller. Most of the time, he’s ramming stroller and baby into walls which is clearly manly behaviour. Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus on more important things like doing some laundry before I have to start choosing between turning my underwear inside out and going commando.
William Wants a Doll - From Free to Be, You and Me. If you subscribe to the blog and receive only text, I hope you'll take a few minutes to log into the site and enjoy this childhood favorite reminding us all that it is just as valuable for boys to learn how to be good fathers as it is for daughters to learn to be good mothers.
5 comments:
So much to say!
First, next time I'm at the endodontist, I'll pick up a couple of dental dams for you. Finger cots and dental dams together? Oh, just thing of the safe fun you could have!
Second, I feed Hannah right before services, and she still usually finds a way not to participate. If she'd sit quietly munching on snacks I'd be thrilled. Maybe I should stop feeding her before Synagogue and bring one of your magic snack bags instead!
Third, I find it interesting that you assumed the dolls dressed in blue were for boys. They are clearly parked in the "girl" aisles at the toy stores. I always assumed that the manufacturers just intend them for little girls who want boy dolls.
Don't worry, if Levi is anything like my kids, that doll will be naked in a matter of days and, save for the girly pink stroller, no one will have any idea its gender. (-;
Oh.my.lanta.
He is just too cute!! Eep!!
He's very cute with his baby. My daughter has one of those blow up baby dolls. It's weirdly fascinating. I'm glad you can't pull my belly button out and blow me up.
If I recall accurately, few children enjoy services. When they get older, though, they look back on those experiences with a sense of warmth and nostalgia. And they then bring their kids to services to connect with tradition and to relive their own childhood memories.
As for the stroller/baby business, my nephew wanted nothing else but a big baby doll for Christmas last year. We were all told to act as if it were the most natural thing for him to open the gift on the holiday and we all performed our parts as expected.
However, between the making of the Christmas list sometime in November and the actual holiday, his interest in dolls had waned and he shrieked hysterically upon opening said gift. Was he tipped off that boys don't play with dolls? Will he suppress these desires and end up wearing women's panties when he's older? Who knows. I do know that my parents are unlikely to buy him women's panties as future holiday gifts, though they had few qualms giving him a big doll.
you people make me want to write more. your comments are sweet and hilarious and oft times thought provoking. i'd like to package you all up and put you in my pocket...especially if you could move around a lot when you're in there. is that wrong?
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