2nd Night in a Row, Babysitting

So I nearly made myself cry this afternoon (for the first time in a while).

Your father asked if I could babysit (AGAIN) tonight.  A thought flashed across my mind, "Maybe he's planning a surprise party for me?  Wants to make sure I'm home?"

Both he & her ("My dad and them") arrived home, leisurely, ready to go out & be on their OWN time.  I spoke a sentence or two, then left.  They have NO interest in carrying on a conversation with me.  Maybe they don't know how to open up (poor kid) or focus on people other than themselves.

And tonight, at 8:45pm, he texts me.  Not "Is he asleep?" Tell him goodnight, or anything sweet like that. "I won't be home by 9. Can you turn off the clock?"  Simple, awful.  I want to stop paying you and I want to stay out with my girlfriend.  On a Tuesday night. No surprise there.

I'll say no in the future, because it will be weird to babysit in my old house (although I'll want to see how they've ruined my room.  The green couch, etc)

==
We had fun tonight.  I, in a fit of optimism and revenge of the Nice People, decided to give them a surprise & go to the 99 cent store with you.  We bought stuff for their 4 month countdown. $12 (people should be THRILLED to get my $10 surprise parties!!)
(I'm ONLY hanging around people like that from now on!!)

Coloring & sign making, and I drew a person, a cardboard cutout. (Hope they don't think it's me and burn me in effigy) then we made green bracelets, I got confused at first, but then caught up (you were impressed, "Go Tammy!")

Then you made a salad with your OWN salad dressing (GREEN lettuce! and mustard & oil & vinegar) then I made you an egg & we watched some of the Wrath of Khan (my first time!  Ricardo Montelban's plastic chest!  Cuban accent-like Ricky Ricardo) then I read a few chapters of "Indian in the Cupboard" (my greatest wish is to be given TIME & SPACE to write a long story like that!!)  You begged, but I made you go to bed by 8:40, when you were supposed to be in bed by 8!  Last night, your Mom called at 8:30.  You love her.

I love you.  I wish I could be there for you more.  And in the future.  I don't know what will happen....

"Goodnight, Tammy"

"Goodnight, Tammy"

You knocked and pushed the door open (I think you can see that I'm sitting on the green couch, when I sit with the light on).  The door gets swollen and hard to shut when it is cold outside and overly hot in the apartment.  It was a sweet thing, your father tends to think you are trying to stall, or that you are bothering me.  You are the most fun person I know and it was good to say good night.

When I first saw you this morning, your Dad & you were bundling up to go sledding in Ft Tryon Park (with, what's that kid's name?) I was going downtown to drop off some art for your Mom's theater show.

I saw you a few hours later, I was coming back and you guys were all going out. (Seems like the only time we see each other!) You were going on a tour of Superbowl Blvd, and then I guess you guys went to Whole Foods.

Your father came back & struggled with getting the internet to work (he's easily stressed!) and you and I played for a while.  I have bags of "stuff", I am a bit of a packrat, saving bits and pieces for us to play with.  Found cardboard bits, discounted bolts of cloth, tupperware containers from restaurants. You unwrapped a purple velvet long piece and I found a sheer golden one.  You are obsessed with things having powers, I declared sun and fire power, you said yours was a dark laser.

We were doing magic tricks, clumsily hiding folded up Post-Its between our fingers.  I showed you a trick where I had one hiding in my mouth, and tried to show that I moved it from my hand into my mouth.  You liked it a lot and wanted to show your dad; he was (overly) stressed and was trying to get you to eat dinner.

This last week was maybe the last time I walked you to the bus (he's just tired of paying).  Had you stay home alone while he went out with Amber.  As an "experiment".  You watched TV ("What's the problem?")

You can handle it.  (Even though when you first went out to meet Dagny & her Mom on the street, you panicked and buzzed to be let back up instead of just waiting.  But you are cool with it.  (I'm just sad to see you don't NEED me as much, and you are now being instructed to "pretend" I'm not home.  Less time together will be sad for me.

Your Mom asked if I knew of any rooms in the hood which might be available.  I wanted to say, this one.  I want to be out by summer, maybe April. I'd volunteer to move in with her, (to see more of you, frankly) but I can't trust her . . . (although I do love her as a friend, dearly). She broke up with Phil and I wonder how she's doing-mental health wise. Seems okay & stable.  I hope she stays that way.

The old man (Henri) down the hall, the one with the walker and the bad scoliosis, died last July.  I just found out by asking another neighbor (Mar--/Mer--??).

I had a realization that L might be dead too.  (He is, for all I know. We used to see him with his dog sometimes.  And his car parked outside.  But if his car isn't there . . . Is it bad to say I'm glad?  That I've filled my life with words and worlds apart from him.  And how much room that someone who is Bipolar takes up in your life.  How much room he and your Mom took over from me that summer.  Glad to have my own space in my head.)

This had been a perfect moment here, these past few years, I don't want it to end.  I don't want your Dad to get married, because then I'll leave.  And you'll be alone, more alone with them.  Even worse when they have a kid. I want you to always be able to turn to me.  Especially for pillow fights and making art.
I'm so glad you aren't a brat!!

The Song That Made Poppi Get Better

Monday night, just got off the phone with my Mom about my aunt, (Titia Concessao).  She'll be dying in another day or two.  That's what the nurse said, and nurses are always right.  At least they were when my Father was in the hospital.

But you wrote a song for your Grandfather, who has been in the ICU in Miami for 10 days.

"Sun Bright
Sun light
Put that Golden Light in Between
It's Happiness
What What
It's Happiness!!"

You sing it like a rap and you do a butt-shake dance.

It was adapted from a song about Pricker that you started to sing to me but I didn't get it.

Your Father was SO happy to see that his father was being taken off the respirator and could TALK!  (VERY drugged!)  He put you on and you sang your song to him.  But you said it was your song that got him better (you wrote it this morning or last night, in yellow marker)

You tried to engage me in a pillow fight, but you used the smallest pillow and it really hurt so I wasn't in the mood.  (And I try not to "rev you" up at night, your Dad finds it hard enough to get you to go to sleep.  So only pillow fights in the morning.)

And then you started calling me "Smelly Pits" and we played keep away in the hallway, between the glass doors.

And I have to go to Le Cheile for a meeting about TokoNoMAA moving from Taszo Cafe to the Hebrew Tabernacle.  That'll be the 3rd place it's been.  I don't know if my Mousetraps will go, someone has bought them!!

"I'm Not Mad At You"

9:09pm  I can hear you and your Dad giggling.  We just watched part of a movie with Kevin Spacey, K-Pax.  Stopped at 8 so you could have dinner.  It's kinda late now.

Today, we got ready to face the cold together (your Dad forgot to tell me last night, but I'm willing to forgive him a lot now).  You are researching about Tigers for school.  You asked me how to spell "Natural Geographic", you hunt & peck for your letters.  I was like that once. I even took TYPING classes in high school. (Because that's when I had my first access to keyboards, the first essay I really typed was on an "automatic typewriter" which didn't have the satisfying click-clack of a mechanical typewriter, but it "remembered" the essays that you wrote (that means it could store up to 5 documents!!).  My father was a Technical Writer and was always bringing home computer stuff before other people.   If he hadn't died when I was 11, I would have had an EXTREMELY different life.  Did I mention I'm NOT a natural Developer/Programmer?  It's SEVERELY holding me back in my career.  But if he had lived, maybe I would have been a stockbroker, or a Harvard Grad with an English Degree (and I'd have 3 kids and a divorce by now).  With those typewritten essays, I got a $500 scholarship to go to USC (For the favorite Author Essay, I wrote "Dr. Seuss", and defended it well).  I also got into Harvard, but I couldn't go because it was too expensive.  I also got a free ride to the College of New Rochelle, which got me "45 Minutes To Broadway".  You'll be typing automatically by the time you read this.

You said that the book you read last night with your Dad was "Tyrannosaurus Reg".  You said pages were falling out and it was really worn down, "but it still works"!!!

Historic and awful (but not THAT bad) It got down to 5, which felt like -11 with the windchill.  I put on 6 layers and you put on your striped Dr. Seuss red & white shirt, your burnt orange hoodie, your tan fall jacket and THEN your winter jacket.  It was so cold that we waited in the lobby in a building at the bus stop, I brought Cody (who wore his jacket), so I didn't wait outside with the other grownups/parents.  Dagny (Or Dag-on-y, like you like to say it) and the others are so eager to kiss their parents when the bus comes, I try to do a high five or something.  Or I talk about our secret signal (sticking out our tongues and wagging fingers in our ears), because I want to replace the nothing with a SOMETHING.  If your Mom can't be here, I want you to remember an awesome roommate.  Or at least a big circle of grownups who cared about you.

9:15pm You guys just said goodnight.  Your Dad said in half Spanish: "'Night, Nino!" with a smile in his voice. It sounded like a sweet interaction.  Just as he closed the glass door (which is practically soundproof), you shouted for him.  And shouted.  "Dad!" like 10 times.  He came back mad.

This afternoon, after you came home from school, you were reading (! GOOD! And surprising) And your father was playing drums (Good!) And Amber was cooking food. I mention this (and everything) not because it is remarkable, but because it is unremarkable.  Because someday you will forget.  And so will I.  And so will everyone else.

I also wanted to mention this because I try to be social every now and then, but I find it HARD with your Dad and A. ("T&A"-a joke you might get when you grow up!)  Both are very much in love with each other, and aren't very talkative otherwise.  When I went into the kitchen, I mentioned one of the first times I had met her.  A place called "The Underground" (Bway and 102), your Dad was playing & had mentioned it to me and said she'd be there.  It might have been after she had already moved in, or before.  I just remember not knowing her well then and hoping to go make friends with her.

I mentioned it to her.  She remembered.  And didn't say much else.  I always try to make myself available for conversation, or I'll ask a leading question to start a conversation.  And if she's in the mood to talk, she'll talk to me.  But generally, it's:
"Hey, Toby's playing drums.  Do you remember that place we hung out at once, on Broadway, near 102nd? A gig he had?"
"Oh yeah!  I think it was called The Underground!"
"Right!  Did we even know each other then?"
"---"
"I remember thinking, great maybe we'll finally get a chance to talk-but the music was so loud . . ."
"---"
"Funny, we should go out next time he does a gig!"
"---"
And then I gave up.

Again, I'm telling you this because I think that's just how she is.  Quiet.  Polite and pleasant, but not a talker.  Or maybe she doesn't like me.  Although I don't think she hates me.  I used to think she hates me.  I think they both tolerate me, I mean-I try to give them their romantic space.  And I try not to horn in on family time too much-although tonight I got engrossed in the movie . . . The thing is, I don't really FEEL welcome.  I mean I like my room.  I LOVE MY ROOM!! My little oasis/sanctuary.  And I'll be SAD, sooooo Saaaad!!, to leave.  But I need to move on from this household.

It was SO lovely when I first moved in, because your Mom would SHARE everything with me.  Well, no, maybe after that first year.  The Summer of Her Whirlwind, she invited me to go to Vermont for the 4th of July with you guys. And to NJ to the Beach (that picture, "Sunny & Sandy").  But I think she knew she needed a friend.  Her highs and lows were getting extreme then.  But it was LOVELY being a part of your family, even for a little while.  I believe in extended families.  And sharing.  (When I have whatever family I end up with, I'm going to share food with everyone all the time!)

9:32pm, it's quiet now, for a Tuesday night.  The pipes are making a weird racket, a drumming and there's some kind of demon sound coming from the radiator as well.  Or maybe that's the tv in the living room.

During the K-PAX movie, I pointed out the words: Astrophysicist, Assemblage and Perturbation.  I like watching it with subtitles, but it annoys your father.  I think it also makes you (YOU, KID!!) read subliminally (and you can make jokes over the actors). I also tried to talk about Mental Illness, some of the different kinds.  The word "Psychotic" being a general term.  And that guy who is always telling everyone that they stink; you said he was horrible.  When he stopped it, your dad asked, "Now is he an alien?  Or is he Cray-Cray?"  Films and society simplify these things so much.  (Films in particular, where the patients get to explain themselves eloquently-which seldom happens in real life.  That's why we call people "crazy", because they are upset at things that the rest of us DON'T see.  It doesn't mean their thoughts are not valid)

You went in to eat dinner and I got some water. A was trying to listen to "This American Life" while cooking for you (the three of you were in there).  I said, "This is NOT something you want to listen to when anyone is eating!" (About "Dopplegangers" and using bung, pork anus as fake calamari) But she kept saying "Shhh, Shhh, I want to listen!"  I'm deaf, so I know how awful it is to have one person talking over a radio, but in rooms like that I just give up.

I went back to my room.  A few minutes later I was about to go back in the kitchen when I stopped at the living room door & saw that there was A SCENE going on. You were standing up and covering your eyes, and your Dad was like "She's NOT mad at you" and she said it too, holding her hands up in a gesture of surrender.  But it WAS a little curt, and she sounded stressed, but not angry.  Maybe you were crying or upset from something she said or did.  I don't know what your relationship is like, or will be like, but I hope you guys can learn to read each other better in future.  I turned around and snuck back in my room.  I wasn't that hungry. 9:46pm

January 6, 2014, Blue Monday

Well, kid.

Today you got back into the routine for the year.

I walked you to the bus this morning.  After urging you to finish your cereal, and somehow we got into a game of writing a nonsense grocery shopping list. Including "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious".  and a bunch of your words.

It's been cold for the past week (20 degrees and lots of snow before you returned from Mexico).  Today it was 55 degrees.  A thaw, rainy and wet soaked through.  Tomorrow everything will freeze; they are warning people about it on the radio.

5pm Your father came home, exhausted.  I had texted him, asking him to get milk (although I feel so guilty everytime I ask him for anything).  He told me about how the antibiotics aren't working for his father.  He keeps sighing.  I didn't know what to do, so I offered him a hug.  He accepted it and graciously accepted a long hug, until I thought he was going to cry.  Don't worry, there's never been anything between us, except shimmering moments of friendship.  He told me--when I first moved in and was complaining about Amber having moved in without me being consulted, etc--he told me that I reminded him of your Mother.  I've tried not to ask for anything since.

6:30 You and I had searched my room for colored pencils.

I had to dig into my Art pile, which I honestly haven't touched in too long, months.  Since before I changed my room and pushed the bed against the closed window and put the green couch across from the door.  Before that, my bed was facing the door and we had to draw in the space between it and the window and the couch.  Yesterday, your father offered me two oriental style bowls and asked if I had any clutter to use them for.  Everywhere he pointed was clutter.

Of course, you found a package to play with, Glow in the Dark Markers.

Of course, my colored pencils were with YOUR colored pencils, on your desk, in the hallway.

7pm We dived into a coloring game, which we haven't done in forever (You have a tight schedule, kid, Little Red Rockets Afterschool program until 6, then homework, then dinner, then bed at 8).  The markers were slightly dried out (because I'm always SAVING things to be used one day, so even though the package was pristine, which you kindly pointed out, I was happy to use it.

I might have bought it for Scrumpy's Mom, Dawn, when she was coming out of the hospital.  But today, I've decided not to be friends with her anymore.  She gets VERY insecure when anyone gets mad at her, or is upset for any reason.  How can I be friends with someone who won't let me feel my feelings? And if I can't tell her what's wrong, how can we ever fix it?  That's what she should feel insecure about, losing friendships because the minute someone says that things aren't perfect, she begins to cry.  I don't want her to cry, so I don't tell her.  And pretty soon, like now, I stop talking to her entirely.

You did a GREAT Vampire Face (just the face part) and I was happy with the outline of a cat I did in a room, but which looked spooky as a single line and a mouse when it glowed in the dark.  You might remember that you did a paper airplane, which you could watch fly in the dark.  We kept running into the bathroom to check on our masterpieces.  They will only glow for 4 hours (or less, in the case of the back of my hand, I drew a face and it was gone in 15 minutes, by the time we showed "my Dad and Amber".

He got mad (at me) because you were having such a good time (and so was I) but he then had to be the "bad guy" and pull you away to have dinner and do homework and read before bed. (These are the years which will slip away so fast.)  He just finished all his classes a month ago, so maybe he can get some more rest.  (And when his father gets out of the hospital . . . )  You and I haven't had a day like this, coloring and playing and we were both so excited.  Your dad sees your energy level and knows it will be a struggle to get you into bed. Sigh.  No wonder he gets mad at me.

8pm I hide in my room while you eat your salad.  I write this and play an episode from CUNY's English Dept about Billy Collins and Paul Muldoon, the Poets.  I'm generally lonely and happy and unemployed and writing and having fun playing by myself.  (But I sense I need to move on when they get married)

8:30pm Your father just read a terrific story to you; I can hear his voice fluctuating wildly, exaggerated and fun.

Now you both are laughing, his laugh is low, but yours is a high giggle.  Juggling your laughter, like you'd buoy up a balloon in the living room.  It's lasting awhile.  I'm glad.  He's not feeling like the bad guy anymore.  I think he won you over.

The Last Before Christmas

Note to self: Write as a gift to Em.  Document with pictures ALL that is going on.  Write it to him as advice column, recording babysitting, etc.

Last night:

We’ve gotten Domino’s pizza repeatedly on Tuesday nights (even though the local one fired a bunch of delivery people and I saw a picket line-I can only fight you so much!)

You make paper airplanes in the vestibule.  Or try to hit me with my gloves or steal my scarf.  I try to amek sure we don’t go crazy with other people around, but yesterday a boyfriend pulled his girlfriend’s knitted cap over her eyes, playing around like we were.

You don’t like toppings.  I DO!! I ask for pineapple, cheddar and banana peppers. I even bought nice lettuce yesterday for you, dark green-the kind you like- NOT ICEBERG.  You complain that it was all WHITE! Yet you don’t like kale or spinach (and even complain that salad tastes like paper after a few bites)

You begged for peanuts (and we went crazy and got SALTED)

I’m a little sad that we couldn’t do another Xmas book this year, I really liked how it came out last year.  BUt I think you might be drawing less (me too!) and you seem to only have time for HOMEWORK and NEVER playing, or maybe jsut TV.

Your dad came home from his LAST CLASS.  (He now has 3 Master’s Degrees-unheard of in my parent’s day.  but I have 2 and even Amber has 2!)  And we are all still poor!!

We had a pizza party (and we even put peanuts on the pizza!!! We all tried it and it was much less overwhelming than suspected.

Your father hasn’t relaly invited me for the Xmas performances, you are a Narrator this year.  I wanted to hear you perform, but you couldn’t find your lines.

(Last year I asked, but the day came and went and he didn’t make it happen.  And I’m in Boston for this year. NEXT YEAR!)

When I picked you up yesterday, they let me into the building and told em to go up INTO the auditorium.  It was ENCHANTING to watch all the kids rehearse.  Now I know how it must feel so amazing for parents to feel proud of their kids. I sat for a few minutes, knowing you weren’t onstage.  You were wearing that cap I gave you.  Blue, with a tiny brim.  PErfect. (I got it from my friend who had a yard sale in Cape Cod.  We had called it a Dave Van Ronk fisherman’s cap, from the 50’s which was worn as a retro reference to the early 1900’s.  You wore it as Jack in the Magic Treehouse for Halloween.

When I showed you the clanedar my mom made of pcitures of me, you kept saying I look like a little boy (short hair)

I sang “Girl in 14G” last week to you.  We were hanign out in my room, on the little green loveseat and you asked for music.  Not from the radio(maybe the static was annoying ) “No!” you said, “YOUR music!”  I think I had only played Monkee music for you before.  But I sang, and I think you liked it.

This Xmas, you guys are singing “Consider Yourself” from Oliver, a Davy Jones song.

And “all You Need is Love” you are singing the “There’s nowhere you can be that isn’t known” part.

I dropped you off at 181 Cafe with your Dad last Friday.  Your Mom texted me and asked what I was doing for Xmas.  And asked if I wante dot come visit for the weekdn! (We haven’t spent more than 10 minutes together at 181, and she wants to open bck up! I’m hesitant, but friendly.  I WANT to have her back in my life as a friend.  And I love how she is so oepn and friednly and lets me in to your fmaily.  I’m accepting of Phil, and she’s secure with him.  Whereas I feel like your father has a deep insecurity/focused hormone-type love for Amber and they NEVER include me as “aprt of the family”.  I’ve JUST MET Amber’s parents as of 3 months ago.  

I think I’m part of Toby’s life with Rosanne and amber wants to jsut move forward.

When she told me about Toby giving her the ring, she said to hold the weekend of August 9th for her wedding. My first response: “Wow!  I’m invited?” (Because they have NEVER invited me to anything.  Ever.  period. parties, gatherings.  Even when they have people over, they don’t make a point to bring me into the conversation and exclude me.  I’d feel terrible about it, but I think that’s just how they are.  Amber is probably too young to clue into it, but Toby seems to have that from his father.  Your grandfather took you to my Mousetrap show at Taszo Cafe and seeme dvery nice, everyone seems nice in person.. i just do’t see them in person a lot. Or ever. (I had to tell him that you were a Medieval Knight for Halloween.  That’s the only other time we’ve exchnaged conversation.  Other than around your Mom’s whirlwind)

I told Toby that I probably should move out in the summer (I was hardly there last summer anyway, splashing around in Walden) I need to move on.  It’s VERY hard falling in love with other people’s kids.  Not that I want one.  I want to be with you (and your Mom) hanging out at the beach (Sunny and Sandy) and eating out and hanging out and  . . . And I don’t get that from living with Your Dad and Amber (never felt so alone living with so many people) I’d love to talk to you more about how I see things and life and whatever help I can give you.

We all have such different, busy lives. I’m very grateful for the moemnts we DO get to have together.

We all measured each other on the wall yesterday.  (Amber wasn't there) Your dad is a good 3 inches taller than me, which I still don’t believe.  AND YOU GREW 3 inches in almost exactly a year!!! (I think last year you measured it on the day your fmaily came for a visit. And you read your story about Santa using a goldfish as Rudolph!!

(Your Mom thanked me for giving you that journal with the Eye on it.  It got it from Dawn, Scrumpy’s Mom. I tried to write a story in Spanish in it, but you ripped it out.  And started rawing guys in it.  I had also tried to write you a story in Spanish about 4 glitteyr stones, but after you ripped the pages out, I lost the heart for it.  Even  though you told me to continue because you said, ‘I’m interested!”  the most positive feedbakc I’ve gotten about my writing!! (I don’t show things to people -outside of my writing group)

I got up today at 6:30 to watch you go off to school.

You held your head forward and I couldn’t tell if you were doing the Grinch or Cindy Lou Who. You looked very cute either way!

MATH Museum

We have been watching a whole morning's worth of cartoons.  You were up at 7:30 and we didn't leave the house until noon.  all cartoons all the time, until we were bored.  I remember Saturday Morning Cartoons. ALL Morning, until Captain Kangaroo around 11:30, and then just stuff for adults.  I had Bugs Bunny and Scooby Doo.

Your mom calls 2 hours before she's supposed to pick you up.  She sounds tired and also surrounded by death.  Of friends, of people who are not in the hospice circles.  People who are supposed to stay alive.  She can't come.  I hear your voice go dull, like it does on the phone when the distant parent is distant.  Darwinian survival.  It is the same tone of voice I hear when your dad calls and we have made it to Madison Square Park.  (And are eating our cookie & chocolate croissant, today I am spoiling you!)

Your dad said to go somewhere wacky, and because he's your dad, you imagine that he has a place in mind.  But I had walked by a few weeks before, I looked in and saw kids.  I wanted to go and I was even happier to bring you.  Turns out, it was kinda perfect.

MATH MUSEUM

We go inside and the first thing I see is the Triangle Trykes.  We try them on.  Then wander to a building-table where they have a huge number of erector set pieces.  Then we wander to The Matharium where you play on the computer, designing a Dodecahedron (12 sided shape) with many faces and vectors.  (There's a contest and I vote as much as I can) 

Then there's a car ramp game, where you have to negotiate with the other boys around you (more 7-10 year old boys in one space than I've seen anywhere!  Only one girl)  

Downstairs is a dance floor that changes every 20 minutes, you love that.  A fractal camera that makes you look like a tree of pictures of yourself and a laser cutter that creates a giant puzzle out of tessellations.  

Basically, you did everything as much as you wanted, we stayed for 4 hours.  It was awesome!!

I also taught you those three words, which you were happy to show off to your dad.  And he was impressed.

Excellent day, kid.

Examples from Someone Else

This is something for the Real Little Boy.  Another boy, trying to understand his own mother's Mental Illness.

http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/photobooth/2013/02/joshua-lutz-hesitating-beauty.html#slide_ss_0=15

The thing is, you never really understand what is going on in anyone's head.  We are all different people from moment to moment.  We can be kind.  Don't hold people up to expectations.  Love Love Love.

Schoolhouse Rock: Figure 8 on its side is Infinity

You were watching tv while your father napped.

You had just come home from school.  Maybe it was the show about Lego Ninjas.  Maybe the one about  Ninjago, or the Japanese plastic coins.  I remember the commercials and after every one, you said, "I want that"  or worse, "I'm gonna get that"

You are spoiled (mostly because you are loved, no worries, my dear Boy) :)

I tried to get you to turn off the tv as the next show started.  You protested, and as an adult, I should have fought harder.  Grabbed the remote and turned it off.  I also make the mistake of asking, "Do you want to go to the library?"  Because you say yes.  While still staring at the TV.

But we head off.  You had asked your father if you could have a granola bar at Jin's.  We go and you put down your 4 quarters.  But it is $2.  So I pull out a $20.  And take the quarters back and accept my change.  I ask you how much change I should get, 20-2? You say 8.  The clerk says you cannot have a job working for him.  (You are very good at math in school, but sometimes you get some questions wrong still.  I fear the mental model isn't too solid with you yet)

See also:  Figure 8 Cartoon sung by Blossom Dearie
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UCGNUo-XQJ8

You then proceed to whine for the next few blocks that it is YOUR money, those quarters, and how I should gave back YOUR money.  I try explaining.  Especially the part about being nice enough to essentially *give* you an extra dollar.  You keep whining.  I hand over the quarters and then require you to pay me back $2.  And you say "Psych!"  (or "Sike!", which is probably closer to the way you'd spell it, if you could spell)

I try to explain that "Sike!" doesn't work on adults (later you tell me it doesn't work on shildren.  Because of course, I had tried it on you)

If only I could tell you how I am down to my 2nd to last rent check.  How I have ZERO money coming in and fidn myself relating to that homeless Native American guy more and more.  (Especially when it hits 20 degrees).  How I have to make sure your father pays me $5 for the pizza, and why I really can't afford to get an entire pizza at Domino's.  How I imagine, thankfully, that you will probably never know hunger because your family truly loves you.  And how my mother is so eager to have me move back in with her.  And how tempting it is, because I don't seem to be wanted --wait, I'm wallowing here.  Sorry.

I had a terrific interview/talk with someone who runs a series of classes/workshops over in Brooklyn.  He was eager to have me teach and really liked hearing my shpiel.  The first in a long time.  It made me feel smart and appreciated.  He pays $40 an hour.  For a 3 hour class, x 3 weeks.  (120+120+120).  Another day, another dollar indeed.  360<365.  The total is less that half my rent.

I remember being your age, completely baffled by the idea of how grownups get jobs and then lives.  I had no idea how to go about that.  Now as a grownup, I feel baffled in exactly the same way.

The library was fun, we looked at a few books and you got 20 minutes of video games.  The first was, what kind of dragon are you?  You prefer an environment of a beach, and your biggest fear is to hurt the ones you love.  Another one involved 2 characters boxing.  You offered to have me play, but I didn't want to.  You couldn't understand why, it was so fun.

We came back and you immediately did your homework.  So you could get more tv.  I let you watch for 10 minutes, but then tried to get you into bed early (7 instead of 8).  We had a great chase over the remote controls.  I hid them in your father's drum room and then fought you off.  Then tricked you by letting you think I had moved them (you are gonna learn ALL my tricks soon!  I don't have that many)

The remotes ended up in your pillowcase, you ended up in bed with a book called "Ironsides" which is essentially a comic book about the Civil War.  We (I) read several pages and you got excited enough to tell your dad about it.  I gave over bookreading duty to him, as he harshed my buzz (and probably yours).  He asked about every panel and began to be angry that you seemed to be contradicting "grownups" when we were trying to explain (complicated) history to you.

You should know he raises his voice ALL the time. The same volume if he's stubbed his toe, if a page doesn't load on the internet or if a major tragedy happens.  I hope you learn this sooner rather than later.  It's taken me about a year and a half not to take him seriously at all times.

Library Tuesday:Babysitter Sitting on the Baby

Dear Little Boy,

You saw a poster with an actress holding "Light in the Attic" and noticed how funny it was that there was a drawing of a house on a guy's forehead.  We were sitting in the Non-Fiction, fun science book section, and I saw an image I was so familiar with, that I had actually taken it for granted.

We were in the Ft Washington branch (one of the few times we have walked anywhere alone, I just realized.  When your Mom was around, we did a lot of walking around the neighborhood.)

So I ran over to the kids section we were just in, where you found all the Cat Power novels. I had recognized it out of the corner of my eye, but it could be just an illusion.  I read one or two poems to you.  And we both laughed.  Especially the one about the Babysitter who thinks you are supposed to sit on the Baby.  You pointed out the feet sticking out from under her butt.

You got a 6 books (5 cat ones, 1 Bunnicula) and 3 DVDs, all Pokemon.  I got 8 books, some in Spanish, like Dr Seuss.  Some science-y ones too.  We need to do more science experiments.  Especially if your Dad is gonna be a science teacher.

One of the best things about being friends with someone is getting to share all your favorite stuff with them, to introduce it to them.  You get to experience it again for the first time.  Like the Monkees.  Like Shel Silverstein.  Like reading and telling stories and jokes.  (You called my name over and over and over again when I was in the bathroom, and when I got out, I did it to you too.  "Hey, hey, hey, hey....  Hi"  I guess we have a shared joke now)

We read a bunch of them when we got home.  And had pizza, I was really hungry, too.  Fun just hanging out with each other.  I told Jin that he had a nice smile when we saw him on 180th st on the way home.  You said, "I never hear anyone saying that someone has a nice smile,"  I hope I'm not teaching you to talk to strangers.  I think you were appreciating an act of goodwill on my part.  Simple. Beautiful.

(Later, after you had gone to bed and your dad and I both read Tintin to you.  I was thinking about what a lovely day I had had.  He asked if you "pressed my buttons", I think because we aren't related and I get to be a grownup, but also a friend, maybe a sister, definitely a roommate. we get to just hang out.  You are honestly the best, most honest relationship I have in my life right now.

When you were probably asleep and the house was quiet, I heard a story on "This American Life".  About a girl who grew up in a house where her father would get drunk and abusive and violent.  And to this day he denies it all.  I'm thinking that this "sickness in the head" involves a lot of forgetting.

I'm thinking here of the Grown Man.

I haven't heard much from him lately.  A weird set of drunk texts before New years, a quick email.  I still don't know if it's him not having enough confidence to talk to me, or if he is genuinely afraid to see anyone for any reason (especially when it might involve becoming friends with them).  Sometimes, I think I should be relieved that I've dodged a bullet.

I'm writing this to you because I think we are both in the weird place of loving people who have a mental illness.  I think that your Mom and him, my friend, (you said his name, his real name, not his nickname, Superman, a few days ago) have the same disease.  He told me his diagnosis.  Mixed Bipolar. I don't think your Mom has an official diagnosis yet.  Either way, they need to be careful.  And so do we.  They are both beautiful people who have moments of ugly.  Your Mom was really depressed and had to go away to deal with it all.

My friend, I think, hides, when it comes on.  But I think he hides when it isn't there too.  Just to be safe. He lives down the hall from us and I don't know what to do to make friends with him any more than I have already.  (I try to tell myself that he's not interested in my friendship.  Which is fine, and if I sensed that were the case, I'd leave it.  But when he talks to me, he opens up.  But he hasn't lately.  So I'm keeping my distance. And I'll be happy to, for the rest of my life. But if he needs me as a friend, I'm here.  I wish I could go back to being friends with your Mom too, because I think she needs a friend.  But she scares me. And I think I've betrayed her deeply.  She'll never forgive me and I've seen her angry now. So I can't go back to trusting she won't blow up at me. I need friends who won't do that.)

Do you remember your Mom's birthday last year?  We walked down to Buddha Bar on Broadway and 190th.  You discovered I had a video camera on my phone and took shots of the bar.  You had such energy that you were running back and forth in front of us and at one point, you ran all the way up that steep hill that has the old houses with the bad vinyl siding on them.  The VERY steep hill.  A guy came up behind us and joked with you as you were running and you guys ran up together. And then you ran down.  joyful.  I still remember that.

Maybe that's what else I'm here for.  To remember your memories for you.  Clearly.

Your Funny Father

I am writing this down because right now, it is not funny.

(But it will be in about 10 years, or less)

You, Little Boy, do not like to eat food.  You'll nibble at a few bites of bagel or hot pretzel or cereal or pizza or chicken nuggets.  Maybe apple and celery.

And the idea of new food (broccoli, pasta!, or soup, goes against your very being.  Your Mom's family had very sensitive noses and she hates Cilantro, so you've probably got some sensitivity gene.)

And your Poop is large and scary.  (And kinda funny, how can something that hard and large come out of such a tiny, skinny body?)  And it clogs the toilet regularly. (Ironically enough, because you are not so regular)

Like a scene in a movie, think "A Christmas Story" (not "Godzilla"), your father is driven crazy by this.  He gets very angry and frustrated.  He keeps a knife in the shower.  Y'know, to cut it up.  Unless, of course, your crazy roommate decides to flush it.  And cause a clog.

The bottom of the toilet bowl is utterly scratched up and you can hear him swearing for miles.

We need to put Metamucil (that old people's stuff) in your drinks.

==
Your Father and I tried to talk to you about your Mom today. And you got goofy.  (Which is some coping mechanism, like reverting or just being silly when we are trying to find emotional resolution.  But I get it.)

You knew about last summer, before "all that stuff" happened.  How sad she was (and I asked you if she was happier since then, because I hope it's true.  I want it to be true.)  I asked you to give her a hug for me.  After Xmas, she texted me that she SHOWED you all the texts she sent me.  About me jumping the gun.  I think if I had gone over there to talk to her, I would never have been sure about leaving her alone.  She wanted me to babysit you to give her time off (I didn't want to leave her alone).  And I called.  And I don't regret that.
I'm sorry that you guys had to see all that, all the police and the ambulance.  But I'm glad she got help.  I don't know how it could have happened any other way.

I love you guys.  Give her a hug because I never will be able to.  I don't think she'll ever forgive me.  (And I don't know how to be friends with her any more)

==
It's the coldest night of the year. 25 degrees.  It's nice to be in this apartment. (I have all my art and Mousetraps up on the walls.)  I wonder what this room was like back when they were still in love.  I think they fought a lot back then too.  Sometimes, that's how people love.  They allow themselves to FEEL strongly when it comes to someone else.  (Which is awful!  And wonderful.  Maybe Love can make you act like a Bipolar person a little.  Some happy some sad).  And you want them near you all the time when they are gone and you can't stand them when they are near.  It's painful and mysterious.

Good luck to you, kid. When you find your loves in life.  Enjoy them and treat them well.  And let them treasure you.

Drunk Texting

So you wanted to reach out a few days after Xmas. You gave me a present before I left, so I'm guessing we're still "friends".  Even though we haven't connected since we talked after Sandy Hook.  (Boy, was I a mess)

I'm 200 miles away.  Watching "The Way We Were".  And you start texting me.

8:26pm
"Have a good new year.""With plenty of health."
"And warmth and good work and all good things."

8;53pm
"It's hard to find one's calling"
"Death, as I have learned, presses the question."
"Particularly our own deaths"

I tried to call.

"Ar dinner,  we are"
"Reverse word order"

"RToward the end of his life, Charlie Parker went to morgues to look at people.  He said he was "looking for a friend".  He would ride the A-Train for hours and hours"
"You are confusing him with John Coltrane")
Relatively okay.) (Response to R's mom)

10:20
"I am a dark soul.  Be careful"

No matter what I write to you, you are not responding to me.  I'm guessing (from experience) when you write to me on Fridays or Saturdays, that you have been drinking.

I tried sending you pictures of art I saw on New Year's Eve (I was wandering around Northampton)  No response.

I wrote to you, a week later, literally just "Hi!"

You sent back an email saying that you were going out of the country.  That day.  Which means that your plans have changed and that someone's mother is sicker than you realized.  It also means that maybe the jet lag is going to kick in like it did last time.  You won't be able to sleep for 48 hours, or longer.  And that makes anyone crazy. ("The difference between neurosis and psychosis is 2 hours of sleep").

I don't understand what you are trying to tell me.  And why you can't talk to me during the day, normally.  And I wish you could explain yourself.

And I'm not expecting that you will ever talk to me again.  (And I'm okay with that)

A Different Kid on Lined Paper

From the Sandy Hook School, a kid in his last moments.  On lined paper, not a strange and terrific sea creature, but a message of Love in the moments before the bullets came for him.  

(I was so happy to see you coming home w/your friend D on a Friday afternoon.  She was wearing a red Christmas dress and you watched Rudolph on DVD.  And were giggling.)

This Too Shall Pass

Dear E,

I'm so sorry that you will grow up with the phrase "school shooting" as part of your vocabulary.

Just heard on the radio that they are reporting that there are 27 dead in Connecticut, 18 of them being children.  (I'm crying as I write this).

The first time I heard about this, I think I was in college.  It was such a shock, that anyone would be so frustrated and think that this is a way to get some kind of a revenge or whatever they think it would solve.

I wish I could teach you how to deal with all sorts of negative feelings.

The only advice I can give, is something that was give to me by one of my personal heroes.  (PT, that blonde guy on my favorite tv show.  He wrote it in my writing notebook.  I have it framed.)

THIS TOO SHALL PASS.

When you are sad, angry, upset, terrified, worried, stressed or whatever else will come to you in the course of becoming a human-just know that it is all temporary.

Don't do anything you can't take back.  Don't try to hurt yourself or others (more on this later!) and mostly, DON'T GIVE UP.

(Of course, you may realize that this means that all the good stuff will pass too.  Hold the good stuff in your heart.  Take pictures with your mind of the smiles of all of your friends.  Keep them with you at all times.  Work hard to make the Happy Moments as real as the Sad ones.  The sad ones won't need your help, they are strong enough)

I feel sometimes like I am responsible for you.  There are some cultures that say if you save someone's life, you are forever responsible for them. I don't know how I can help you, I can't protect anyone-least of all, myself.  This is why I'm collecting all these pictures of life in these moments.

These Happy Moments.  (They've helped me to get centered.  Hopefully they can help you too.)

Getting out All The Toys To Battle

Babysitting session 12/11/12, 5-7:15pm

There are several teams.

The teams you judged weakest will be fighting first.   The first round consists of 1 “Abdominal”/ AbominaBable Snowman who came as part of a Lego set, a single white baby Tiger and a series of 8 Elephants on keychains, each painted slightly differently.  The Elephants form a circular blockade, all facing inwards, around the Tiger, who is their King.  The Snowman is the strongest and is generally sent out to do the gruntwork. The Elephants and Tiger came from their perch on my windowsill. I think this game started when you asked me what animal I could be if I could be any animal at all. I said a horse, and you seemed disappointed. You said a White Tiger and I told you to close your eyes while I ran to get it and make it appear magically before your very eyes, when they opened again.

The team they are fighting includes a Bear, a Rhinoceros (song:" I want a hippopotamus for xmas"!) and a Lion, all made out of paper cardboard cutouts which fit into slots to create a 3D effect.  You have colored the bear brown, but I see that his feet are on backwards, so I take his sides off and now he looks like he is wearing a funny coat.

The animals take turns fighting the Snowman, and since you are in charge of the Snowman team, the Snowman will end up always being stronger.  Today’s fight seems to take awhile.  The Elephants begin to get restless and joke with each other about how dull the fight is.  One animal gets knocked into the couch, and because of his small stature, takes an absurd amount of time to reach the cushion.  60,000 years later, while the flying cry is still being heard, a large bouncing sound is heard.  The Elephants begin to reminisce about stories they had heard from their great-great-grand elephant fathers about the legendary fight between the Snowman and the paper Lion, when all of a sudden the Lion lands in their midst!!  The Snowman wins anyway.

There is a Hulk of normal colors with a button on back that can bring his fists together to smash someone or to pinch their nose (which is what we do), and a Hulk of clear green plastic, a Batman figure who is somehow disqualified from the game and a Claw guy who falls down alot.  You tell me to write his name down as “Weird Aliens Combined”, which I think is a much better name anyway.  Somehow, they might get matched up with my team of 3 larger-than-a-matchbox cars, convertible style, from the 1950’s.

There is also a jungle team.  1 giant rubber snake, 1 articulated salamander of wood, 1 steel salamander, (just like one my friend got in Venezuela) 1 tarantula spider, 1 tiny blue frog, and a 2 humped camel who comes with his own desert ground.  There is also a supporting green Lego dragon named Scroth [your spelling is Sckoth] who has a guy in white riding on his back.
There are 4 sets of plastic dragons with baby dragons which can somehow fit onto their backs.  There is a niche between their wings, and somehow the baby dragon wings expand just enough to fit into the moulded space between the bigger shoulders. I imagine you imagine they are Daddy and Son, and how it must fit into your mind as neatly as your father and you.  

1 set is blue with yellow wings, 1 is black with silver wings, 1 is salmon with yellow wings and 1 is silver blue with orangey-gold wings.  You tell me that “They are good dragons, but they need to bruch their teeth. Really, look, they are all brown!  And tat one with fire coming out of his mouth needs a drink of water so his teeth won’t get burned.

At some point, I make sure we transition into your writing homework. I decide I have writing homework too, (you have no idea that I carry a notebook around with me everywhere I go and that I love to read and write, and I hope you will too someday). When you hear that I have written down my list, you have to have a list of your own for the story about Sea Creatures that you are doing for your writing homework (which is usually a “Yuck!”, but again, I have tricked you into realizing that writing can be a way to be creative. Ha HA!).  

You have 6 sea monsters, one with fire scales, one with turquoise and purple polka dots, one with black and white stripes, one green, one orange and one with little santas on him. (!!)  When I ask if you have spelled “turquoise” like I have spelled it, you say yes.  I do not question you further. 

There is a string of plastic silver Christmas beads which are meant to go on the tree, but you have realized (as I did) that they are much more fun to play with when they are off the tree.  As you read to me what you have written, you play with these beads with your feet. They make a rich sound, almost as if they are made of real silver, and you are a rich prince, playing idly with your precious metals.

When you ask me what I have written, I read this to you and you smile at me in recognition of all the words you have just uttered.  I think I got it right.

We draw monsters. I do one from "Where the Wild Things Are", one of the dragons and the camel.  

You do your turquoise polka dotted sea creature and the black and white striped one. You even write down a checklist, so you'll know which ones you did.

After you brush your teeth, you ask to see a picture of me as a child. In it, I am your age. 8. I have my arms folded and you think I look mad, but I think I look satisfied and as if I take everything for granted as an only child. Your father gives me a look, he knows you are trying to avoid going to bed.

I wish I could tell you bedtime stories like my father told me. (Instead I'll write them here).