Melissa Anne Cohen

Fourteen years of marriage is different than I thought it would be.

It’s waking up early too early, worrying about kids, and money and jobs.  It’s turning on the coffee pot that he got ready the night before and checking the heat to make sure it didn’t drop too much overnight.  It’s a king size bed with a sleeping child snuggled up against him.  It’s folding laundry while the shower warms up, and wishing your sleepy husband a happy Valentine’s Day/anniversary in one breath, and asking him to get rid of the dead mouse in the trap in the kitchen with the next.

It’s coffee while the kids are sleeping, wondering when we’ll be able to fit in that date night we’ve been promising ourselves for three months.

It’s calling him when you’re frustrated and hurt, needing him to talk you into doing what you know you need to do.

It’s coordinating kid pick up and kid drop off, trading responsibilities according to who has the most flexibility at that moment.

It’s watching him play minecraft for hours, because your little boy sharing something he loves is worth more than anything.

It’s roundtrips across Worcester, twice, and ending up bringing him home anyway, because sometimes playdates are hard.

It’s listening to your five year old sob and yell her way thru an exhaustion temper tantrum with you, while your husband is chilling out in the next room, and not hating him for it, because you know he needs it.

It’s planning a bat mitzvah.

It’s knowing that your van has snow tires and his doesn’t.

Fourteen years is missing some of the romance, I guess.  It’s less about proving to each other how much we care, and more about living our lives together.  It’s about still arguing over communication, the fights you start off having are the ones that you continue, but it’s also about knowing that nothing is really going to change, and that’s okay.  It’s knowing that you have a partner.  That your world works because there’s two of you.  It’s knowing that he’s seen you at your worst, and still thinks you’re beautiful.   It’s knowing that he sees you in his children and loves them a little more because of it.  It’s seeing him in your children and loving them a little more because of it.

It’s dreams of the future, and goals that are being met.  It’s the every day struggle of trying to make everything work, and dirty dishes, and can-you-think-of-anything-different-for-dinner-that-the-kids-will-eat.  It’s Shabbat dinner with everyone talking over each other, and dishes, always dishes.  It’s overflowing bookcases, and baby dolls all over the couch.  Legos on the floor, audio books in the car, and too many dollhouses to count.  It’s unmatched socks, it’s lost cups of coffee that he finds and brings to you before they get too cold.

Fourteen years isn’t about flowers and chocolates, it’s about steadfastness and constancy, and laughter.  It’s about deciding that what’s best for both of you, and doing that.  It’s about wearing his shirt to bed, and him clearing off your car before you leave for the day.  It’s so much more than romance, it’s so much more than you thought it would be.  It’s forever.  It’s a family and a life and a world that you always dreamed of having – one that simply wouldn’t have existed without him.

Happy anniversary, Marc.  I can’t imagine what my life would be like without you, and am grateful every day for the world we’ve created together.

I didn’t blog for the past month.   For a variety of reasons, and someday I’ll blog about them, but right now, suffice it to say that January was a BAD month.  But we’re all still here, healthy and hanging in.  17 days until the bat mitzvah, and we’re actively searching for a dog as an emotional support animal for my little guy.   Julianna is reading now, sounding things out, and is so proud of herself.

Julie had a rough night last night (which is, thank God, incredibly rare).  There are days when I want another baby, when I think about being pregnant and having a tiny little one again – and then I have a night like last night.  She was asleep by eight, but up at midnight, and then every two hours after that.  For no real reason – she wasn’t even talking.  Just whimpering… but it’s enough to make me rethink that whole wouldn’t-it-be-fun-to-do-it-all-again thing that I do periodically.

Jessie broke her elbow a week and a half ago, and we’re all suffering along with her.  One of the glories of Jessie is her emotional intensity – and the fact that she feels everything 150% makes her life either incredibly challenging or incredibly wonderful.  Yesterday, she managed to sprain (because it would just be ridiculous for her to have broken it, I refuse to believe it) her big toe.  She was locked out, and kicked the door, as hard as she could, over and over again.

Sammy – my Sammy.  It’s been a tough road for my little guy, and we’re still trying to figure it out.  He’s had health issues which aggravated his anxiety issues – and we’re in the middle of trying to figure out the best path forward.  Homeschool, on-line school, deschooling, in-home tutors – it’s all on the table, and I don’t have a clue as to which is better.  There’s no way to know with any certainty, and it’s… well, that’s why I haven’t been blogging.  But he’s healthy, relatively, and when he’s not incredibly stressed and anxious, he’s great.  Cuddly and sweet, and hopeful that we’ll figure it all out.

I’m disconnected from it.

I don’t know why exactly.  I think part of is that I’m was so very involved for a while there, and ended up feeling really unsuccessful.  Part of it is certainly that I was just there all the time, and now need a break.  And of course, the fact that I’m now working part time, combined with the reality that only one of my kids goes to religious school, means that Saturday mornings, I have to stay home and clean.

But I think a part of it is that Jessie’s bat mitzvah is coming up, and I’m not feeling it at the synagogue.   I feel it, all the time.  I feel it, the stress, the worry, the pride, the weight of it – I feel that all the time.  My morning phone calls from my mother when she nags me about the decorations I haven’t bought, when I look at the guest lists with the missing invitations, when I start to panic about the catering.  (By panic, I mean continue to panic about it, because ever since Marc decided it made perfect sense to do it ourselves, I’ve been existing at a low-level of panic on that situation.)

But I don’t feel it at the synagogue.  I feel very unprepared for this bat mitzvah, I feel as though Jessie is woefully unprepared for this.  Despite the fact that she’s been going to Hebrew school since she was five, and studying for this for two years, she still feels lost and overwhelmed.  Worst of all, she feels like she’s not good at it – she feels like a failure and hasn’t even gotten to it yet.  I feel like I don’t have the foggiest idea what she’s doing up there, and even less about what I’m going to be doing.

I’ve got a big support system, friends that you’d kill for, a mother who’s dying to do more.  And I’m sure the bat mitzvah, the whole thing, from the service to the party, will be lovely.  But I’m not connected to the synagogue, and worried about the service.  I worry about the party too – because there’s a lot more logistical stuff going on there for me to panic about, but the service is this huge unknown to me.  All I know is that I don’t entirely know what’s happening, I don’t think Jessie is ready or feels good about her part in it, and I can’t wait until that part is over.

There’s something wrong with the system.  I’m not sure what exactly.  Because it seems like such a lovely idea – to take these kids, on the precipice of adolescence, and have a ceremony where they formally join the community of adults.  Where we say – we love you, so so much, and we’re so happy we have you, and you are ready, now, to be considered an adult in some really significant ways.   You are in charge of your identity, your relationship with the Divine and with your community.  We’ve done our best, we raised you to this point, and you are so ready for this next step.  But the manifestation of this process – the bat mitzvah process, at least for me, as a Jewish convert who’s still feels so very much out of place, it’s seems to be perfectly designed to make me feel like I’m forcing my daughter into a process that makes her feel like a failure, and I have no clue about what I’m doing.

There’s not a lot of support, for the Jewish convert mom trying to get her kid thru this.  Maybe there shouldn’t be, maybe the theory is that once you convert, you’re just good to go,and somehow all the other converts absorb by osmosis how to get this done.  How to not feel baffled and inadequate when it comes to planning this huge party, this enormous service.  Maybe it’s more me – I felt so baffled and inadequate at planning a wedding that I did in my mother’s backyard.  I don’t like planning parties this big.  My idea of a fun party is pizzas and grownups in one room, while the kids run around outside.  I’m good at those parties.  A bat mitzvah is something else entirely.

Seven weeks from yesterday.

I’m so tired, I can’t bring myself to start the whole going-to-bed process.  Get Sam his meds, coax them into brushing their teeth, watch Gilmore Girls with my little girl, nag Jessie about her math homework, yell at Sam for not falling asleep yet.  Just.can’t.do.it

I’ve been a little down today.  Partly because there was just so much to do – laundry and dishes and vacuuming and grocery shopping and more laundry.  But mostly because I know that tomorrow is coming, and Sam’s stomach is starting to hurt him again.  He started complaining more and more as the week went on – and while I can deal with him having stomach pain at home, and by that, I mean that HE can deal with it, he distracts himself or snuggles up next to me… having stomach pain at school is a whole different scenario.  Having a stomach ache at school is a recipe for disaster.  It’s phone calls from the nurse, it’s him crying and me feeling awful.  It’s arguing with the principal, it’s explaining to my little guy that he just needs to suffer with it, because he can’t come home.  It’s me feeling like crap, utter and complete crap, and him feeling even worse.

Okay – maybe that’s really what the problem is.

I’m also a little freaked about the bat mitzvah coming up.  Two months to go, I don’t have invitations, I barely have the invite list put together.  My caterer just broke her poor little leg, and I’ve got to find globes and decoration and nametags and cups and silverware and assign the honors and set up an rsvp email.  Oh my God, I get more and more stressed just thinking about it.

So maybe it’s not that I’m tired, it’s that I’m so overwhelmed and stressed that I don’t want to move because then I’ll start thinking again.  Thinking about my little boy, hurting and having to suck it while he’s at school all day with teachers who think he’s faking it.  Thinking about the enormous list of things to do (and pay for) for my daughter’s bat mitzvah, the one she’s spent years dreaming of and planning.  There’s no way I’ll live up to her expectations.

Maybe a good night’s sleep will help.  It’s been a rough several nights here, with New Year’s Eve kicking off a trilogy of nights that ended later and later.  Julie napped the past two days and was up past midnight each night as a result.  So I’m sleepy, and feeling a little bit… overwhelmed and stressed and exhausted.  It’ll get better.  It will, right?

I didn’t blog anywhere near enough this year.   It was a good year, overall.  Filled with changes and adjustments, and a broadening of everyone’s world.  One of the things that got lost, a little, was my writing, and I’m hoping to do better this year.

But in keeping with tradition, here are my favorite posts from each month…

January – January started the snow.  I think I was also achingly aware that I was starting a big year, one that I’m still coming to terms with.  There were so many changes that happened this year, and even though I saw most of them coming, it was still a struggle to adjust to the new reality.

http://www.melissaannecohen.com/kindergarten/

February – I’ve got two this month.  One is my Valentine’s post, and one is about the accident.  Both of these stand out for me, one because I’m still, always, so grateful for all that Marc brought into my life, and I never think I pay enough attention to that, and one because… this is still a memory that makes me panic a little bit, and I find that I’m still dealing with the ramifications today.  The thought of driving down the icy hill scares the bejeezus out of me.

http://www.melissaannecohen.com/happy-valentines-day-2/

http://www.melissaannecohen.com/my-kids-probably-wont-be-at-school-tomorrow/

March – I had some computer issues in March, and only blogged a few times.  But this is a sweet little one that still makes me smile…

http://www.melissaannecohen.com/my-boy/

April – Because he still does.

http://www.melissaannecohen.com/he-still-cleans-the-vomit/

May – I was just on the cusp of some pretty major changes, with Julie graduating preschool and it was the month before I started working.  So I picked two for this month, one where I seem to be trying to get some clarity on this stage of my life that was ending – and one because seven months later – you still really shouldn’t invite my five kids to Shabbat dinner.  They’re insane.

http://www.melissaannecohen.com/and-then-she-was-five/

http://www.melissaannecohen.com/reasons-you-shouldnt-invite-my-five-kids-to-dinner-on-friday/

June – I started working on June 2, and the post for this month is about my first day.  It still kind of feels like my head is spinning…

http://www.melissaannecohen.com/i-dont-know-how-she-does-it/

July – this is one of my favorite memories from this summer.  It really was a great day.

http://www.melissaannecohen.com/picnic-fridays/

August – I picked this one, because in so many ways, I loved going back to work.  But in one very specific way, it was (and is) still really hard.

http://www.melissaannecohen.com/i-miss-them/

September – this one isn’t a cheerful little post, but September wasn’t a particularly cheerful month for me.  This was one of the reasons why – watching your child struggle is never easy, and not knowing why isn’t even harder.

http://www.melissaannecohen.com/crappy-days/

October/November – I was just busy.  Really, really busy.  I barely blogged at all these two months, but this is a pretty good representative of where I was, mentally, those two months.

http://www.melissaannecohen.com/stolen-moments-2/

December – This was a good month, overall.  Whether it was because Marc and I are going to be together for 13 years next month, and we’ve just worked thru all the issues, or because I was so busy running between work and kids and laundry and dishes and trying to deal with Sam’s health issues that I just didn’t have time to think about it, I’m not sure.  But it was still December so I’ve got a December Dilemma post as well as a post on Sam’s health issues.

http://www.melissaannecohen.com/december-dilemma-defensiveness/

Recovery

I’m not a New Year’s girl, exactly.  Rosh Hashana is my favorite Jewish holiday, so I get my fill of New Year’s feelings back in the fall.  And my birthday is coming up later on in January, and that’s when I do most of my introspective New Year’s stuff, in terms of resolutions and looking back.  But tonight’s New Year’s Eve, and if nothing else, it’s wrapping up the Christmas vacation and that’s worthy of a blog post in and of itself.

Christmas this year was nearly perfect.  It’s never an easy holiday and that’ll probably never really change for me.  Too weighted with emotional baggage from the conversion and family stress – and also too colored by past memories of it being awful.   Too much pressure to make it perfect, this line in the sand that I’ve drawn and insist on celebrating each year.  But it gets easier.  Reclaiming it helps – redefining traditions and doing my best to be gentle with myself.  Christmas eve was spent at my mom’s house, with the kids bopping around and quiet family time.  That night we went out to dinner with all our friends.

One reason I did the Christmas Eve chinese food is that I know there are no guarantees.  And I don’t want them, in terms of my kids celebrating Christmas.  Or being Jewish, for that matter.  They’re going to grow up and may create families that only celebrate Jewish holidays.  They may grow up and become Buddist monks in Tibet as well – but more than likely, whatever religious tradition they follow – Chinese food on Christmas Eve is a tradition that I think will stand the test of time.

Christmas Day was lovely, in the end.  We came home Christmas eve night and put all three kids to bed, and then Marc crashed soon after.  I made hot cocoa for myself, and sat up wrapping presents.  Then I sat on the couch, and wrote my letter from Santa and ate all the cookies.  We had a bunch of friends come over that afternoon for dinner, and in the end, it was actually a lot nicer than I thought it would be.

Glennys came down on Saturday and has been here for the week.  We’ve had some crappy weather, which on the upside, meant that we were home for a few days, with nothing to do but play board games and hang out together.  The downside was that we realized – again – that living on the hill from hell is such a pain in the winter. We were literally stuck on the hill from Monday night until Wednesday afternoon.  But the kids have been great – they’re all old enough to play really well together, mostly.  We had Monopoly marathons, Uno matches that lasted way longer than I thought they should.

I’m not in the mood this morning.  My hair is a hot mess, I’m out of good shampoo, my house is still a mess, and I need to write the thank you/Merry Christmas notes for all the teachers.  And haul my kids out of bed, get them dressed, fed, lunch packed, and then out the door.  In time to rush to work, and try desperately to catch up.

In a time-honored tradition, I will, instead of complaining about the Best Plus stuff I don’t want to do, and the lunches I’m sick of packing, I will make a brief list of why I have no real business bitching about the little stuff.  I’ve got way too many wonderful things to be profoundly grateful for, and that’s what I should be focusing on…

1.  This holiday season has been probably the least angst-ridden that I’ve had in thirteen years.  Even if it’s just because I don’t have time for it (between working and Sam’s health issues, I’ve been trying to just keep my head above water).  Maybe it’s that I’ve finally learned to just chill – the holidays are what they are.  We celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah, and it’s never going to be an easy mix.   But it’s not impossible either – and the alternative isn’t anything I want to think about.

2.  My Sammy is feeling so much better.  The new medication has made such a huge difference for him – it’s simply a non-issue now.  He doesn’t complain, he doesn’t go to the nurse, he’s not in pain.  Everything we went thru, the tears, the fights with the school, the fights at home to get him to go to school, the phone calls with the nurse, the tears, oh, the tears – he’s better now.  I’m so grateful for my healthy, happy, thriving boy.

3.  My job is still a dream come true for me.  Yes, it’s busy and hectic and I’m a little bit underwater right now, but I know that I can get it all done.  And working in the library, with dream hours – this couldn’t be any better for me.  Serendipity is when something fabulous drops in your lap and that’s what this was – this job wasn’t anything I was even looking for before I found it, and it’s still perfect for me.

4.  My Julianna Ruth is so big and still so little at the same time.  I know, I know, she’s five and a kindergarten-going girl, but she’s still my baby and loves nothing more than curling up next to me and reading or writing.  She’s a writer and a dreamer and an artist in the most adorable of ways, and she’s thriving in school.  She’s like a little sponge, just soaking up all the new words and new letters and new ideas, and watching this process is so beautiful.  Probably a little more than it was with the other kids, because she’s SO into it – she LOVES writing.

5.  Marc and I both have cars that work, jobs we love, we’re both healthy and financially, we’re stable in a way that just wasn’t possible when I was a SAHM.   It’s still busy and crazy and chaotic and hectic all the time – but it’s also easier in ways that it wasn’t before.  I can afford to splurge on a book for Julie when we’re grocery shopping or to stop and get the kids a frozen yogurt when it’s been a hard day.

6.  My husband is scary smart – and I don’t think he’s ever had a job where that wasn’t a hindrance.  Until this one – and that’s beautiful to watch.  He loves it – and I love that he’s happy and fulfilled and focused and achieving his goals.  This is a really lovely time for us, and I don’t always pay attention to that.

7.  My Jessica Mary is so exquisite – a twelve year old girl is right on the cusp of womanhood, and it’s beautiful.  She’s bright and stunningly gorgeous, but more importantly, she’s got a flexible, curious and open mind, and is eager to learn everything she can.  About everything.  All the drama and emotional intensity is there, but tempered by a little more self control, a little more poise.  Adolescence is so much more fun, somehow, than I thought it would be.

I’m not wishing away this holiday season – dare I say, it might be the easiest one I’ve ever had as a mom?  It’s obviously a reflection of the lack of time; between Sam’s health issues, and the fact that I’m working, there just isn’t time for me to worry about how Marc is thinking about Christmas and what impact that’ll have on the kids.  Which is probably healthier overall for everyone.  It’s still Christmas, I still am aware of the issues, I just don’t have the space to think about them like I have in years past.  It helps that I eliminated any possibility of Christmas Day tension by moving my family celebration to Christmas Eve and planning on a happy, quiet, easy Christmas Day at home.  I got all the shopping done five days ahead of Christmas, which is so rare.

Sam’s doing so much better, in terms of his health.  He hasn’t mentioned his stomach in weeks.  It’s just a non-issue anymore.   Work is ridiculously busy, in part because when Sam was sick, I missed three days, hard core, and probably another few days when I was nowhere near as productive as I should have been.  So I’m frantic there, and at home, I’m drowning in laundry and dishes and cleaning and trying to carve out time to spend with all three of the kids.

We’re about a week post-colonoscopy, and he’s exceeded all of my expectations.  It’s not perfect, he’s complained a few times, but it feels like he’s coming out of a fog.

Suddenly, he’s sitting out in the living room.  Interacting with people.  Building legos and playing Uno with his dad.  Talking with me and Jessie.  He helped make pizza last night, watched a movie with Jessie and did most of his homework independently in his room while he was listening to an audiobook.

After talking to his doctor, we’ve decided to keep him on the sucralfate for another week – mainly because I’m slightly afraid to stop giving it to him.  It works – and I love having my boy not in pain.  So we’ll do another week on that, and he’ll start the omeprezole the Monday after Christmas.

In other news – my girls are both demanding all the attention that they missed over the past month or so.  Jessie’s math grade is a hot mess, and Julianna is starting to ramp up some serious sensory issues.   She’ll only wear certain clothes.  They have to be very soft, they have to fit her arms perfectly – not too tight, not too loose.  They have to fall at a precise spot on her wrist, and woe to person (me) who suggests that perhaps it might not be such a big deal.  Every morning, we battle over what she’ll wear, and it’s every single item of clothing.  Once I get her to agree to pants, the shirt is definitely going to be a brawl.  And the coat, God help me with the coat.   That poor kid with her coat.  She has three of them (one brand new this year that I bought just because she seemed to hate the other two so much) and putting them on is HARD.

I’m trying to be patient.  I am.  Also trying to remember that she’s not yet six, and there’s so little in her life that she can control.

The bonus is that this year, I don’t have the time for my existential holiday crisis.  Between a sick Sammy, work, and the girls – I just don’t have the mental space for  it.  Hanukkah was a non-event, essentially.  We spent the bulk of it overwhelmed with Sam’s health issues, and while we managed to hit the highlights, like dinner out and looking for Christmas lights, we had our Hanukkah parties – but I was delighted when it was over and I got a little breathing room before Christmas.  We’re not really ready for that either, but I think it’ll be a better day, just because he’ll be healthy – and it comes at the beginning of a whole week of nothing.  I’m still working, but the office is closed so my hours are more flexible.  Marc will be home a bit more, and I can relax a bit.  Get ready for the new year.

It’s been a rough week.  A really, really hard week.

Sam’s stomach has been getting worse and worse.  He came home from school last Wednesday and last Friday, and then on Monday, I got a call from the nurse.  Again.  He was in the office, crying.  His stomach hurt so badly.  I got him to go back to class for a while, but it didn’t last.  It just hurt, and he couldn’t stop crying.  So we picked him up and brought him home.  We brought him into the pedi GI doctor and he pushed up the scheduled endoscopy/colonoscopy to Wednesday.

If you’ve ever tried to not feed a kid for a day, then you might understand what Tuesday was like.  Of all three of my kids, the one who eats, consistently, all the time, is my Sammy.  Jessie skips meals more often than not, and Julie fasted on Yom Kippur simply by never asking for food.  But Sam – Sam always eats.  He eats breakfast, lunch, dinner, is a big fan of snacks.  The food helps with the pain.  Combining no food (which added hunger pains on top of the existing pain) with not being able to eat to help with the already onmipresent pain, and then tacking on getting him to drink 32 oz of miralax (every sip made him cry harder) – it was hellish.  We’d cycle thru from complaining to crying to begging me to help him to finally accepting comfort and then I’d distract him with something – we did that five or six times.  I called my mom and had her come out and take the girls out for dinner – because I couldn’t feed them.  I couldn’t feed myself – I couldn’t even pee.  Sam was a hot mess, all day long.

The procedure was actually the easiest part of it.  Sam was so brave, and even though he was scared, he was polite and respectful to all the doctors and nurses (and there were thousands crammed into the little room with us).  He did great, woke up easily enough after the anesthesia.  There were three different options we could have ended up with – they could have found terrible, terrible things in there, but they didn’t.  They could have found absolutely nothing wrong, and told us that he was making the whole thing up, but they didn’t do that either.  Instead, what they found was mostly an incredibly healthy boy – but evidence of inflammation in one specific section of his stomach.  We can treat it with medicine, and we’re optimistic that this will fix the problem.

As optimistic as we are – I think we’re all feeling a little shell-shocked.  He’s missed the better part of a week at school, and we’re drowning in make up work.  He was groggy and tired this morning, and I couldn’t force myself to make him wake up and go.   We took the whole day and just stayed home.  He listened to books on tape, worked on math homework and played too many video games.  I did laundry and dishes, and cleaned.  I gave the kids a bath, made a lovely dinner.

It’s been a long week, and I’m happy it’s over.  Hanukkah has gotten entirely lost in the shuffle of this week, and I can’t muster up the energy to really do much about that.