Melissa Anne Cohen

I’ve got a cold, but thus far, it’s kind of a fun cold.  I like sneezing.  Not all the time, but it’s a lot more fun than hiccups.  Plus I’m also under the influence of benedryl and advil, so that’s helping as well.  All is delightful here today.  Both the older kids bopped off the school happily enough, and Julianna is zoning out in front of Little Einsteins.  It’s her all time absolute favorite.  She calls it “Pat, pat” and will insist that any or all of us that are currently home come and sit with her and pat in unison to get the rocket off the ground.  I think she originally liked it because it was the first show she could ask for by name.  But it’s quickly become the backdrop to my days… she  rarely watches anything else.  God bless the DVR. 

In other news – she’s got more and more words at her disposal now.  I’ve lost count, but she’s more and more articulate.  Usually just one syllable words, but she’s  got some two syllables in there.  She’s even saying some sentences “Need help” and “Baby stuck,”  “Baby Night Night” is one of her favorites.  This is a girl who loves her some baby dolls.  That, and her play kitchen are her favorite. 

She’s down to just nursing  a couple of times a day, usually just after she gets up and again in the late afternoon, and of course, she still nurses to sleep for nap and bed.  And usually once or twice at night.  Which doesn’t look like she’s cut back at all, nursing wise, but it feels like she has.  Because she’ll easily go without it, it’s more for comfort when she’s tired or upset.  She still feels very much like a baby to me, and I’m not ready for her to be all the way grown up yet.  I don’t mind the nursing yet.   I was so ready for it to be done with Sam, but Julianna is still tiny.  Sam was closer to two and a half before I started to feel like it was done, and Jules is still a ways away from that.

My kids are awesome at playing alone.  Julianna just spent easily a half hour collecting babies and blankets from around the house, and laying them all down for bed in Sam’s room.  Why Sam’s room?  I don’t know… but she was so BUSY and so cute.  She was going back and forth between the living room and  the bedrooms, humming to herself the whole time, and I was sitting on the couch reading and thinking to myself how great it was that she could keep herself occupied and enjoy it so much.   Then she came in and announced “Baby Night Night.”  She was so proud and thrilled with herself – I asked if I could see, and she led me into the bedroom.  She really did it – she found four or five little blankets, laid them all down and placed a baby doll on each one. 

I’m delighted with her today…

I have a January birthday (it’s the 25th), in case you want to send a card… and have always made birthday resolutions instead of New Year’s (on the theory that it’s always better to not go along with the crowd).  So here are my parenting birthday resolutions for my thirty eighth year (in no particular order…)

1.  Chores.  I always SAY I’m going to give the kids chores, and have even made a half hearted stab at doing it once or twice.  But then I don’t enforce it, it’s just easier and quicker to unload the dishwasher myself, or to put away the laundry while they’re at school.  However, that’s really a lose/lose situation – the kids don’t actually learn how to take care of themselves, and I end up saddling myself with all household chores.  So this year, I’m going to assign age appropriate chores and stick to it.

2.  Playdates.  I’m crap at arranging playdates.   But Worcester isn’t like Maynard.  We didn’t need playdates when I was little, because the kids I went to school with were the same kids I went to CCD with and the same kids I went to Brownie’s with.  But Worcester… the kids Jess sees at school are completely different from all of her other activities.  And there really aren’t any other kids in the neighborhood here, so a playdate a month for each kid is my goal.

3.  Stop apologizing for the state of my house.  My house is cluttered and that’s just the way it is.   I’m always going to have army guys scattered under the table, crayons wily nily all over the place and sixty seven thousand books everywhere.   I’ve spent years feeling bad because it’s a mess, all the time, and assuming that people are judging me.   And they’re not, my friends love me, love coming here and their kids love it.  It’s my own hang up and I need to stop feeling bad about it.

4.  Time alone with Marc.  For too many years, our idea of a date has been time with just our youngest child.  I love this guy, he’s my partner in all things.  He’s brilliant and kind and I’m incredibly blessed in my marriage.   We deserve time alone, and this year, I’m vowing to making alone time  with my husband a priority.

5.  Blog more.  I love to write, and having others read my stuff fulfills a need that I haven’t really addressed in years.  But more than just having others read my blog, I blog for the kids.  This is their baby book, my record of their childhood.  I love being able to go back and read entries from years ago, to see how far they’ve come and how much they remain the same.   Plus it allows me to remember all those little sweet details (and the not so sweet ones) that I’d forget without this record.

6.  Take more pictures.  Because they’re freaking cute – and growing so fast every day.  I already regret not taking more pictures when they were littler. 

7.  Do more.  Weekends tend to get lost in errands and just puttering around the house.  And sometimes that’s great, like today, we’ve got Lilli, Sarah, Glennys and Caroline over and the kids are busy, busy, busy.  But we need to do more stuff, go to museums, and the ocean and up to North Conway – visiting relatives we never make time to see.   I don’t want their childhood memories to be just Walmart and the New England Patriots games.

8.  Shabbat.  It’s the  first thing that I loved about Judasim, and always, the easiest thing to let slide.  Having one day when we eat a special meal, lighting candles and blessing the children, spending the whole day together, not watching television or zoning out in  front of the computer.  We need that.  And the only way to have it happen is for us to MAKE it happen.  WE have to make it a priority, or it won’t be.   

We co-sleep. Julianna Ruth has slept next to me every night of her life, and I’ve got no plans on trying to transition her into her own bed anytime soon. Sam and Jessie have lovely, lovely bedrooms, decorated, filled with toys, big inviting beds, with stuffed animals, special blankets and pillows on them. And really, given the option, they’d always rather sleep in bed with us.

It’s not an every night thing – mostly, they do sleep in their own beds.  While we were waiting for this new apartment to be ready,  we were staying with friends all last month, all in one bedroom. Breaking the habit is proving harder than I anticipated it would be. We all got used to kind of sleeping on top of one another. Staying all by themselves, in their own individual rooms, is hard now.

The other night, I had to gently push Jessie to sleep in her own bed. She had been sleeping in mine since we moved in, and I was beginning to think that she was just not ever going to sleep in her own bed again. At first she didn’t like her new room, so we went a little overboard on making it lovely.  Got her a new bed, new posters, rearranged it twice, and finally she reached the point where she was delighted by the bedroom.  We ended up finding a loft bed in one of Marc’s  aunt’s basements, and put that in there, with Julianna’s bed perpendicular underneath it.  Her room is so pretty now, and uniquely her, but she still doesn’t like sleeping in it.

The other night, I told her that while she was always welcome to sleep in our bed, I didn’t want her to not be able  to sleep in her own.  It was important that it be an  option – not the default.  She trudged off to her room, with this air of resignation and sadness, and I felt so guilty. As hard as it was for her to sleep in her own bed, by herself, it was much harder for me to make her do it.

And it occurred to me that this separation, this growing up, while totally necessary, it so hard. She has to grow up, she has to know that she’s perfectly okay sleeping without me, safe without me. It’s a lesson she’s been learning, and I’ve been learning, from the very beginning. And we do it over and over again. From the first time the nurse wheels your baby to the nursery on that first day, to the first steps toddling away, first sleepover, first day of school, etc… and it just never gets easier. I love that she’s growing up, I love the girl she is and the glimmers of the woman she’ll be. But I still miss my baby. I miss that connection, that all encompassing devotion and adoration on both our parts. Our relationship is bigger now. She gets mad at me, I get irritated with her. She’s got relationships that I’m not a part of – and that’s exactly as it should be.

But that doesn’t make it easier. I missed her terribly the other night, and after a few minutes, I peeked in to check on her. If she was still awake, I’d tell her she could come and sleep in our bed. But she was sound asleep, in her perfect pretty bedroom, clutching her teddy bear. I tiptoed back to bed, feeling both vindicated and sad. Because I was right when I told her that she needed to be able to sleep in her own room, and that she’d be fine, and a part of me, a small but still vocal part, wished I was wrong. I think I’ve always been like that – knowing that she has to grow up, gently urging and pushing her to do it when she’s ready, and feeling wistful and slightly sad knowing that she’s growing up all the time. One day, it’ll be completely foreign for her to snuggle up with her mama to go to sleep, one day, probably soon as adolescence is just starting to rear it’s little head, she’ll go to sleep, vowing that she hates me and can’t wait until she’s out of my house. She’ll be an adult soon enough, and I won’t always be able to whisper lullabies to help her sleep. And I know I’ll look back on this night, and wish I hadn’t pushed her to grow up, wish that I could go back and let her little eight year old self snuggle up next to me and drift off…

I’ve been without a computer for days, weeks, and thanks to Mike Wilder (a man I will be forever grateful to), I’ve got a loaner laptop until we can find a cheap computer to replace the one that died.  And honestly, after the two months that we had been thru, it’s amazing  that the computer is the only actual fatality. 

We’re in our new apartment now, and it’s delightful.   Lovely neighborhood, less than three miles from the girls, first floor of a duplex.  Three bedrooms, lots of light, GORGEOUS bathroom with a washer and dryer, living room, dining room that’s big enough for a ten person dining table and a little play area for Julianna, and a kitchen that boasts of a microwave and a dishwasher.   I don’t know that I want to live here forever, but for the next year or two, it’ll be perfect.  Long  term, I still want a house, with a dog and two cats and a ton of space, but for now… I’m content. 

Marc’s working away at his new job, and thus far, it seems to be working out really well.   His job has the added bonus of a company car, which makes my life a thousand times easier.  I’m very much an in the car, on the go, driving around kind of mom these days.  And adding in dropping him off and picking him up (especially picking up – right in the middle of dinner/homework) was tough.  But  now… life is back to smooth sailing.  Financial worries are minor, relatively – compared to how bad it was for a few months there, and now, I feel like my life is back to normal. 

And I’m unbelievably grateful for it.

1 – She consistently self identifies as the “middle child,” despite the fact that in reality, 90% of her time is spent as the oldest of three.

2 – She dotes on her baby sister, but seems firmly convinced that her little brother is out to get her.

3 – She really likes reading, but it’s not the love of reading that I hoped she’d inherit from me.  She’ll read and enjoy it, but it’s not her favorite activity.

4 – She’s very poised and confident with other adults.  Probably comes from being the oldest (despite what she thinks – she IS my oldest).  I can send her into the dry cleaners or the store to grab something without hesitation.

5 – She’s got major drama tendencies, and with very little provocation, can sink into an all encompassing sobbing fit.  It’s not depression, it’s like an overwhelming embrace of whatever feeling she happens to have.

6 – She’s incredibly thoughtful.  By that, I don’t mean that she’s incredibly considerate, although she certainly can be.  But she THINKS about stuff, very much an in her head kind of kid.  She’s got a lot of questions and theories on how the world works that I find fascinating.

7 – She still sleeps with her teddy and special blankie.  And honestly, she’s almost always rather sleep in my bed than not.

8 – She’s majorly afraid of heights.  Being picked up over Marc’s head freaks her out.  A lot.

9 – She’s really, really good at math.  Doesn’t like it – but is really good at it.

10 – She’s achingly polite.  If offered something, she’ll more than often, politely refuse, rather than have someone put the effort into getting it for her.  Especially if we’re at someone’s house and they offer her something to eat or drink.

11 – She’s got a definite style, a specific way of dressing that amuses me.  Because it’s so different from me – I wear whatever I can find and hope it’s clean, but she’s very distinct in her likes and dislikes.  Won’t wear jeans, hates sneakers, but will don a scarf and pair of oversized sunglasses and look like a movie star.

12 – She will resist taking a shower or a bath, but once in there, will often refuse to get out until she’s totally out of hot water.

13 – She really, really likes cosmetics, perfume, etc.  She carries a little purse filled with nail polish and lip gloss and sunglasses and is never happier than when she’s in front of a mirror, beautifying herself.

14 – She’s terrified of loose teeth.  Marc forcibly removed a loose tooth (actually two) when she was five, and she’s freaked out now about anyone touching her teeth when they’re loose.

15 – She’s amazingly sensitive, achingly sweet, and incredibly stubborn at times.  She’s my angel girl, my first little baby, and I’m always, always stunned and grateful that I got lucky enough to have a daughter like her.

We were technically homeless.  We weren’t living on the street, thank goodness, and have a strong safety net of friends and family who were all very helpful and loving and thank goodness for wonderful friends who housed us and made us feel welcome and loved.  But the facts are that, for a month, my husband, my three small children and I, were homeless.  That terrified me.  Still terrifies me.  Because even though we’re moving into our new place next week (YAY!), it was so easy to reach the point where holy moly, we have nowhere to go and oh my God, we’re actually homeless.

I didn’t use the word around my kids, but I couldn’t help shouting it to myself all the time.  It wasn’t our fault, really.  We had trusted the wrong people, entered into a lease that wasn’t enforced with a landlord who had a whole bunch of issues, plus we were just coming off of fourteen months of unemployment.   It was a combination of events that led to a perfect storm of me and my family homeless.

I’m still a little shell shocked, honestly.  I know it was a momentary blip, I know that Marc’s got a great new job and is doing well.  I know that the kids rode it out surprisingly well, they’re amazingly resilient, and of course, it helped that we were staying with such great friends who made us feel so welcome.  And it was less than a month, after all.  Our new place is lovely, really.  I already adore it and I’m not even moved in yet.

Things still feel a little fragile and scary.  I imagine that they will for a while, for me.  I hope not for the kids.  I wonder how they really felt, in their own heads, about it.   They seemed okay, mostly.  Jessie could talk about it, which helped to mitigate some of her fears and frustrations.  Sam had some other issues that manifested itself, but for the most part, he seemed to sail thru it without too many problems (it definitely helped that we were staying with his best friend).  Julianna was a little off, but adjusted quickly.  I worried the least about her, she’s still at an age where her security is still really based on my availability.  As long as she could snuggle up next to me, she was fine.

I’m feeling more like me these days.  The past month, two months, really, have been exceptionally difficult.  I was depressed and miserable and trying so hard not to be.  But I feel lighter, more cheerful and optimistic.   Signing an eighteen month lease will do that to a girl.

I have a hard time articulating my spiritual beliefs.  Actually, I don’t know that it’s a hard time articulating it, more it’s a hard time understanding them.   I’m Jewish – of that, I’m certain.  I believe in a divine presence, and I believe that it’s benevolent.  I believe in free will.  I also believe in destiny, and somehow manage to blend the two into a oddly reassuring theory that I chose my life before I was born.  That it was almost like writing a story that has to contain some things – but I was able to choose the awful things that happen knowing that it would balance out in the end.  That with some perspective, I would be able to know that this was exactly what needed to happen to get that.  This and that being variables that change depending on circumstances.  For example – Marc and I miscarried twins very early on in our relationship.  And as devastating as that was – and it was truly the worst thing that had ever happened to me, and there were days when I didn’t ever think I’d be able to smile again – I can look back now and say that, without that, I don’t know that things would be what they are today.  Without that trial by fire, without that early loss to bind us together – I might well have messed up the relationship with Marc.  We were looking for different things at that point, and I think that I might have been too scared and he might have not wanted that level of commitment so soon after the divorce – but when we lost our twins, it brought us so much closer together.  So I have Marc, and Lilli and Sarah, and Jessica and Sam and Julianna and this whole life together – and I’m not certain if that would have happened without my twins.   Ten years ago, I was not so sure.  I was devastated and lost and terrified – because I WANTED those babies so badly, and I had prayed so hard for them, and when they died, I didn’t just lose my babies, I lost my faith.  I’ve gotten it back mostly – or thought that I had, but find myself feeling a lot of those emotions these days.

So I try to find some perspective here.  Because January will be great, and we’ve got a good chance at getting a lovely place to live, and if I can get thru the next three weeks or so, I think we’ll be okay.  But I’m struggling financially in a way that nobody likes to be struggling in December – and I’m bitter and angry about it.  And when people say to me (as they do ALL the time) – “You’ll get thru this – you just have to see it happening.”  I want to scream in frustration.  Because positive thinking can make it easier, but doesn’t make the bad stuff go away.  And being positive is no guarantee against the really, really hard stuff.  Like being homeless, and worrying about where the Hanukkah gifts are coming from – I don’t KNOW that this will be fine.  I knew that we’d be okay before our landlord summarily moved his stuff back in when we had nowhere to go.  I knew for sure that we’d be in our own place and we’d be fine.  And we’re not.  I’m angry and enraged when people assure me that positive thinking is what I need most to make this better.

We are so lucky – I know that.  And my kids are doing great – because we have wonderful friends who are happy to have us around and family who loves us and we’ll be okay.  Of that, I’m pretty sure.  But I can’t blithely assume that just because I want it all to work out, it will.  That puts too much pressure on my ability to think my way to success.  I believe things will be okay – because Marc has a good job, because we’ve built a stable life together and we’ll get back to that place soon.  But I know now that there are no guarantees, and that simply wanting something to work out perfectly doesn’t make it so.  I just wish I didn’t have to learn this lesson every ten years or so…

But I’m realizing that I blog when I’m happy – and when I’m really struggling emotionally, I’m not much in the mood to write about it.

So after having our feet kicked out from underneath us, and being basically evicted on three weeks notice, we were unable to find an apartment quickly enough.  We met with a couple of landlords, and there was one or two that would have rented to us, but they weren’t in great neighborhoods and the places we liked were reluctant to rent to us because Marc was still unemployed.  So we ended up putting our stuff into storage, and are staying with our friends Sara and Arlen.

The good news (no, great news – because this really is great news, it’s just that things seem so hard right now it’s hard to focus on it), is that Marc started a fabulous new job on Monday, and apparently has an uber high credit score, so we can probably qualify for a no money down home loan and buy.  We don’t have any debt and have been living exceptionally frugally, and paying our bills on time pays off 🙂  But after talking to the loan officer, it looks like if we wait another six months, and then apply for a loan, we’d be in a much better position to qualify.  So she recommended a tenant at will place for six months and then go for a house.

So that’s our plan.  And it’s a good one, and I’m really trying to stay optimistic about it – but right now, I hate the fact that we aren’t in our own place.  This is really, really hard for me.  Thank goodness for wonderful friends like Sara and Arlen, and my lovely new realtor, Annamarie, because she’s talked me down off the ledge several times so far.

The kids are adjusting beautifully.  Sam is doing great – really.  I mean, I’d say, of the three of them, he’s really doing the best so far.  Jordyn is one of his best friends anyway – and this way, he’s in a familiar setting, gets to sleep right next to me every night, and so far, I don’t see any problems with him.  Jessie is having a harder time – because there’s no alone time for her, and no space for her to arrange her stuff.  Jessie loves her stuff, and arranging her journal and stuffed animals is challenging because there’s not a lot of space here.  Julianna is doing… okay.  She’s adjusting fine to being here, it’s missing her daddy that’s hard for her.  She’s so not used to having him gone, and I feel so bad for her sometimes.  She talks about “Yaya” all day long, and wakes up at night talking about him.

It’ll be okay – I try to keep telling myself that.  But this has shaken me on a level that’s usually not shakable, if that makes sense.  It’s very, very difficult.  I find myself really hating my former landlord for putting us into this position, and feel very powerless and unable to make it better.  This isn’t a normal feeling for me – I generally try to go with that peace and goodwill towards all philosophy – and I’m angry and bitter.  I’m also enough of a control freak that being in this position is making me nuts.  I just have to wait and see what Annamarie can find for us, and hope for the best.  I know that we’re all healthy, and thank God for that.  I’m not blind to the fact that this could be SO much worse.  We had our choice of people to go stay with – we are blessed with wonderful friends and family, and everyone is so kind and generous – but I’m the one that people stay with – not the one who goes to stay with others.

But we are all healthy and the kids are adjusting as well as they can.  And Marc has a wonderful new job and the van is still running great.  We’re on the cusp of great and wonderful things – but I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I’ll be to be in my own place again.

We’re moving into a friend’s house for a month – because the apartment we want isn’t ready yet.  It’s insanely frustrating, because we’re putting stuff into storage and it’s just messy and yucky and I hate every last little bit of it.