Four of my children each experienced something new and
significant over the past two weeks. As parents, it’s not easy to make sure
overlapping events each get the proper attention they deserve and that no one
child’s life takes over the entire family system. So we don’t. We divvy up our
time and focus as best we can, but the division is not always equal, the
demands of oldest and youngest children seeming to grab the lion’s share of the
family space. At least this is what happened in my house recently.
Below are four major events in the lives of four of my
children. They appear in descending order of impact on the family as a unit,
that is, from the event that turned the whole house upside down to one that
affected no one but the patient herself.
Milestone 1: My
oldest took her first SAT 2.
This exam claimed first place by a landslide. I’m still
trying to learn the lingo of today’s college prep generation. In my day we
called them Achievements. That’s probably not PC anymore—we need to be
sensitive to those children who might not be able to achieve. I also learned
that these tests don’t really count the way they did when I took them. Today
you can just show colleges the ones that you want to send, and most colleges
don’t even require them at all. Sounds a
little bit like a Facebook profile—only show your best stuff—but then again,
I’m told college is harder than ever to get into today, so these leniencies
must not be all they’re cracked up to be. In any case, as parents, we’re new to
all this. We are still trying to distinguish SAT from ACT.
But she’s our firstborn, and we’re both firstborns so of
course we had to take it seriously. Proper
tutoring. Mock test preparations. Rush scoring for the results. The week before
the exam all siblings were instructed to treat the apartment like a library,
whispering so as not to disturb Gabby’s studying. The night before the test,
Gabby felt she needed her own room for the night, insisting that her other
sisters triple up. “Obviously I’m not letting anyone sleep with me,” is how she
put it. It was very nice she allowed them to sleep in the room next door and
not down the hall. And even nicer that the twins were permitted to remain at
home for the night. Then, she had to be at school to take the test at 7:45 am.
She asked if it would be too much for us to wake up with her at 6, and give her
a nice breakfast and keep her company while she reviews a few last minute
charts and bullet points. Actually I think she said, “you’ll wake me and give
me breakfast right?” And of course we did. In retrospect this was a rookie
mistake. How will we do this for five more children? Answer: we won’t.
The night before the exam she actually had a bit of trouble
printing out her admission ticket. We were out for dinner. I had to excuse
myself to go home—and by go, I mean sprint since Gabby texted me to hurry since
she wanted to be in bed by 11—and help her print it out. I was convinced there
was a serious glitch in the college board electronic system, since never has
Gabby or any of my children needed the help of someone from my generation to
figure out something on the computer. She has never needed any assistance
shopping online, discovering new apps, setting up a Spotify account. But this
admission ticket really threw her. My dinner was over. We printed it out
together and I tucked her in. “Oh can you set your alarm for 6,” she asked,
“come wake me and let me snooze a little? I’d rather not set my alarm.”
“Sure Gabby.”
Milestone 2: Our
youngest lost her first tooth.
This was a big deal. I mean, not as big a deal as a Bio SAT
2, but this was biology in real life, the first tooth to come out for our not even
five-year-old twin. Her twin brother didn’t take it well. I’m starting to see
these rites of passage will be tough with twins. He started crying his teeth
are never going to come out as she stood there, with tooth in hand and a wide
smile across her face, asking him if he wants to “watch” her put it under her
pillow. Like a little puppy he went to watch. Then ensued a whole tooth fairy
discussion. When their older sister, Lily, lost a tooth a few weeks ago, Eliana
and Barry were petrified of the tooth fairy. “What if it’s a mean fairy?” What
if the fairy kidnaps us?” “What if the fairy tries to kill us?” I tried as best
as I could to explain the tooth fairy is a good fairy, succeeding to reassure
Barry but unable to convince Eliana. She refused to go to sleep, convinced the
tooth fairy was going to come into her room and take her away. In a moment of
desperation to get her to go to sleep, I said, “ok there is no tooth fairy. I
am the tooth fairy. I go into your room and take your tooth and put money under
your pillow.” I know, pathetic of me, but we all know the desperation of
wanting to get your kids out of your face and into their beds. Truth is I never
had a child who was scared of the tooth fairy. The others caught on pretty
quickly, although Lily actually believed until quite recently that the tooth
fairy was her school librarian.
So now Eliana loses her tooth and when I tell her to put it
under her pillow for the tooth fairy—she looks at me with the derogatory glance
of a teenager disguised in a four year old’s body, “Mom, there is no tooth
fairy, I know it’s you.”
“No, I told her. That was what I told you when Lily lost her
tooth since you were scared. I was kidding. There really is a tooth fairy.”
Now that she knew the tooth fairy was actually bringing her
money, she was more amenable to giving it a go, though the questions ensued—does
the tooth fairy take the elevator? Will she fly through the window? Should they
leave their window open? With sweaty palms, Barry quivered with worry that the tooth
fairy would close the door on her way out, leaving him in total darkness which
he fears. We told him we’d be sure to tell her to leave it open. In any case,
they went to sleep. We used to give silver dollars to our kids for each tooth.
Then we realized that amount doesn’t really fly on the Upper East Side. Teeth
go for a lot. I overheard one mother in the school elevator saying she gives
$20/tooth. But this is our youngest kid, and she doesn’t know money just yet.
Rob wanted to actually put some leftover Israeli shekels under her pillow, or
some Zlotys I had from a Poland trip a few years ago. Luckily, we found a $2
bill, which Eliana delightedly discovered in the morning and waved across her
brother’s face. Meanwhile he is working
hard to loosen his own teeth by eating large quantities of very crunchy, solid
food.
Milestone 3: Barry learned how to stand up without using
his hands.
Yes, a very big deal and his five mothers—I mean sisters—all
applauded as if instead of conquering OT 101, he’d returned from climbing
Everest. He felt like a champ.
Milestone 4: Lily chopped off her hair and had a
tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy
Last and I guess least, our fourth daughter Lily had a
momentous two weeks. First, she donated 8 inches of her hair, transforming her
look completely. Inspired by a bar mitzvah boy’s project to collect 613 inches
of hair to donate, Lily and many other students in her school went to the David
Groshen Salon where David provided free haircuts and styling for this great
cause. Her other sisters commented that with shorter hair Lily looked cuter and
was less annoying. Lily took it all in stride, having very little time to fend
off their comments. The following day she had a full tonsillectomy and
adenoidectomy. General anesthesia. Tons of pain. Knocked out on painkillers.
Could barely eat or drink for days. As we were discharged from the hospital the
nurse said to Lily—
“Do you have any brothers and sisters?” Lily nodded yes.
“How many?” She asked. Voiceless Lily held up one hand.
“Five?” The nurse said aghast. ‘Well, make sure none of them
asks you to do them any favors this weekend. It’s your turn to rest. Let
everyone take care of you for a change.”
Lily just smiled politely.
Did she get her own room? Nope. Was the house kept quiet so she
could rest? Nope. What’s worse, Gabby drank all the fruit punch boxes I had
bought especially for Lily. Caroline finished her chocolate puddings. Barry polished
off her yogurt smoothies. But Lily didn’t say a word—then again she couldn’t
speak. She pointed to the Oxycodone or Tylenol when she needed it, but other
than that, she refilled her own Gatorade, ran her own baths, played with the
twins, and made sure to tell me that if anyone calls I should explain that she
feels badly but she can’t speak yet on the phone. Thank God she was finally
feeling better the night before the SAT 2 so she could sleep on the floor and
give Gabby her private beauty sleep.
It’s not easy being in the middle, that’s for sure.
