First Snow!

December lost

I can't believe that I've let nearly all of December slip by without a post. Certainly there has been much to write about, but perhaps I've shied away because what's been going on is rather treacherous ground and not really my own to discuss. Uta's Grandma moved in with us. And before we could truly absorb all the changes her arrival brought, she was gone again. When she first came, Uta was ecstatic. Finally we can have even volleyball teams, he said. (This is not as random as it sounds. We have been known to hang a rope across our apartment and play a few rounds of volleyball with a balloon.) During her first few days in the city Uta dragged his grandma around introducing her to all his friends, teachers, and familiar neighborhood faces. His introduction went something like this, "This is my Grandma, she's going to live with us forever." Forever was a very real possibility, but it turned out to be a mere two weeks, a sort of marriage sabbatical. Hopefully her stay with us was the good medicine her marriage needed. We want what's best for her of course, though Uta might argue that what's best for her is to be with him, and he is certainly mourning his loss. (But don't worry, he's ok really, he just needs to gripe about it now and again.) Lets hope Grandma's New Year is full of new beginnings and lasting change.

Everyday is a good day (with legos)

Happy hour for Uta is constructing robots out of legos. It is his way of decompressing after school. I'm not sure how this happy go lucky idea of childhood got started but it certainly isn't the whole story. Being six has its stresses, maybe not about money, but stresses none the less (think schoolyard bullies and tattletales, Uta's school is ripe with them.) The difference is kids are not so attached to feeling crappy, build a robot, feel better, bad day done.

How to Swing

Uta says...

"Jen is funny and silly and active. She has a lot of energy and knows how to have fun with a nephew. She can make really good turkey sounds too. I love her because she is my Aunt. I love her more than ice cream."



Happy Birthday Auntie Jen! Sorry we missed your party. We love you.

Family

Never, in my memory, has it been possible for my whole family to enjoy the simple gesture of gathering around a table to share a meal. My family is full of fractures and divides that seem to only deepen and harden with the passing of time. I have always envied big families that enjoy each other's company, but for us it isn't so straightforward. Our definition of family has had to stretch and expand to embrace the broken bits, the silences, and in ways we are all stronger for it, wiser perhaps. But holidays are hurdles for a family like mine, and in the past I have begrudged them, dressing the part but feeling it to be a farce.

And then comes Uta. And along with him a second chance at the family I have always craved. We may not have the numbers, but we have the love, buckets and buckets. So we begin again. And our definition of family shifts, relaxes and softens to mean simply those with whom we share love. And starting from this point the holidays become easy and joyful, a real cause for celebration.

This thanksgiving we were invited to dinner at a friends house. Three families gathered together to enjoy a meal. Everyone contributed something. Uta and I made a cranberry orange cheesecake and an arugula salad topped with roasted pecans and pomegranate seeds. Our host cooked a very impressive spread of delicious things, too numerous to recount. Uta played his heart out with the other kids. He even put on several performances; including the infamous Robot dance, a blue hearts song, and a poetry recital. The adults all laughed to the point of tears. A very happy thanksgiving indeed.

Happy Thanksgiving

Uta is thankful for everyone he knows, the whole universe (including California), toys, and the ninja turkey that he drew at school.

Willa at Sundance

Our dear friend Cory (Willa's Dad) just got his new film into Sundance. We are especially excited because Willa is in it. Check out the trailer to see a sneak peak of her acting debut.

www.stingraysam.com

Left in the dark

Conversations with Uta these days are more like investigations. Out of the blue he'll say something like what he said tonight. 'Adriana told on me today.' And before I can inquire further, even utter a simple 'why', the door on the topic is slammed shut. No matter how I phrase my questions, to everything he replies, 'I don't know'. Immediately I'm desperate to squeeze the whole story out of him. I ask point blank, but he says, I don't know. I shimmy and side step, he answers, I don't know. I sweet talk and plead, threaten and bribe, but to everything he says, I don't know. Without a doubt whatever transpired between Uta and Adriana was next to nothing, but being left in the dark, pondering this inane fragment from his day, in unbearable. I cling to his words like a life line, my last link to this little stranger called my son. And hasn't the 'not knowing' only just begun? If I'm already exhibiting this level of crazy dealing with the secret life of a first grader how will I ever survive being the mother of a teenager?

Too cold!

Uta took about three steps out of bed this morning before turning back and diving deep beneath the covers. Its too cold for school, he said. I was able to tempt him back out with the promise of a cozy blanket and hot tea waiting at his seat. Winter is here. The warmth of bed is suddenly so precious and too fleeting. My hands are always cold and Uta squeals in agony when I help him into his clothes. Bracing for the coming months feels like an impossible feat.

Bad Words

(Uta's latest line of questioning.)

Is 'maniac' a bad word?
What about 'hell'?
What about that word that high school students say on the train?
Can you get arrested for saying it?
Is 'freakoid' a mean thing to say?
Can I say 'stupid' if I'm really really really mad?

Picture Day

Uh oh...

This drawing came home in Uta's school bag yesterday. It is from Uta's new friend Phoebe. The bottom is a little hard to read, it says "I love You. Love, Phoebe". She made it for him after she found out that he accepted her invitation for a play-date.

Uta had three invitations for play-dates this week, all from girls. It seems that there is a shortage of nice boys in Uta's school, well, this is what Phoebe told me. She said Uta is the only boy that isn't crazy. Uta agreed.

Election Day

Yesterday Uta's class visited the fifth grade to cast their vote. The fifth graders had made polling booths and ballots. Only three people in Uta's class voted for McCain, the rest were Obama 'supporters'. Today Uta is home enjoying a Saturday on a Tuesday, as he is fond of saying. He spent election day making spider webs from pipe cleaners (including a resident black widow) and two lego ships. He also made up a batch of Danny Dip to go along with his pretzels. (Danny dip is a childhood recipe courtesy of cousin Dan; equal parts mustard and mayo (preferably Kewpie) to taste.)

Halloween

First Uta wanted to be a bat. Then he changed his mind and wanted to be a lion. Soon after, he wanted to be a lion with tiger stripes and bat wings. But in the end (and the day before) he decided to be a ninja. Luckily we already had swords, souvenirs from our summer visit to the ninja village. But Uta doesn't have a stitch of black clothing. So off to the costume shop we went. It is not a good idea to visit a costume shop in NYC the day before halloween. There was a line two blocks long just to get in, and no ninja costumes left to be had. We had to settle for Darth Vader. At home we discarded the mask and cape, turned the suit inside out, and cut off the feet. I sacrificed my black tights for various ties, gloves and the mask. We added strips of red fabric for a little warrior-style pizazz, and voila! A ninja is born.

Hail to Dorothy!

Short on story ideas the other night at bedtime, I told Uta the story of the Wizard of Oz. He has never seen the movie (or even heard mention of it) so for him it was like uncovering a treasure in his own backyard. Uta has an insatiable hunger for stories. If you laid before him a cupcake and a story and asked him to choose one, he would chose the latter, again and again. But not just any stories, he calls them stories from the mouth, which means not read from a book. Stories from the mouth have limitless possibilities, can always be shaped to include him (his favorite literary character!) and are decidedly never ending. When I try to draw one to a close Uta always says 'next chapter please.' There are times when I feel completely burned out when it comes to thinking up stories, like now, like always, and old childhood tales are the perfect substitute. (Once I just told him everything I could remember about the Jetsons! Desperate times...) His favorite part from my retelling of The Wizard of Oz was the Lollipop Guilds welcome song to Dorothy after she 'landed'. He loved it so much that I went and downloaded the entire soundtrack. He wanted to hear all the munchkin songs first, and then we just let the rest play.

When Judy Garland began to sing Somewhere over the Rainbow Uta blushed. He grew bashful and turned an ear to ear grin towards the floor. What is it? I asked. "Is that Dorothy?" He wondered. Yes, I said. "She sings so beautifully." He was gushing, truly moved. "That is the most beautiful singing I have ever heard. "

This weekend we will watch the real movie. Its time to brave the monkeys...

How to get to Japan

According to Uta....

It takes about eight days by plane to go from New York to Japan. First you must fly past Puerto Rico and then over the Bronx Ocean. Then you will be in Japan. You will know you are in Japan because everyone will be really nice to you.

Play-date

Uta's friend Willa came for a play-date. She brought four stuffed cats with her, two pink and two grey. Uta feigned interest and then pulled Willa to his lego station and invited her to build robots. Willa flat out refused. They finally found common ground in the kitchen, both equally excited over the prospect of baking blueberry muffins. They measured and mixed, cracked eggs and coughed (both fighting the tail end of a cold sweeping through the first grade). They coughed so much they decided they were making Blueberry Cough Muffin. While the muffins baked, Uta and Willa ran about the apartment catching ghosts with a bicycle pump and about eight feet of dryer venting pipe. (By the way, the venting pipe was a gift from Uncle J, quite possibly the best care package ever. Nothing beats opening a box and finding oodles of shiny silver tubing, and other fun goodies. Thanks J, J, and M.)

First Strokes

Dance Fever

Last night our friends got married. Uta was in no mood for a wedding, he wanted to stay home and build legos, but finally he agreed to come because of the likelihood that he could eat cake. When he arrived he claimed a spot in the corner and buried his nose in a magazine. He then conveniently used the magazine to hide behind when people tried to talk to him. At six being antisocial is still sort of endearing and some how, before the music even started, Uta's dance card was full. When the music did start, it was Uta who sought out one of the girls who had promised him a dance and said 'Lets go.' From that point on he was unstoppable. No fewer than ten strangers came up to me and asked some form of the question, 'Where did he get those moves?' I have no idea. Certainly not from me or Papa H, we were the only two wallflowers in the place, quick to confess we lack two essential characteristics to being a success on the dance floor, rhythm and nerve. But you can bet we were sitting on the sidelines proud as punch to see our boy eons ahead of us, dancing up a storm. He danced with the bride. He danced with the groom. He danced with the mother of the bride and the best man. He danced with old ladies and little girls. (Auntie Jen would have been proud!) People actually formed a circle around him while he did the robot. At one point he froze mid move for a good twenty seconds, people stopped and waited, stared, then he busted into another round of robot. His timing was perfect. A serious fan of Weddings and Michael Jackson was born last night. Uta sang 'Beat it' to himself all the way home.

Uta grabbed the camera and danced off with it. Here are a few of the pictures he snapped.

This is perhaps the most valuable feature in our apartment. Its a 'start over' button. Well actually its a tiny piece of paper adhered to the wall with double stick tape that reads 'start over'. It was created on a day when Papa H and Uta were playing balloon volleyball in the living room. Uta lost. He was absolutely inconsolable in his despair. Losing graciously is an art that Uta needs some practice with. The start over button was all we could do to end the tears and play on. Since then it has come in handy often, not just for games lost, but any time Uta gets upset (like when a prized lego creation gets dropped). Pressing it enables Uta to drop the drama, save face, and simply begin again.

Cows, hay and dirt

Grandma S has moved to a farm. There are acres and acres of hay fields and cow pastures (cows included), crumbling and cavernous barns to explore, and heaps of wild cats that scramble and skirt about from one hiding spot to the next. Visits up north are like childhood intensives; my little city mouse gets good and dirty, runs far and free, and sees lots of firsts from nature. This trip's "firsts" included wild turkey spottings, wooly bear finds, and being spat at by a new born kitten just days old.



Uta's favorite spot on the farm is a great big pile of dirt. Simply heaven for a six year old boy.


Thanks for a great visit everyone!

What happened to summer?

I have been completely blindsided by the start of school. One moment we are combing the beaches in Maine for driftwood and sand dollars, the next minute first grade is in full swing. (And I do mean full. With Japanese after-school, swimming lessons, play-dates, and lego club, Uta is lucky if he gets dinner, much less the ten plus hours of sleep required to produce a well rested six year old). Suddenly my mind can think of nothing but lunch box fillers and runny nose remedies. Oh and of course the clock. The clock is no friend to childhood and it is clearly no friend of mine. Being pressed for time seems to transform me from a generally mild-mannered calm person into a sharp tongued, quick to anger, drill sergeant. The return to school for Uta is the return to patience training for me, and our daily commute at the crack of dawn is proving to be an extraordinary teacher. I am continually amazed and happy to report that smiling and kind encouragement gets us where we are going markedly faster than the converse approach. I have tried both.

New Scooter

Uta has a new scooter. I can no longer call him Uta. Now his preferred title is 'secret agent scooter boy'. He has been scootering up and down our apartment all day. Not just anyone can scooter in our apartment. You need a license. Luckily Uta has one.

The Glorious Gift (a follow up for Aunt B)

In a previous post I mentioned that Uta received a 'glorious gift' from Baba and Jiji, but I neglected to say exactly what that gift was. I must confess I have kept somewhat ignorant about the specifics. In my opinion, it is an oversized, very noisy, colorful plastic belt that Uta, for reasons inexplicable to me, gets endless pleasure from. But maybe Uta can do a better job explaining...

(What did Baba and Jiji give you for your birthday?) A 'Kiba' belt. (What's that?) It's a bat that has a belt and little card things that make it change colors and say different things. Actually they are not cards, well maybe they are. But one is a werewolf. (What does it do?) The bat bites and talks. When it bites you it changes you into Kiba. (Who is Kiba?) Kiba is a regular person who makes violins. The bat lives in a violin without strings that rings when there is trouble. Kiba wears the bat on his belt and together they fight bad guys, of course.

Here's a picture of Kiba.

Hey, where's the peacock?

I have come face to face with a very ripe deadline. In exactly fifteen days I have to send a healthy lot of drawings to Istanbul for a show. As of today, there is nothing finished. Commence panic mode. I must confess I love the crunch time of a deadline, so rare is it to have one post school, I tend to savour the madness of it. Uta however...

He let it slip that he hates drawing. What?! He tried to laugh it off, but its true, I have not given birth to someone who likes to draw. Drawing as a means to play he's all for, if it can be cut out, reassembled and transformed into an action figure, he's on board. But just tacked to a wall, lying flat like mine, not his cup of tea. The photos seen here may lead one to believe otherwise. This drawing session lasted about thirty seconds, only long enough to snap these pictures. Oh well.

Uta prefers to observe. When I am drawing he often comes to comment on my progress. Today he was delighted to spot a peacock in one of the drawings. But a couple hours later when he checked again the peacock was gone. He cried. He decided the peacock was just wearing a dress and then went back to his legos.

Tamaki-chan

This is possibly the cutest little girl in all of Japan, and without a doubt the only Japanese speaker I can truly understand, though very likely she would say otherwise. But most of the time our conversations stayed on topics I could follow, and for that I owe her a big thank you. We talked about liking the color pink, being hungry, how it hurts to fall, and how super hero shows are not really very fun at all. Tamaki-chan is the youngest of the Noda clan (see previous post).

Tomodachi

During our stay in Japan, the only time Uta asked me how to say something in Japanese was when we were on our way to Narita airport to return home to NY. Our friends, the Noda family, were giving us a ride and a proper send off, with lots of waving and hand shaking. Papa Noda is an old friend of Papa H's. Over the years their friendship has grown right along with their families. Now we are all quite fond of each other, particularly Uta and their son Kiichi, who is just nine months older than Uta. Uta and Kiichi understand very few of each others words but remarkably they always seem to be in sync with what the other is saying. Together they conspired and giggled and battled their fathers, fortifying a friendship that may just last a lifetime.

Usually kids don't concern themselves with translations, which is why they learn new languages so swiftly, the route they take to understanding is direct, unencumbered with futile words from the old language. (I, on the other hand, can not say a single Japanese word without clarifying it in my mind with at least thirty english words. Slow doesn't begin to describe the speed at which I speak Japanese.) On this one occasion, however, when we were riding to the airport, Uta wanted to be certain that there was no misunderstanding. He turned to me and solemnly asked, "How do you say, Come to New York if you want to?" I told him. Then he turned to Kiichi. It took him a good five minutes to muster the courage to invite Kiichi to visit us in NY. Kiichi just smiled and softly grunted yes.

(Tomodachi means friend.)

Mandy

This is Uta’s pen pal Mandy. She sends Uta long hand written letters, sometimes with tiny (and silly) illustrations drawn in the margins that make Uta laugh. They are happy letters. Uta is always ecstatic when one arrives, for him (and me) it’s like discovering a buried treasure amongst the bills and junk that ordinarily crowds our mailbox. I think there is nothing better than getting a real letter in the mail. Today Uta received one on our way out. I read it to him while we walked to the train. Her letters are always loaded with delightful tidbits from her life, colorful details of everyday happenings that fill Uta’s mind with vibrant pictures. After I got through reading the letter I didn’t say anything, opting instead to let Mandy’s stories drift along with us in the silence as we walked. Uta smiled to himself for three full blocks before uttering a single word. (That’s a long time for Uta not to talk.) Then he said, ‘I love her.’

(Recently we got to visit Mandy in Maine. She gave Uta this party hat to prepare him for his upcoming birthday and generously let him run around abusing her camera.)

Living with balloons

I have never been able to interest Uta in a birthday party for himself, at least not one that included kids his own age. He got close to agreeing to it this year, he talked about sending out cards with yes or no printed on them, depending on if the recipient was invited or not. He even went so far as to whisper to his friend Willa on a recent play date that she would get a Yes card, but maybe not her baby brother. Not a very kind way to host a party, but in the end it was all a great big bluff, he refused to invite anyone.

Instead he had a birthday celebration in many parts over the course of several days. It kicked off with the balloons, and a small present. Two days later I baked a belated but much anticipated flourless chocolate cake with fresh whipped cream and raspberries, and Uta received a whopper of a present from Baba and Jiji, smuggled home in our suitcase from Japan. (Uta is mystified by this. How could it be that he was living under the same roof with such a glorious gift and completely unaware of its existence? How could I manage to get it home without him seeing it?) The following Day Pop took him to Coney Island to ride the free fall to his heart's content and splash about in the surf. And yesterday Grandpa T came with a present for every one of Uta's six years and the one thing Uta cherishes above and beyond all else, the willingness to lie on the floor and play. Grandpa T played, without breaks, for a good seven hours straight.

We are still living with more balloons than I care to count. A few have popped, several have shriveled, but most are healthy and strong, making a clear path through our railroad apartment a very far off dream. Uta thinks being six is fantastic.

Birthday boy

On the morning of his birthday, Uta woke up with his right ear beet red and swollen beyond recognition. We were upstate at Grandma's house and the previous evening Uta had squeezed his head between the posts of an old fence to get a closer look at some cows. At the moment there was no visible damage to the ear, no scrapes even, but by morning it was itchy beyond belief, and truly enormous, like one of Dopey's ears from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. On the train ride back down to the city the ear went from bad to worse, developing an oozing puss from the outer rim. I don't like the inexplicable when it comes to Uta's health, so as soon as we got to Grand Central I called his doctor and set up an appointment for later that day (twenty minutes later to be exact). After a mad rush to the lower east side, and a rather brisk visit with the doctor, we still had no answers as to why Uta had morphed into a very good likeness of Dopey. The doctor guessed it was an allergic reaction to something and not an infection and scribbled out a couple prescriptions, one topical and one oral.

When we finally got home it was after three, Uta was exhausted, and more than a little desperate to properly celebrate his birthday. I had hoped to get home the day before in order to make some special birthday arrangements, but aside from a gift stashed, unwrapped, on the top shelf of our closet, I had nothing. But when we opened the door to our apartment we were both blown away. Papa H had assembled a giant birthday greeting out of Legos and carpeted every inch of the floor with a rainbow of balloons. It was like walking into the middle of a field of poppies. Uta waded through the balloons completely awe struck and giddy. It took Uta some time before he believed that Pop could have created such a wonder, for him it was simply magic.

Uta is 6 !

In Japan...

You can buy giant live beetles at Toys R Us called Kabuto-mushi. When Papa H was a kid they captured them the old fashioned way, with a net at the park. Today there are none to be found at the park, so you'll have to go to the mall and spend about ten bucks. But that will just get you one, and that isn't any fun, because I assume anything with a giant horn protruding from its forehead is meant to fight. You will also need a cage and these little mini jello cups that apparently they like to eat. Kabuto-mushi are not only pets, they have inspired a whole subculture all their own. I have seen robots, action figures, amusement park rides, and of course superheroes, all in the likeness of this infamous beetle.

Metamorphosis of a Ninja (from Japan)