Open and Shut

This morning, Leeor and I had an amazing tutorial from one his students on all things yard and garden. We soaked up information as we circled our small backyard, learning names of plants and trees, digging in the dirt, interrupting our teacher to ask questions or attend to one of the kids. Thankfully, my mom was with us, too, so it was slightly more seamless. It felt good to get to know our little plot of urban soil that has already turned so lush without much effort from our own hands.

Saba and Safta arrived as I was digging splinters out of Avi's hands; Grandma distracting him with silly stories while Dr. Mommy applied tea tree oil and tried to be gentle. There was much unloading of delicious food items into the kitchen; Avi trolled for treats outside in their car (he was sucessful) and then wanted to read his new book several times. Leeor joked about eating again so soon after breakfast; I remember looking at the clock and noting that it was almost 11 am.

Safta suddenly wondered whether someone was here. I didn't know what she meant until she ran toward the front door, as did the rest of us in unison after she exclaimed someone was there. I still felt confused; my version of these events is merely one as I know we each remember it differently. I had been sitting on the couch with Avi but was lured by the gyros meat being warmed in the kitchen. My mom, Saba, Safta and Leeor were in the kitchen, too. Lilit still napped in her room. We never noticed that our front door was slightly ajar, never heard the man walk in, cross the smooth floor, sweep my mom's purse into his arms and then leave.

We all ran outside in a small swarm of chaos. The man seemed to have disappeared--how could that be? we wondered collectively. As we floundered, it occurred to me we needed to call the police. I have no idea what my tone of voice sounded like when I asked Leeor to call, but all of the sudden I was worried about Avi. The adults swirling, shouting. The palpable fear turning quickly to anger. The violation.

Avi was running around, too, swept up into our tsunami of feelings. I could suddenly focus on him and slide my own upset to the side. My girl safe and sleeping in her room, I could devote all my attention to my spongy, sensitive son who is too smart, too attuned to everything around him. Perhaps I am too attuned to him--I certainly was when he was an infant, but this is who we are, the roles we play.

The rest is a melting pot of police cars, texts, phone calls and visits from neighbors. It was a crazy few hours. The police found my mom's purse (Safta quipped about watching a lot of NCIS but I actually think she was the one who suggested to the police that they look in nearby garbage cans because the man was smart enough to ditch it after he removed the wallet, and she was right), Avi had some big freak outs and eventually settled into a nap in Lilit's room (after she had woken up). He considered his nap options (I could sleep in my room, your room, baby's room, or on the couch, but baby will probably make too much noise out here so maybe I should sleep in her room, and you can put the baby waves on and I will be a baby for a little while) before he crashed for a few hours. It seemed to have a restorative effect.

I walked with Lilit while he napped and Leeor showered; he had returned to the yard in full force after our parents left. He brings an Israeli perspective to things like our minor home invasion; no one was hurt. Things like this happen; it could have been so much worse.

But I like to process with girlfriends. I talked to one on the phone while I pushed Lilit in the stroller down busy San Pablo Avenue, walking away from the scene of the crime, walking and talking it out. It helped. Being outside helped. Thinking about celebrating Auntie Jen's birthday tomorrow helped, too.

We went to our friend's birthday party in the city tonight. The traffic over the Bay Bridge was terrible because someone was contemplating jumping. It took us over an hour to get to our friend's new house in Noe Valley. The kids were grumpy in the car and Leeor and I felt tired. But we had a good night with them. Processed the events of the day some more.

The alarm is on, and I can't say I don't feel a little edgy tonight, jumping at noises. I feel regressed, too, back to my old fears I experienced when we first moved in a few months ago, but with a slightly different flavor.

Avi wanted to know why a stranger would walk into our house and take Grandma's purse. Leeor and I did our best to explain that some people have very little, that they feel so desperate they do things that aren't okay, like steal. Avi wondered if it had been a monster who entered our home and took Grandma's purse. Just under 3 and a half years old, he lives in a world alive with fantasy.

Truthfully, we all have invasive monsters inside and out. Leeor and I realize we have to be more cautious, more aware of our urban surroundings. We felt the vulnerability that comes with the inability to control everything even though we'd do anything to keep our kids safe. It's so unsettling to have these kinds of realizations wash over us. We feel powerless and want to take action. It's good to take precautions, to keep our blinds closed, like the kind police officer suggested. Obviously, we will not leave the front door open.

I am more naive than Leeor; I never want to believe people will do harm. But I also refuse to live in fear. This is our home and I celebrate it with a fervor I haven't yet felt. My initial feelings of unworthiness burned with the sage Avi and I lit together and wafted around the front room after the grandparents left today, Safta riding with my mom with Saba following them in his car, their own healing caravan. Do it again, Mommy, he instructed. He wanted to hold it himself and I let him; he needed to take ownership of his experience, and so did I. Writing it down helps put it all into perspective, too. We remain abundant, hopeful, celebratory; a little jaded but hopefully smarter, too.