Checking in

I have fallen off the blogging wagon. That doesn't make any sense, but what I mean is that while I desperately want to document the curve of Lilit's cheeks and the crazy, insightful shit that Avisays, I feel so far behind that I'm not sure where to start.

Sweet Lilit loves chalk. She loves to draw--everywhere, which I can understand. I mean, if it's okay to spread chalk on the ground outside, why can't we also use crayons to spread color on hardwood floors, right? Don't be fooled by the smile; this girl is mischievous, but in the best possible way.

She loves Leeor's bookshelves, which are painstakingly arranged. I often find her perched beside them, her fingers poking the spines of his volumes, a knowing grin on her lips. I call her name and she looks at me, "What?" her face says. I redirect her and Leeor secretly loves that she is drawn to this part of him.

Now that Avi is in school, we have Monday mornings together, just the two of us. It's pretty great but also bittersweet for her; yesterday I found her burying her face in Avi's lovey. It appeared as if she was smelling it. I try to make up for his absence and sure, she is into me and everything, but I am no Avi. Their relationship is one of the best parts of being a parent.

Yesterday, after Avi got a painful flu shot and we went for ice cream to make it better, he kindly offered Lilit a bite of his cone, and this kid does not share his treats with anyone.

***

Tonight, as I walked Lilit around the block, her chubby left fist clutching one of Avi's trucks, I noticed the magic of the Japanese maple leaves, perfect in the waning light. The air felt cool enough to raise the hairs on my arms but I didn't mind not having a sweater.

I transferred her sleepy, warm body into her bed and felt a lot of gratitude. Avi stage-whispered from his room, "Mommy's back!" and another surge of gratitude flooded me. He is reading James and the Giant Peach with Leeor and he gives me an urgent play-by-play once I settle into his bed with him for our nightly ritual that has now become normal (Leeor reads with him and I "help him sleep"). His comprehension skills amaze me. Like when he told me about the part when James meets a lot of bugs in the peach (a grasshopper, spider, earthworm, centipede and a ladybug, to be exact. When Avi says earthworm, it sounds like "earsworm," which is pretty damn cute).

Leeor and I mostly look forward to the moment (anytime between midnight and 4 AM) when Avi pads into our room and climbs into our bed. Sometimes he has dreams to relay. Like the dream that found him walking on the Bay Bridge and a truck "had eyes and a mouth and wanted to eat me and there were cars everywhere (!!!)" and I said, "that sounds like it was a scary dream, honey, " and he nonchalantly replied, "yeah."

***

There is a skit from an episode of SNL (from last year, I think) that Leeor and I refer to as "the I Love It! guy." I feel like him right now: everything's great. I. love. it.

It's so trite but it's true. I love my family so much. We are not without our mundane struggles and tribulations but in the scheme of it all, please, it's not so terrible.

I love my husband. We can both be huge pains-in-asses but we are somehow perfectly suited for each other. We celebrate 5 years of marriage in a few weeks and it feels good.

My job is so satisfying right now. Sure, I was talking to a patient in crisis the whole drive to pick up Avi from school today and I had to take a deep breath, regroup before I entered the gate to the schoolyard so I could switch gears but it all happened pretty seamlessly. One moment I was professionally needed, the next, Avi's Mommy.

The days turn into weeks and in November we head to Israel for a couple of weeks. Our fall feels like it is dedicated to this important trip; the kids will meet their only living great-grandparent, Safta Ahuva, and so many relatives who already love them.

I was thinking today, as I closed the front door on the last streamers of sunlight, about fall. About how maybe I could hang our pumpkin lights on the front porch. And that while I usually jones for all-things-fall, this year I feel myself marinating in the last vestiges of summer, like a random tomato plant we found in our backyard. Avi suggested we pick the still-green tomatoes that grew secretly in a shady spot favored by the cat for his naps. I gently told him they wouldn't ripen if we picked them while they were still green and he seemed to understand.

Finding a surprise tomato plant in our yard feels like a good metaphor for right now--treasures in the ordinary moments in our lives. I love it.