Cohen Family Weekend

This is the kind of weekend that I hope my kids think of when they remember their childhood.  I've got Sarah, Jessica, Sam, Glennys, Caroline, and Sasha all outside, riding cozy coupes and wagons down the hill and screaming as loud as they can.

In my house, Thursday was a holiday

There are lots of things that Marc brought into my life, he's brilliant and kind and a wonderful father.  He introduced me to Judaism, libertarian-ism, and of course, gave me three awesome kids.  One of the things I've found most interesting is that I've found myself doing things I would never have thought I'd do (like having a total stranger chop off part of my son's penis, converting to a religion that was completely foreign to me, and - please don't tell my mother - voting Republican in the last election).

But I haven't been able to get on board with his deep and abiding love of the New England Patriots.  It's football, and that means really nothing to me.  My only vague experience is thru high school Friday night games, and I just cheered when everyone else did (which did mean that I cheered at least half the time when the opposing team did something good - which did not win me points).  I'm not a sports girl.  I'm the farthest you can get from athletic.  I'm perplexed, at best, when it comes to understanding why this matters to him, but it does.  And because I love him, because we are raising our children together, I make Patriots Football Games (yes, it does need to be capitalized) serious events at our house.

Everything stops.  Everyone must be involved - you don't have to be watching the game, but you do have to be in the room or within hearing distance.  We usually eat the same thing (Marc's a big believer in ritual) and engage in the same activities.  I curl up on the couch next to him, reading my book and nodding supportively when it seems appropriate.  I make the kids come in and listen when he explains what's happening on-screen.  I even make a game of pronouncing Ocho-Cinco.  The kids can stay up as late as they want, as long as they are paying attention to the game (or at least, in the room, not making any noise).

And last Thursday - I really, really enjoyed it.  It was a lovely night.  Julianna went down to bed early, Jessie built an entire city of blocks and figurines on my dining room table and Sam puttered on the floor.  Marc and I snuggled up on the couch, I read my book (Cinderella Ate My Daughter - awesome book) and I was achingly content.  It was one of those moments (and fortunately, there are many of them in my life these days) when I was just happy to be me, here, with these people.  And I have the New England Patriots to thank for it.

My anti-social koala boy is growing up...

We went to Canobie Lake yesterday - which is a big, old fashioned (I say old fashioned because I went there every year when I was a kid and I don't think it's changed at all) amusement park.  We've been several times with the kids - and quite frankly, Sam has hated it every time we've gone.  He's occasionally, borderline, sort of not been miserable, but actual enjoyment?  Nope.

And I just figured it was Sam.  He didn't like big crowds, he didn't like new places.  But I realized yesterday that, while all of that was true when he was two and three and four, now that he's FIVE - it's a whole new world and I spent most of the day just utterly impressed at how big he's gotten.  And only a tiny bit wistful, because he's getting so big so fast.

He rode EVERYTHING.  Scary rides that I knew he wouldn't be able to handle, but let him go on anyway, because he begged and I believe in letting them make their own choices, when possible.  He didn't cry once, he'd hop off a ride, holler "That was AWESOME!",and look for the next one.  He was perfectly behaved the entire time (which was more than I can say for his sisters - one wandered off and got lost, one cried for twenty minutes on the way home because we weren't home yet, one sobbed thru the park on the way to the car because she was "dizzy sick" and her blisters hurt, and the other one is a year old and resented being put in the carriage).  Sam was amazing - he was articulate, described with letter perfect accuracy where a ride was located, rode everything he wanted, rode home happily in the least favorite seat and was, in general, the best behaved child there.

My anti-social little clingy boy is growing up.  And I can't believe how proud I am.

this summer is exactly what I wanted it to be...

Julianna Ruth is napping peacefully on my bed, cooled by the ceiling fan and with the door mostly shut.  She's still using receiving blankets as loveys - and in a stroke of brilliance, I decided to keep switching them up, making sure that she always has at least one (and usually two) but varying which ones are on the bed with her.  This way, if we lose one, I can just grab of the seventeen thousand other receiving blankets I have laying around.

Jessica Mary is outside, splashing in my $10 Walmart pool with her best friend Glennys.  They've got bathing suits and sunblock on, and towels laid out in the sun.  Sam and Harrison are bopping around the house, armed to the teeth with light sabers and plastic guns, playing secret agents.  Secret Agents is code for "let's go bug the girls" but until they girls start yelling and complaining, I'm going to let it slide.

VERY pleased with the decision to do nothing major this summer, no camp or structured plans.   Just an old fashioned, play outside, do what you want as long as you stay occupied and happy kind of summer.  I hope the kids always remember this...

Marriage with small children

It's a side effect of having small children, I think.  It's so overwhelming at times that the marriage becomes secondary.  It's the basis of it all, but not always, not nearly enough sometimes, the center of it.  I'm really blessed because my marriage is really, really strong.  So it absorbs a certain amount of neglect.  I think that everything comes in stages, there was a time when Marc and I were the most important thing, and a time when we were just a family of three.  Then a time when we were a family of four and Lilli and Sarah were over all the time and things were hectic and crazy.  Then Julianna came along, the girls got even older, and now we're readjusting to a family with two kids in school (still trying to get used to the fact that my Sammy boy will be away from me all day five days a week), a toddler and busy, active adolescent step daughters.

But every now and again - I realize how fragile marriage is.  That's not right - because it's not fragile, I know that I love Marc and he loves me the way I know that my eyes are brown and the sky is blue.  The marriage isn't fragile.  I realize how vital the marriage is - and how terrifying it would be if I didn't have that behind me.  If I didn't have that connection.  I'm literally one of the happiest people I know.  I love my life, I really, really love being at home with my children, I love having three kids.  I love the ease of my life, the lack of drama, the comfortable-ness of it all.  Marc and I rarely, if ever, actually fight. And even if we do, we fight calmly, we don't throw things, we don't name call.  And we never, ever, don't resolve it.   If I didn't have the marriage, if I didn't have Marc, I can't imagine how I'd ever be happy.  Not like this.

Yesterday was one of those days when we actually had a fight (over perhaps the stupidest thing).  And I was angry - really angry, and that's so unusual that it was scary for me.  Marc was angry too, and between his anger and mine, it was a really unfamiliar place for us.  I'm not used to feeling not connected to him, and even after we made up, I still felt all shaky and vulnerable.

And we did make up, and slept last night all tangled up together and everything is fine this morning.  We're a little more careful with each other, a little extra solicitous and thoughtful.  I just want to remember this, this sense of gratitude and thankfulness.  Not just that we made up, because of course we were going to make up,  but because it is so scary to me when we fight.  Because not having that connection, not feeling like we're a team and doing this together is so terrifying and so completely wrong.  Not everyone has that.  Not everyone feels that.  And as much as I hated fighting with my husband, I'm grateful for the fight today - because it reminded me not to take it for granted.  Not to take the peace, the connection, the love for granted.

I love you, honey, more than you'll know.  And if I forget sometimes to tell you, between diaper changes and baths and stories and cleaning the toys up and doing the laundry, just remind me, okay?

Best fireworks ever

Every year, I go see the fireworks with Marc at the old courthouse.  We've been going since Jess was about two, so I went when I was nine months pregnant with Sam, and when Julianna was just a tiny little love bug, asleep in her pram.  This year, I think it was my all time favorite.  We just had my three (Lilli was home sick and Sarah had come for dinner, but bailed before the fireworks actually started), and Marc's parents had come along for the first time.  I wore Miss Julianna in the carrier, and Sam brought his friend Sasha from down the street.  We had snacks and water, and the very best part was that it started pouring right as the fireworks started.  It rained for a few minutes, and then cleared away, and everyone was drenched and cheerful in the way that you are when something unexpected happens.  But it was lovely, the kids were all happy and thrilled, I was able to really just sort of relax, Sam was playing with Sasha, Jessie was munching on cheese puffs and sharing them with a very happy baby (although she was distinctly ill amused with the rain).  It was one of those moments when I looked at Marc and was exceedingly happy to be doing this with him.

And by "this," I mean so much more than just watching fireworks in the rain.  I've been pondering what goes into making a happy marriage.  I think sometimes what keeps Marc and I together and happy is a combination of really high expectations and absolute commitment.  I think Marc would accept less, in terms of marriage satisfaction - he's in it forever regardless.  Whereas I really, really won't accept less,  I have a different perspective on marriage.  I've never seen a successful marriage, not really.  My grandparents (and my grandmother passed away when I was still a child).  My parents split up when I was six, all of my aunts have divorced.  Even the people I knew who were married didn't seem all that happy about it - and even today, so many of the marriages that I see are not anything I'd want to be a part of.   Getting married, for me, was something I could get myself to do only by telling myself that if it didn't work, I could always get a divorce.  For Marc, it was absolute, he WAS NOT getting a divorce, ever.  The combination of those two, my need for it to be a marriage unlike everyone else's - my marriage was going to strong, or it wasn't going to be, and Marc's absolute and utter commitment - he's not considering anything else, is what makes us work.

Marc and I - somehow, against all odds (because, really, you would never have put us together on paper - he was a very newly divorced Jewish guy with two kids from Worcester, I was a single very non Jewish girl with virtually no long term relationship experience who thought of Worcester as SO FAR away from everything), have built this really, really incredible relationship.  He's my best friend, my partner, my... everything.  And I know that he feels the same way.  We're in this together, in a way that I never imagined I could be, in a way that I didn't know existed really.  I still don't exactly understand how I got this lucky, but thank God every day for it.

Happiness is a $10 pool from Walmart

As we were filling it up with air (it's a 3 ring pool) and all the kids (Jessica, Sam, Glennys, Julianna, and our neighbor Caroline) were all clustered around, clutching onto the sides, (I had told them they had to hold it - mainly to keep them occupied, they were so happy they were vibrating with joy), Caroline said "I love the Cohens."  I don't know if she was talking to us, or if she was just making a general statement to the universe - but either way, I was happy to hear it :-).  Even happier to hear the shrieks and giggles and laughter coming from the backyard.  Because if you can buy happiness for $10, you should.  Every chance you get.