You know that song “Sunrise,
Sunset” from the musical “Fiddler on the Roof”? Well, growing
up, whenever my dad heard that song, he would start tearing up and getting all
sorts of weepy. My sisters and I thought it was kind of funny, seeing a grown
man cry whenever he heard a particular song. It probably wasn’t nice of
us to MOCK my dad for being sensitive and getting emotional, but we were KIDS.
We didn’t understand. We thought he was being silly.
But now? I totally get it. If I heard “Sunrise, Sunset,” today, I would probably melt into a mess of tears, grab my children, and weep into their tiny
little heads.
Ever since I became a mom to Emmy, some 30 months ago, I have heard the
phrase “they grow up so quickly” more times than I have heard any
other words. Relatives, friends, co-workers, and strangers in the supermarket
have all instructed me to treasure these moments, when my children are so young
and tiny and cute, because “in the blink of an eye” they will be
angst-ridden teenagers, and in two blinks they will be visiting from college
less often than we would like, and in three blinks they will be bringing their
own kids over to our house for holiday celebrations.
I’ve taken these words to heart, really I have. But the truth
behind the words really sunk in yesterday.
When I brought the kids home from their Baba’s house in the
afternoon, Oren was exhausted and was in desperate need of a nap. I asked Em to
play nicely by herself for a few minutes, so I could put Baby O down for a
rest, and told her that after he was asleep I would come play with her.
Well, Em didn’t seem to pay attention to my request. As soon as I
had laid Oren down in my bed, Em started running up and down the hallway
screaming, “Mama! Mama! Look what I have! Mama, where is my shoes??
Mama!!” which of course woke Oren up and made him supremely miserable.
“Emmy, you have to be quiet,” I said. “Mama is
putting Oren down for a nap. Do you want to come here and snuggle with
us?”
“YESSS!” she screamed. And then she crawled into the big
bed with me and the miserable baby. I snuggled Em and Oren, and after a few
seconds Oren started closing his eyes again.
“Mama! I need my MASSY!! I need my MASSY!” Emmy started
wailing. Massy means pacifier, in Emmy lingo.
Oren again woke up and started screaming. I got out of bed, searched
for and found Em’s pacifier, and came back to my two miserable children.
“EMMY! You have to be quiet!!” I shout-whispered. “I
need you to cooperate or else you have to go to your own room. Oren needs to
take a nap!”
I handed her the massy.
“I don’t want THAT MASSY!! WAAAAAAAAAH!!” my lovely
daughter cried. Oren chimed in.
“Em, I can’t help you right now. Oren REALLY needs a nap.
You can either lie down with us, with THIS massy OR you can get a time
out!”
Ugh. I hate using “time out” as a threat to get Emmy to
cooperate. But it WORKED. Emmy stopped crying, snuggled into my body, and Oren
finally fell asleep. Once the baby was sleeping, I told Em we had to sneak out
of the room and shut the door without making any noise. She whispered “ok,”
and followed my lead.
Em and I tiptoed to the kitchen, where we started playing with the
refrigerator magnets. Suddenly, she turned to me.
“Mama, I sorry for talking in loud voice and waking up
baby.”
“Oh, Em. That’s ok.”
“I sorry for making you angry, Mama.”
“Oh, come here, Emmy. Its ok. Sometimes it is just hard for mama
to pay attention to you AND to baby brother. That’s why I ask you to
cooperate. Thank you for apologizing, Emmy. I love you.”
It was the first time Emmy had apologized to me on her own accord, with
complete awareness of what she had done to make me want to pull my hair out of
my head. I mean, sure, she had been behaving like a complete BABY five minutes
prior, but in her post-meltdown moment of self-reflection, she was behaving
like such an ADULT.
Later in the day, when Dada got home, he and I wanted to go to the
store to buy a window fan. Em was busy having fun riding her tricycle around in
our basement (it was raining outside) and seemed very UNinterested in joining us
on our expedition.
Usually the threat of us leaving the house is enough to motivate Emmy
to put down whatever she is doing so she can run towards us, screaming
“I’m coming! I’m coming!”
Not this time.
“Emmy, Dada and Oren and I are going shopping. Do you want to
come with us?”
“I stay here,” she said.
“Are you sure?” Dada and I asked. “You don’t
want to come with us?”
“No, that’s ok. I stay here and ride my tricycle.”
She continued riding around in circles. “Bye bye! See you later!”
C and I went up the basement stairs. Emmy didn’t budge.
“Em, we’re leaving! You SURE you don’t want to come
with us?” we asked.
C even shut off the light to the basement to see if THAT would motivate
Emmy.
“I’m ok,” Emmy called. “I not scared of
monsters. I stay here and ride my tricycle in the dark.”
Who WAS this child?? Was she two and a half, or had she suddenly become
a sixteen year old, eager to have some time in the house by herself, without
the ‘rents and her annoying kid brother?
I ALMOST started going down the stairs to start further negotiations
with Emmy when she decided that riding her tricycle around in a dark basement
by herself wasn’t totally thrilling, and she announced that she WOULD
honor us with her company on our trip.
Thank goodness.
“I can’t believe she called our bluff!” C said to me,
as we got everyone into the car. “We are going to be in such trouble when
she’s a teenager!”
I looked into the back seat, where our pint-sized girl was staring out
the window, looking very much like a toddler.
