Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Happy Holidays From The Yoys

My blogging is way out of order as I'm on vacation and my brain is not fully functioning.

We spent Christmas Eve at the club pool.  The boys enjoy swimming, but more importantly, they enjoy the free ice cream.

After lunch we swung by the ice cream cart where a nice employee was handing out the goods to all the children.

She smiled at my wet, food-crusted children.

DO YOU KNOW WHO IS COMING TO YOUR HOUSE TONIGHT?

Ah, sh*t here we go again.

Big E thought about it for a second.

NO ONE IS COMING TO OUR HOUSE TONIGHT.  WE ARE HAVING DINNER AT MY AUNT AND UNCLE'S.

I was hoping that would be the end.  But this poor lady was mining for some Christmas excitement from my kids and all she was going to get was a lump of coal.

WELL ARE YOU EXCITED FOR TOMORROW?

She came in from a different angle.

I made the slash throat signal to her and mouthed "we're Jewish".

No need.

Big E launched into his well-rehearsed Jewish spiel.  When he was finished with her she eked out a happy holidays.

I know everyone loves the holidays, me included.  We rock out to the MistleYoy Spotify playlist all month long.  But I am relieved that I no longer have to hear my child disclose to the world our religious preference.  I'm trying to teach him a tactful way to respond to "Merry Christmas" but we haven't mastered it yet.  Maybe Christmas 2015 will be our year.

Maps. Not Naps.

The Yoys are wintering in Florida.  It is glorious. We have six days left until we head back to the frozen reality of January.

Today we mixed things up a bit.  Instead of spending our eighth consecutive day at the pool, we decided to do the beach.

Growing up in Florida, I rarely went to the beach. I didn't want to look 50 when I turned 30 and the sand was enough to drive this Type A-er crazy.

But I know the boys LOVE the beach, so I took one for the team.

It took an eternity to load up the car with our beach gear.  I'm pretty sure we packed more for the beach than we did for our entire two week jaunt to Florida.

We finally reached the beach.  As we walked down the splintery, wooden steps onto the hot sand, the boys could barely contain their excitement.

LOOK MOM!  I CAN SEE EUROPE!

Oh, Big E.  I'm super amped that you take interest in world geography, I really am. And you are correct.  Somewhere on the other side of the great, big Atlantic Ocean is the continent of Europe. But shouting out that nugget to the crowded beach made me want to crawl into an abandoned conch shell.


Digging to China.  Or possibly Europe.

Thursday, December 18, 2014

Big E: Belly-Acher-Faker

It's a little after ten, but I feel like I've used up all my mommy mojo for the day.

This morning started out like any other.  Early, dark, and cold.  I got both Yoys up, dressed, fed and ready for the bus in 25 minutes flat.

Soon after Big E finished eating his breakfast he began to complain his belly hurt.  I told him to go to the bathroom.  He refused and instead decided to clean up his playroom.

I knelt down and looked him right in the eyes.

DOES YOUR BELLY REALLY HURT?

There was some serious overacting happening with him which led me to believe this was all a fake job.

Big E moaned and yelled in pain and I told him if he was really sick to get into bed and that was where he'd remain the rest of the day.

After Little E got on the bus, I came back inside and checked on Big E.  He was in bed writing in his journal.

"TODAY I'M SICK. I CAN NOT GO TO SCOOL."

Big E was really covering all the bases, but I still didn't believe him.  I've seen this kid ill before.  And he looked bad.  Today, he just looked guilty.

Big E stayed quietly in his room for about an hour, but then came out to ask if he could watch some TV.

SICK LITTLE BOYS STAY IN THEIR BEDS ALL DAY.  NO TV.

He kept running back and forth between our bedroom and his, further casting doubt on his belly ache.  The last thing I want to do when my stomach hurts is go for a run.

We had plans go to Uncle Yoy's to celebrate Chanukah later today.  Big E was not going to be able to go because he was either sick or lying about being sick, which is a big time no-no in my book.

I tried to call his pediatrician to schedule an appointment, and Big E hung up my phone in pure fear.

Mr. Yoy and I talked to him about lying and why he didn't want to go to school and he FINALLY came clean a little after 9.

He was bored and tired of taking "testes".

Mr. Yoy told Big E to get dressed while he got cleaned up for work and he'd drop him off at school.  And Big E agreed.

Except he put on shorts.  And it's 40 degrees.


Friday, December 12, 2014

Big E: On the Naughty List

December has reared its holiday head again.  

As the parents of only a handful of Jewish children at the Yoys elementary school, we field unlimited questions from them regarding Christmas.

WHY CAN'T WE BE CHRISTIAN?

WHY CAN'T WE HANG LIGHTS?

WHY CAN'T WE HAVE A TREE?

WHY DOESN'T SANTA COME TO SEE US?

It's enough to break my heart, really.  I understand the feelings.  I can still remember feeling like the outsider at my elementary school. 

WAIT.  I'M LEFT-HANDED AND JEWISH?!  I'M A FREAK!

Our house was the only one not lit up on our block.  We were the dark, Jewish island on our festive street.  For a child, it was a major, big-time bummer.  

Mr. Yoy let the Santa out of the bag during one of Big E's angst-ridden Christmas rants.  

SANTA ISN'T REAL, BIG E.  

I almost strangled him on sight.  How could he tell Big E that?  The boy that rattles off every personal nugget of info to anyone that makes eye contact.  For sure he was going to say something to his buddies.

I didn't make a big deal out of it in the hopes it would be forgotten. {CUE OMINOUS MUSIC}

Wednesday, I received the text I didn't want to see.

Big E had told one of his school friends that Santa wasn't real and his mom asked me to talk to Big E about keeping that to himself.  I felt horrible and was mortified.  I hated the thought of ruining Christmas for a five year old.   My body was racked with Jewish guilt.

After school, I had the talk with Big E.  I hate to lie to him, but sometimes he gives me no other choice.  I told him one of his friends' mommies had contacted me about things he was saying at school.

BIG E, SANTA IS REAL.  WE JUST TOLD YOU HE WASN'T BECAUSE WE DIDN'T WANT YOU TO BE SAD.  SORRY, BUD.  GO PLAY WITH YOUR DREIDEL.

He didn't seem too upset by this.  He was more interested in which friend's mom had contacted me.  This immediately alerted me to something bigger.

WELL HOW MANY FRIENDS DID YOU TALK TO ABOUT SANTA NOT BEING REAL?

He rattled off like half his class.  Sweet.  I'm sure an angry mommy mob will swing by later to enact their revenge on me and my big mouthed kid.