Langer Loksh

Charlie Just

tinkled on the potty

Circle of Smiles: There's Always a Reason to Smile

What One Family Can Do (More Spoilers)

One night this week when Jeff was away, I put Charlie to bed and then settled down with Summer for a girl's night movie. We chose Molly: An American Girl on the Home Front, which a friend had recorded for me at my request. We loved the Samantha and Felicity movies, so we were excited to tuck into our caramel corn and enjoy the show.

I cried the entire time.

The single mother loses her pride and joy, her only son. The beautiful third-grade teacher loses her dashing fiance. This is World War II. Entire towns are wiped of their menfolk. The city of London--London, how did you people recover from that? "I can't take this," I sobbed to Summer. "I know, Mommy, but we have to find out what happens!" she replied.

As the credits rolled, I blubbered to Summer, "War is terrible. We have to work to end all war and make peace." And Summer, the human cliche, said, "I know, Mommy, but what can we do? We're only one family!" I told her, "Even one family can make a difference. Remember how Molly was rolling bandages for the soldiers? We are going to send care packages for the soldiers."

You can help too. Make a toiletry kit for the LTC Dad Project.

Each toilet kit should contain:

1 disposable razor
1 toothbrush with small toothpaste
1 deodorant
1 small bottle of shampoo (6 oz or so)
1 bar of unscented soap
1 travel size package of tissues

Please note:

• NO AEROSOL CANS (can't be mailed)
• NO LARGE SIZE ITEMS (can't be stored)

Each kit should be in a ZIPLOCK Easy Zipper plastic bag please. These are the easiest to open and will last longer.

You are welcome to stick a little note inside that says "Get well soon," "Thank you for your service," or "We are thinking of you." (Why not stick in some of your kids' crayon masterpieces.)  

Drop off or send to:

B. Petr, 26 Nashoba Road, Acton, MA 01720

LTC Dad also sends backpacks with school supplies over for the Iraqi children. And if it's easier to just send a huge package or razors or tissues or whatever, you can do that too and volunteers will assemble the kits. For more information, email bpetr@att.net.

Kindergarten Registration

The Big K! We've registered our little S!

We attended the parent information night at the junior high. On the way in we were cracking up about something that had happened in Finland last summer. There was this preposterous faux goth rock band that our little cousin Peter loved; on the ship between Helsinki and Stockholm they played the group's top hit and Summer moshed with all the little Scandinavian tots and the big costumed Moomin. We couldn't remember the name of the band.

In the junior high auditorium we all reverted to our junior high personae. Jeff shifted in his seat and rolled his eyeballs; Sarah, Maureen, Bret and I all passed notes and whispered and waved not very subtly at other parents we knew scattered around the room.

We picked up yellow, blue, purple, green, goldenrod, and salmon colored handouts and thick packets of white forms to fill out. The assistant superintendant showed a PowerPoint presentation of children playing with blocks. The slides had that Peanuts-style font and a border of crayons, in case we dozed off and awoke in a panic wondering why we were trapped in an overheated auditorium--oh right right, kindergarten!

"And on page 43..." droned the assistant superintendant. Jeff stretched his arms up, leaned over, and whispered, "Lordy!" I answered, "Oh my God, I know!" He said, "No, no, Lordi. That's the Finnish band."

I'm surprised I didn't get sent to the principal's office for laughing.    

Siblings

Summer, January, 2004:

Charlie, February, 2007:

Squirmy by Proxy

There's a mom in my Early Intervention group that I've mentioned before. She has a son Charlie's age with mild to moderate hearing loss in both ears. With his two hearing aids in, his hearing is normal. This mom is very concerned about placing her child in a special preschool for the hearing impaired.

There's another mom, kind of new, with a baby who has some hearing loss but also lots of other health and developmental problems. For example he cannot breathe or swallow on his own. He seems happy and alert, but clearly, he's not going to hit his milestones.

Mom #1, to me and Mom #2: "It was so cute at dinner the other night, Lance was singing that little song they sing at circle time, and saying the names of all the other kids! 'I have a friend and his name is Kermit, say hello to Kermit!' t's so sweet that he knows all the other kids' names!

Mom #1 was saying this to Mom #2 to make her feel good, to let her know that Lance considers baby Kermit his friend. I was sitting in the middle and could not detect any squirminess on the part of Mom #2, but I myself felt very squirmy, so I can only imagine how squirmy Mom #2 felt. I mean, Lance is Charlie's same age and Charlie has maybe 1/100th of the vocabulary of Lance. He says "Dada" to every man and every moving vehicle he sees. And Kermit, well, we don't know if he'll ever be able to breathe without a tube, so, good luck with learning the song. Make sure you get Lance enrolled in that special school, there, Mom #1! 

I know I'm oh so sensitive, and I know it's not a competition, my God, especially not at Early Intervention. Which, by the way, I'd missed for a whole month due to sickness and vacation and snow, and when I returned, I almost cried from relief. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed it, how much I'd missed being in a room full of people who understand what it feels like when your kid isn't typical--not that it's a horrible feeling, it's just a constant undercurrent and even if you forget about it it's still there sucking away at your reserves, even if you have a great vacation and you think it's the farthest thing from your mind, it isn't, because you're constantly watching everyone else to see if they're watching your kid and it takes a toll.

And maybe Mom #2 wasn't mentally comparing kids. But I was. And I think Mom #1 maybe should have said something else, something like, "I think Lance really likes Kermit," and left it at that. 

The Second Most Fun Ride at Disney World

after Big Poop Mountain has got to be It's a Small Elevator After All. In Orlando Charlie immediately mapped our hotel on his brain so he could streak through it like a cat in the dark. One day he bolted to the elevator and boarded it before I even rounded the corner. The doors closed. Ding!

Summer and I quickly got on another elevator and rode to the lobby. When we got out I could hear Charlie crying. I waited for our elevator door to close,  then pressed the up arrow. Charlie's elevator door opened. He was very happy to see me.

It all happened very quickly; I didn't have time to get upset. But I'm not sure what I would have done if we'd been in a bigger building or one with a non-glass elevator. Phew!

Spoiler

Summer pointed to the cover of the book I was reading, The Plot Against America, and asked "What's that?" It was a swastika. "A symbol of evil," I answered. "Is that what evil looks like?" she asked. I answered, "Yes. It's a book about what could have happened if evil people took over America." (If you're planning to read the book, which is very, very good--mostly because Roth so convincingly renders what it was like to be a nine-year-old boy, a boy in my father's old Jewish Newark neighborhood--you might not want to keep reading, but it doesn't really matter.)

Julie's in the same book club. She came over one evening and saw the book on the table. "Did you finish?" she asked, sitting down next to Summer. "Not yet," I said. Summer turned to Julie and said, "So Julie, tell me what it's like when evil wins." I went to go get a hair elastic as Julie leaned over and whispered to Summer. When I came back into the room Summer said "Hey Mommy guess what?!" Julie said "You can't tell your mom!" Summer said, "Oh, yeah, we were just discussing... um... spring! Yeah, spring! With all the lovely flowers! Like... these!" She pointed at the bouquet she'd selected earlier at Trader Joe's.

A week later, the kids and I were out with my friend Nancy, who asked me what I was reading. "Hey Mommy did you finish?" Summer asked. "Yes I did!" I said. "Isn't it great!" she said. "Evil doesn't win!"

I called Julie to tell her Summer had kept the secret. She told me about Summer's huge smile upon hearing the ending. "It wasn't that she had a secret from her mom," Julie said. "She was just so happy that evil didn't win." 

An Open Letter to Mitt Romney

Dear Mitt:

TV stations keep flashing poll results about whether Americans will accept a mormon president. They are missing the point. The question should be whether Americans will accept someone who is such a tool. That's how Garry Trudeau would have to draw you, as a tool, since he's already used a feather and a waffle.

I was mortified for you when went on the Today show to denounce gay marriage. It was so obvious that moments after being elected governor you were freaking out about your monomaniacal pursuit of the presidency. You were having nightmares about the headlines in the heartland papers: "Massachusetts changes nickname from Bay State to Gay State; Governor throws homo orgy on Beacon Hill."

Then when you finally announced last week, you chose the Henry Ford Museum as a venue. When you open your wallet to flash us your brand new NRA membership card, will your Hate Mongers of America card slip out as well? Yes yes, the NRA! In perfect harmony with your abortion flip flop--why, by the way, aren't the talk shows killing you on this, a la John Kerry--you've just joined the NRA, after voting for gun control laws in the past.

Glove Dude, we're real glad you balanced our state budget, but my little brother could do that. Why don't you go back to the Lego factory that made your head and tell them they were so busy molding your candidate hair they neglected to insert your conscience.

Yours,

Jill Q. Voter

Houston, We Have a Problem

Thanks to cool chicks like Sally Ride, Summer will grow up knowing that the sky is not the limit. Summer can be an astronaut or anything else she puts her mind to. That's why I find this T-shirt at the NASA gift shop demeaning. What if a girl likes space? What if she wants to fly into space and operate the robotic arm and fix the roof of the International Space Station? Doesn't she wear the same orange flight suit that the guys wear? Isn't she a scientist, not a princess? Disney Princesses are one thing, but let's keep the final frontier free of gender stereotypes, k?