What's really important

Lev got off to a slow start with speaking, which makes his every word all the more thrilling to my ears. He's surprisingly adept at noticing emotions and attitudes. It's rather humbling to have your 2-year-old comment on your "stinky at-ti-tude," but sometimes he's right. My attitude does stink.  And he says it so sweetly that the stink lessens.

This weekend, for the first time, he was able to tell us that he felt scared. And then Dietrich came over and kindly helped him through the scary situation. (It involved climbing over some mesh on a play structure.) I will hold on to that moment for years to come. 

But it's not all "let's talk about how we're feeling" all the time over here. We're passing along other important life lessons, too.

Lev knows Star Wars from josie oldenburg on Vimeo.

Brothers

All about Lev

My little Lev is turning into quite the joker.

Joke number 1: About a month ago, Lev started calling everything and everyone "bad guy." I know, when you read that in black-and-white, it sounds a little frightening, but Lev is so sweet-spirited in every other way, and he says "bad guy" with such an impish smile, that it's clearly a joke.

The new fountain by our house? Decorated with water-spitting bad guys.

Bad guys. That he build HIMSELF.

Plastic letters? Bad guys. Mama and Daddy? Bad guys. The contenders in the presidential debates? Bad guys. Lev himself?

Bad guy.
 
Joke number 2: "What do you want to drink, Lev? Milk or juice?"

"Ooce!"

As soon as I start pouring the "ooce:" "Milk, milk, milk!"

Joke number 3: Lev sits down on a bus bench. There's a boy sitting next to him. Lev looks over and say, "Boy!"

"Yes, that's right," I reply.

Lev proceeds to point at the boy's very feminine mother and proclaims: "Boy!"

"Nope, she's a girl," I say.

"No! Boy! Boy! Boy," he replies giggling.

Sometimes I luck out, and people don't understand the not-really-appropriate things that my kids say. For instance, the helper in Dietrich's former class didn't speak any English, which was good, as he was prone to say, "I don't like her," when she walked by.

Alas, the boy's mom spoke English. But, thankfully, she giggled, too. 

For the boys

Eric and I are going to be away at a conference for a week, and I'm feeling a bit, um, emotional about leaving my munchkins. They are in good -- no, make that excellent -- hands, but still. I miss them already, and I don't leave for another 24 hours.

I've tried to funnel some of that emotional energy into things that, I hope, will help them realize I'm thinking of them, even if I'm not present with them. I've made playdough. I've packed up little goodie bags. I've constructed a count-down-the-days chain, with a note from me on each day.

And, I made these videos. Each night, I'll sing and read to the boys from the comfort of Miss Lois' laptop. Do you need a bedtime story and a lullaby? If so, watch on!

reading from josie oldenburg on Vimeo.


singing from josie oldenburg on Vimeo.

Celebrating autumn

Dietrich started his last year of Ukrainian preschool/kindergarten on September 3, and by September 21, the whole school already had prepared a 90-minute show.



As I understood it, some Important Officials were stopping by for a visit, so this show was a Big Deal. As in, we couldn't skate by wearing slacks and a Ukrainian shirt. We had to go rent the whole traditional costume. But the air was a bit chilly on the day of the show, so they had Dietrich wear his old-school cassette-tape sweatshirt over his costume, which rather negated the effect.

We also had to bring nature-themed decorations. Our flower-petal butterfly and glittery pinecone tree were unlike anything anyone else brought, but they still looked pretty. One kid made a dragon out of acorns, with maple-leaf wings. It was rad, and if we ever have to make another nature-themed decoration, we will shamelessly copy that idea.

Evidently, the Important Officials arrived early, because the show started about an hour before its scheduled time. I made it just in time to watch Dietrich's class do its dance to Generous Autumn. 



I also got to meet the little girl who had Dietrich all starry-eyed. Here they are knocking on watermelons together.

And he held her hand all the way back to the classroom.

 

Young love, 'tis a fickle creature. Here it is, one month later, and he never even mentions her! 

Scenes from the shower room

Our water gets shut off quite a bit. Any time anyone who lives in our part of the building needs to fix something in their bathroom, everyone's water gets shut off. For at least two weeks in the summer, the hot water is shut off so that the city can work on the pipes. And it seems like lots of other little problems crop up that result in no water, or just cold water, or just hot water. We're always pretty happy to have the water come back, even though this is what it looks like for the first five minutes or so.   

I'm not griping, by the way. I am completely thankful that 99 (98? 97?) percent of the time we have both hot and cold running water. After all, I have boys to bathe.

I gave the boys their first bubble bath about a week ago. Lev doesn't say a lot, but now he does say bubble bath. Insistently. Every night. I've created a bubble monster.

A tale of two cakes

Preschool and kindergarten are combined in the Ukrainian school system, with kids having the same teacher, classroom and classmates from the time they start preschool until the time they move on to primary school.

But Dietrich was the second-youngest in his class last year, and he missed the cutoff for primary school by two days. We're thankful that he gets one more year in a less-formal setting to practice his Ukrainian, but it means that he joined a class that has been together for the past three years.  He's not entirely alone in this; about six other kids from his old class also are taking another year of kindergarten.

The new class is big. Thirty-seven kids. One teacher. One helper. They've asked anyone who can to pick up their child after lunch, because there aren't enough beds for naptime. (Dietrich stopped napping three years ago, so I've been picking him up around lunchtime since he started school, and I'm thrilled that it's now officially sanctioned. I'm no longer a weird-o, at least when it comes to pick-up time.) The teacher has warned us that she won't be sending home homework unless it's specifically requested, and she won't be hanging up artwork because it would take too long.

She also strongly suggested that we abandon candy and juice boxes for birthdays, and bring cake instead.

In my family of origin, birthdays mean chocolate. My mom has been making the same rich, moist chocolate cake for as long as I can remember. When Eric and I started to get serious, she passed the recipe along to me in a little book called "My Keepsake Recipes." Our wedding cake? White on the outside, mom's chocolate cake on the inside.

However, in Dietrich's new class, no chocolate allowed! Too many parents don't allow their kids to eat chocolate, the teacher explained.

So, Dietrich ended up with two cakes, one to suit his classmates' tastes, and one to suit my tastes.

Ukrainians often comment on how sweet we Americans like our desserts, so I knew I needed something with a bit less sugar. And Ukrainians are excellent at cooking with whatever currently is in season. In September, raspberries are plentiful. So, I made a blueberry muffin recipe, substituted raspberries and poured the batter into a cake pan.

It turned out UGLY. Cracked and crumbly. So, in an effort to cover up the cracks, I added the "6."

Also, remember? Thirty-seven kids! This cake would serve about 12 kids, so I also sent cupcakes. (Or, as we would call them, muffins. And then we would eat one for breakfast.)

And just for comparison's sake, here is the chocolate cake.

Which would you rather eat?