Slow down, you move too fast

All of a sudden, I can feel time moving quickly. Phoebe is pulling herself up on everything in the apartment. She wants to walk so badly and it won't be long now before she does. She has two teeth now (we proudly call her Queen Two-Teefa") and more are ready to come at any moment. She is eating solid food and drinking water from a sippy cup and is beginning to know her power at how to rule our roost. The only way I can think to slow this moment down is to write about it, so when I'm onto another amazing phase, I'll be able to remember that this one existed. I'm happy to report that she is mostly sleeping through the night, which is so nice for her mother. It gives me the rest I need to run after her as she crawls/pulls/rolls herself across the apartment.

I had two "babyproofers" in this week to give me estimates. (a job that did not exist when we were children.) We grew up in a world without seat belts or helmets. One where our mothers smoked unabashedly in our faces and where safety for babies meant keeping an eye out and hoping for the best. We were lucky to have survived. These days, the babyproofers rule and for a small fee they can help your apartment turn from a snake pit into a soft-cornered, baby friendly play pen. I'm happy to sign up for the program. Anything I can do to keep my little dare devil as safe as possible. And since walking is just around the corner, I better get on it.

Gimme that old time religion

I have always had an uncomfortable relationship with religion. Especially my own. What did it mean to be a Jew in New York when I was not kosher, did not attend services and most importantly, did not believe in God as others have defined it in our culture. When I was little, I had a morbid fascination with the afterlife, imagining myself in my single bed, lying perfectly still, as if I was in a coffin six feet under. I envied my catholic friends who seemed to have it all figured out. When their Grandparents passed away, they were sure they were up in heaven dancing with the angels. Sadly, I did not buy it. I shared my confusion with my Mother, telling her I was not sure I believed there was one God looking over us all. She sagely told me that being Jewish, had nothing to do with believing in God. And for her that was true. For her, and there after, for me, being Jewish was about a shared culture and history, it was about food and family and tradition. It was about remembering that we are survivors and never forgetting that there are those in every millenium who have tried to do us harm, to wipe us off the map, to extinguish the threat we somehow pose to them.

When I was interviewed by Maureen Reichart, my social worker, for Phoebe's homestudy, she asked me what I thought Phoebe and I had in common coming from two very different cultures. I said that the Vietnamese people, very much like the Jews, had prevailed against threats from outside forces. They have never lost a war, beating the Chinese, the Mongolians, the French and the Americans. As a culture, they are survivors, just like us.

So it was with all these thoughts in my head that I decided to make Phoebe a proper Jew. I want us to share an identity. I want to be able to say, when she asks, "what are we?" that we are Jewish. I didn't want her to have to think about it any further. As far as I am concerned, she can be anything she wants in this life. (except maybe a Republican, that might break my heart :) She can follow the Buddhism of the Vietnamese people, be an Atheist, or a Hindu. But as as far as the Jewish powers that be are concerned, as of last week, she is as Jewish as an Orthodox Jew.

With the help of David Woolfe, my parents and I took Phoebe to a Mikvah in a small house on the South Shore of Long Island. I was nervous all day, and kept questioning whether I was doing the right thing. The Rabbi, Stanley Platek, welcomed us warmly and showed us into the small pool in the basement of the house. The water was warm as I carried in my daughter and listened to the Hebrew words being spoken. In three dunks and a prayer it was all over. Phoebe, who loves the water, didn't seem to mind very much at all. She stayed in my arms and didn't cry. She seemed fascinated by the people around her, as she always is, and took it all in. In less than fifteen minutes, we were done. The papers were signed, the blessings were given and Phoebe Horowitz is now a true Horowitz indeed.

A Family Affair

In the beginning of May, we took our first cross country trip out to LA to see the other half (or 2/3rds) of the Horowitz Clan.
The occasion was Chloe's Bat Mitzvah. My first niece, who was born just 2 months before I left for India was actually turning 13. As mind-bending as that is for all of us, to know Chloe is to know that she far surpassed everyone's expectations long ago.

I can't say I was thrilled to be traveling with the baby again. After the Hong Kong debacle, I was not looking forward to more plane travel. But I planned to spend ten days out there and in addition to seeing family, also made a plan to see Brooke and her family who just moved to San Diego and Stef who was going to fly in from SF. It was an ambitious plan, for sure, but I thought I'd be able to handle it all in stride. That was until I pulled my neck (maybe pinched a nerve or two) and began a long haul to recovery. It never crossed my mind to cancel the trip. I had so many people to see and so desperately wanted them all to see my gorgeous girl. Then the pain got worse, not better. It took a near intervention by Jeff, Carol and my parents to rethink my plan. It became clear that I was not going to be able to handle this 20 pound wonder on my own on a 6 hour flight. I needed help, and lots of it. Begrudgingly, and with sadness, I told my friends I was not going to make it to San Diego. (Stef had already changed her ticket twice. I felt really badly about that.) I also had to tell the family that I would be flying in for a quick visit; three days. Just enough time to see all the Bat Mitzvah activities.

I changed my ticket to fly out and back with Jeff. Honestly, without him, I have no idea how I could have done it all. I think that part of me felt I could do anything after the 20 hour trip home from Vietnam. That was until I hurt my neck. Then I needed help, and lots of it. I also needed to learn how to ask. No small task.

The weekend itself was a whirlwind of activity. Chloe was a stellar student of the Torah and made all of us very proud to be related to her. Her party was a wonder of LA style, impeccably planned and beautifully executed. Chloe honored me as someone special in her life by asking me to add a flower to her special vase. That was lovely moment. I took off my neck brace for the occasion and hugged her with abandon.

Phoebe had fun being passed around by friends and relatives. She was happy to see her Aunt Jane again and really took to Whitey too. It's so nice for me to see the bond growing between Jane and Phee. How cool it is that they will have each other in their lives.

I hope we'll be able to go back soon and spend some more time with our cousins, Aunts, Uncles and friends. Hopefully, my neck will continue to improve and soon enough I'll be back in my travelers groove.

My First Mother's Day

I can remember last Mother's Day when I had completed all my paperwork for an adoption from Vietnam, but I still seemed very, very far from becoming a mother. It was not yet my day to celebrate. Instead, Jeff and I had a lovely brunch at Cafe Luxembourg on the West side with our lovely mothers and the men they call their own. My impending motherhood hung in the air unmentioned. We were lucky enough to have our Mother's with us- and both in Manhattan at that. There was much to be grateful for. I had just completed a fundraiser for Room to Read to build a school in Vietnam in honor of that child who was yet to be born, but would someday be mine. Carol and I would soon be leaving for a sort of last hurrah trip to Istanbul and around Turkey. (Who could know it would be a last hurrah for both of us!) I was trying to be patient, trying to find a zen pathway through the halls of the waiting game. Breathe, breathe, I used to tell myself when the waiting would become unbearable. I knew it was completely out of my control. That didn't make it any easier.

Cut to 2008 and my Mother's Day was as wonderful as any I can imagine. Not only was my baby girl in my heart and in my home, she is thriving and charming everyone she meets. My day was made perfect by the people around me who helped me acknowledge what a lucky mother I really am. The day started with our favorite friend "Uncle" Dan showing up at 9am to relieve me from any Mother duties I might have. He's been helping out more since my neck went to pieces- making such a huge difference in our lives. At about 1pm, Jeff showed up with to help us stroll up to Grammy and Grampy's at the top of East End Avenue. There, we were joined by Lynn and John Birch (the other Grandparents) and Robin Rotenier and Erin Marcel. We had a yummy bagel brunch complete with cream herring and whitefish salad, lox, capers, and the always exceptional Borscht from Mom's kitchen. Phoebe rolled around on the floor and was happy to be picked up by anyone who was so inclined. She was a party champ, as always.

When we were all full to the gills, half the party went back to 180 Riverside Drive and Jeff and I strolled back home with a sleeping girl. Jeff took care of the bath, the bedtime and still had enough energy for a shoulder massage for the new (aching) Mommy. What a difference a year can make :)

It takes a Borough

The Woman who could well become our next President wrote a book famously titled, "It Takes a Village". Her premise being; a whole village raises a child. In my case, it may be a whole Borough and some of the outer boroughs too. One of the most incredible things that has happened to me since bringing Phoebe into my life is to see the amazing way people have rallied around me and this baby. The least likely people have become a part of Phoebe's inner circle. She is already blessed to have Grandparents up the block, and Aunt and Uncle across the street, an Auntie and her dog next store and a handsome guy named Jeff who answers to Dada these days. It must be said that his boyfriend skills are only exceeded by his parenting skills. He never tries to teach me anything, but I learn from him every time he's with us. (Phoebe and I are both very fond of him.)


But the surprising cadre of caring compatriots has come from the people I met volunteering at the Soup Kitchen on Monday nights. For the past three or so years, I have been spending most Monday evenings in the basement of All Souls Church (Unitarian- Love all serve all types :). I started volunteering at a low point in my life. I had spent years already trying to bring a child into my life, trying to get published, trying to live the dream of an New York writer, trying to be as successful as I had been in my earlier career in advertising. I heard a song one day whose lyrics said, "If you're feeling helpless, help someone." It's a fairly simple thought. I needed to stop wallowing in my defeats, I need to do something for someone other than myself.

The Monday night crowd is ever changing as volunteers come and go. But there is a core crew. Some work in the kitchen, cooking and prepping and washing dishes. The other group is out on the floor serving the over 200 guests who join us for a free meal. George Collins, who runs the program, is proud to tell new volunteers that we are the only Soup Kitchen in NYC that serves their meal "restaurant style" with table cloths and china and silverware. The same sets they use for Church functions. I always worked with the servers, preferring to be out on the floor chatting up the guests. There are regulars there too and over time, you get to know one another. It's a community in itself.

Many of the people who volunteered at the fundraiser to build Phoebe's school in Vietnam were from the serving crowd. These are people who are happy to put their hand up for a good cause, and they often do. Last Summer some of the Kitchen staff planned a picnic and invited some of the regulars from the Serving crew. Only 3 of us went, but it was the beginning of getting to know the Kitchen folk. Many of them have been friends for years and are well integrated into each other lives. They attend each others birthdays and charity functions and other events. They were all so excited for me when I revealed that I was adopting a baby from Vietnam. They became my cheerleaders. In fact, many people from inside and out of the kitchen at All Souls said they followed my blog when I was away and told others to read it too. Suddenly, there was this wave of good energy coming my way from people I had really only just gotten to know.

It was there I met Dan (a kitchen guy) and Candice (a server gal) , who have become two of Phoebe's favorite people. They offer their time to us and relieve this single mom for a precious few hours or an evening. Jessica and Priscilla have come by too and Annie who stopped by one Sunday after Church. The gratitude I feel towards these people cannot be measured- certainly not by conventional means. In the last couple of weeks, I had a stomach bug and two pinched nerves in my neck. It is the single scariest thing as a new mom and a single mom, to be sick when you have a new baby. No matter how much help you have, in the end of the day this little person only has you to count on and you want to be as healthy as you can be. You want to be there for her. But when life eventually gets the best of you and your digestive system, you have to learn how to ask for help. I'm learning. These amazing people in my life make it easier, but it is still hard to ask. You don't want to impose, ask too much, be too needy...

I do feel fortunate that Phoebe is such a good, socially adorable being. She is fun to be around. She's so responsive. You get back as much as you give. It helps us in the babysitting department :)

I have been lucky to also find a wonderful part-time babysitter who gives me some help during the week. Antonia is smart and engaging and Phoebe loves her. I have already seen a few caregivers come and go and I know that it is always fluid when it comes to hiring help, but right now, we are starting to find our groove. Phoebe is teething these days, but she is sleeping better than ever. I'm sleeping more too and realizing I have a network of people to help me raise this beauty. I may even get back to my writing and posting more often. Slowly, slowly, it feels like I'm getting the hang of this child raising thing. But yes, It takes a borough, indeed.

Phoeb-a-licious

Candice, one of Phoebe's many admirers, was over today hanging out and giving me a much needed break. (My baby sitter flaked again, but child care issues are another post, another day...) When I got back, she said to me, "Phoebe has a hundred different kinds of smiles"

and boy, is that true. People often ask me if she's really this smiley all the time, and the answer is generally, yes. Like all of us, she has her cranky moments. There's the wet diaper and the overtired whine, the grimace whilst getting another spoonful of oatmeal shoved into her mouth. But for the most part, Phoebe loves to smile and laugh and giggle when you tickle her tummy or feet. She particularly likes to see herself in the mirror, always giving her reflection a big grin as if to say- wow, I AM cute! It is particularly wonderful to be one of the people she recognizes and knows. She always has a big smile for her grandparents, breaks out in a cheerful scream when she sees Jeff and nearly jumps up and down when Debbie stops by from next door. It's a fact, Phoebe loves to smile. Can she love it as much as we all do?

The Power of the Phoebe

They come from near and far to see her. She is quite a wonder to behold, that is true. But I think it's what she brings out in others that is so amazing. They can't help but be happy. They smile without thinking about it. They are soon silly and singing and sometimes, no, quite often, there is dancing. She's like a drug that way. Friends have been known to stop by and see her after they have had a hard day. Kids in particular have been drawn to her. We have had so many wonderful visitors. Many of them between 6 and 12 years old. It made me so happy to see her held by Emily Greenberg and Carly Lieberman and Ruby FIne and Alex Nadel. I thought of these girls as an American version of what she had back in the Vinh Phuc orphanage. Every day, I was told, older girls from the Orphanage would come to see the babies after school. They would play with them and think of them as little siblings. I can not imagine how sad they must have been to see Phoebe go to a new home so far away. The girls here who have come to visit (and lots of boys too) seem so taken with her, it's lovely. Tomas Greenberg said, "if she had a super power it would be to make people happy." He's 8. That's a pretty good review from an 8 year old boy.

Perhaps her early interaction with so many different people is one reason why Phoebe is such a social animal, a true party girl. What I have learned about her in these few months is that she thrives on people, it's what makes her happy. This past Sunday, her fabulous Grandparents hosted 40 odd people in their home to celebrate and welcome their new Grandchild. Many of their old friends were there, people who have watched me grow up and come to this moment. My father got choked up before he even started to address the crowd. His words about me and Phoebe were so touching. Not a dry eye in the house. David Woolfe performed a lovely ceremony, honoring her entry into the Jewish world and into my special family. Jane came into town for the occasion. She says she has a special kinship with this child, that they both came into our family in the same way. How lucky Phoebe is to have Jane for an Aunt. A true circle of the family is being completed. The power of the Phoebe was seen all over that party. She charmed everyone, laughed and smiled on cue, then crashed hard when we finally got home. I practically had to wrestle her down from the high of that party.

When James Worner showed up last week from Sydney, I knew Phoebe's power was real. When Alana started talking about moving back to New York, I knew that this child had a magnetism few could match. Lucky me, I get to be with her everyday. And even if I'm sleepless, if I hardly have time to write, if I have new aches and pains from being a new Mom, she makes it all worth it. Just one smile and it's all good.