A Family Vacation

A family unit is a strange and wonderous organism. We don't get to choose our families, but they are ours. My experience of growing up in my family was sweet, fun and comforting for me. I had the confidence stability and love brings and always felt surrounded by luck and good fortune. I was only 13 or 14 when my sister left for college and my brother was off the following year. Neither of them ever returned to live with us, not even for the summers. My sister got married right out of school and my brother went onto Law School in D.C. then to jobs in L.A. It was and really has been, just me and my parents for a very long time. We all got together regularly for holidays and special occasions, but that feeling of a family of people surrounding you, was lost to me for sometime. Twenty-odd years later, enter Jeff. One of four siblings and New York based parents, my life now feels filled with a plethora of new family members. There are lots of children and cousins abound and they love to get together and have a good time while they are at it.

One truly amazing by-product of my union with Jeff is that our parents have become very fond of one-another. They are all about the same age, love NYC and are cultured, well-read, card-carrying liberal city dwellers. Jeff's Mom and Step-dad Jonfer live at 180 Riverside Blvd. overlooking the Hudson and my parents live at 180 East End Avenue overlooking the East River. They are a perfect compliment to eachother. Phoebe is so very lucky to have two sets of grandfolks in New York and I feel nothing but gratitude to have them all nearby.

So what a pleasure it was to spend July 4th week up at our place in Vermont with Lynn, John, Jeff, Michael and my parents. It rained all week. I was down with various stomach aliments, and yet, it was all good. I had so many hands on deck to help while I was feeling ridiculously ill. My man stepped up, as he always does, and took Phoebe off my hands on more than one occasion. I was surrounded by family. It is certainly a different kind of family than I grew up with, and it's nothing like what I might have expected to find when I got to adulthood, but it is a beautiful surprise. We may have been there celebrating Independence Day, but it is our dependance on one another that really marked the holiday for me.

Nanny Dramas

A good babysitter is hard to find. In the year and a half Antonia was working with me and Phoebe, she was often hard to find. She had a cell phone she would put minutes on, then not have enough money to renew the card. She was evicted from the first place she lived, and I never knew her next address– only that it was a basement apartment that was moldy and rodent infested and landed her asthmatic child in the hospital more than once. Antonia had it hard. A single mother of two, an illegal alien from Trinidad, a struggling 7th Day adventist who tried to put her trust in God every day and for 10 hours on a Saturday church pew. But for all her troubles and failings, she was wonderful with Phoebe. I often envied how she could make her giggle. Those two were always laughing and dancing and singing. Antonia is also an incredible cook. Because of her, Phoebe eats everything from spicy spinach to garlicky daal.

Then one day, she just didn't show up. And not the next day or the day after. She literally disappeared. I could not reach her on the phone she did not have. No one knew what might have happened to her. Her Aunt works for family friends of mine, and they had no word on her at all. I thought she might have been deported, or that something may have happened to her or her children. We had been so intertwined for more than a year of Phoebe's life, I couldn't help but be worried. Then a few days after the disappearance, one nanny in the building said she heard from Antonia. She told the woman that she had fallen into a depression and could not call me. Then after days of not getting in touch, she was too ashamed to call. Depression is an illness for the moneyed classes. If you are poor you won't get medication or therapy, or perhaps even understanding from those around you. You either deal with it, or you can't. How very sad.

Phoebe still asks for "Toni" every now and then. I just tell her she's gone home and leave it at that. She was not the easiest person to deal with. We had our conflicts and troubles as most people have with someone who works in their home. As professional and detached as you want to be, when someone is caring for your child, when they are in your apartment all day long, a very different employer/employee relationship emerges. I tried to strike a balance between compassion and detachment. No small task. Antonia had all the odds against her. But she was wonderful to my child and we will miss so many things about her.

These days, I'm in transition. I am struggling with a new combination of people and more time with Phoebe. I get to save some money and have more time with my amazing child, but I am exhausted. Every mother needs help one way or another. I'm just trying to find the right balance and the right people to place around my precious girl. Hopefully, I'll get there.

Officially Phoebe

On Friday, May 22nd, 2009, Phoebe sat on my lap in front of a New York City judge for the signing of her official re-adoption papers. This is mainly a formality. Phoebe has been officially my daughter for all but 4 months of her life. She became a U.S. citizen when she stepped foot in the country on February 1, 2008. (Her certificate signed by George W. Bush who actually managed to spell his name right :) What this procedure does is give us a U.S. birth certificate with her American name: Phoebe Ellis Horowitz. For a girl with a Vietnamese name and a Hebrew name, this one matters most. It will make her entry into school as seamless as any other kid. She is a real New Yorker now and not just because she likes pickles and Herring and bagels. All four Grandparents and our lawyer, Cliff Greenberg were on hand to share the moment with us, as well as Phoebe's favorite companion, Bunny Rosen. We celebrated with, what else? Bagels after the ceremony.

Mother's Day 2

We spent a lovely Mother's Day at the Birch residence on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. With sweeping views of the Hudson River, Jeff's Mom's place is the perfect compliment to my Mom's view of the East River. How lucky Phoebe is to have both in her visual lexicon. And commuting just across town for Mother's day is a treat anyone who ever had to schelp to Long Island or the surrounding boroughs knows all too well. Just a few of the reasons I felt so very lucky on this Mother's Day. Not only do I have an adorable daughter, a handsome man who gave me the best present of taking Phoebe out all morning and letting me sleep in, but we were able to share this day with two Grandmas. Grammy Eastside and Grandma Westside :) I briefly felt a bit of melancholy with the knowledge that these amazing Grandmas won't last forever. This moment is so precious to me that I want to just drink it in and appreciate every minute that I get to be a Mom with my Mom so close by. Jeff's Mom is a beautiful bonus to all this and we're so happy to have her in our lives. So here's to the Moms and the Grandmas too. The day was ours to celebrate with 3 lovely men who shared it with us; Jeff, Dad and Jonfer. How very fortunate we are.

Little Mad Hatter

It's a fact that has proven itself in a new generation: all Horowitz's look good in hats. It could be a baseball hat, a cap, a cowboy or fedora, but Phoebe sure fits the mold. Like her favorite Grandpa- whom she loving calls "Bob," that girl can rock a hat of any shape size or color. A few items of evidence are submitted here for your viewing pleasure.

Yes! No!

At 19 months, Phoebe has entered the stage where she has eyes beyond her abilities. She can run- pretty fast- especially down our long hallway and in the park. She now can climb unaided onto the couch and the dining room chairs with a "Yes I can!" attitude. She mostly wants to feed herself these days, a messy proposition, but one that fills her with pride when a spoonful of applesauce makes it all the way from the bowl to her mouth. I can see a willful streak coming my way and a glimpse of a terrible two year old who will soon inhabit my apartment. It usually comes with a forceful "NO!" when asked to sit down on that chair she's just climbed, or to drink her milk or water. This little lady does not want to be told what to do and it's always a rude awakening for her when she does not get her way. I'm happy to report that she still says 'please' and 'thank you' in sign-language, when prompted by her annoying mother. She is getting great at giving hugs and kisses and says hello to nearly everyone she passes on the street bringing smiles to doormen and postmen and old ladies alike. Phoebe is full of life with no shortage of passion for the world we encounter everyday. Yes! I adore her and NO! I won't ever stop feeling that way.

One smart cookie

Jeff says, the first few years of your kid's life, you are trying to get them to stand up and speak out- then you spend the rest of their lives trying to get them to sit down and shut up. While, that may be the case, I am completely enjoying these precious days of watching Phoebe learn her words and figure out how they work. She knows how to say "Bubble" and "Bottle" and "Button" and "Fish". Then there's "Elbow", "Apple" and "Elmo". We know she loves to call the ones she loves Daddy- but she also likes to call both Grammy and Grampy "Bob". She now knows the difference between "Hat" and "Hot" (one goes on your head which she will happily show you.) She likes to kick her "Ball" and put on her "Shoes" and "Socks" before doing so. She even still has a fondness for "trumpet"- the one that hangs on our wall was her first official word.

Her vocabulary has been helped by some sign language. She can sign "more" and "all done", "Please and thank you" (which is nice) also "Help" and "ouch" and "Clean up" and "diaper" and "change" too. But my favorite has to be "cookie". She already knows her Grammy's chocolate chip cookies are the best in the world.

It is truly amazing how much she understands and how she can use the words she knows to make herself understood most of the time. Next week, my cutie pie turns 18 months old. At only a year-and-a-half, she already has me fascinated with everything she has to say.