Parenting

October 29, 2012

When a Walk in the Park is Not a Walk in the Park

“A girl from school wrote that she was going to kill herself on Facebook.” Up until then, the leaves under our feet…

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October 22, 2012

“Daddy, I Want a Vodka Tonic Nooooooow!”: When Underage Kids Demand Alcohol

While attending a fancy-schmancy cocktail party before a big party, a gaggle of women wearing our prettiest dresses formed a loose circle…

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August 28, 2012

TechSupport Answers, Part Tres

The final part of a 3-part interview with my 13-year-old son….

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August 16, 2012

Tech Support Answers, Part Uno

Part one of the answers to the questions you gave to TechSupport. …

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August 14, 2012

Celebrating 13

Can you believe the little pisher is 13?…

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August 3, 2012

Mo-Mo-Mo. Hawk-Hawk-Hawk.

A lot of boys in my son’s summer camp were getting mohawk haircuts. He wanted one, too….

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August 1, 2012

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

I’m hoping you will follow me to the bonfire at Kludgy Mom’s blog where I’ll tell you about the first boy to gut my heart. …

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July 20, 2012

My Father’s Secret

My parents have always kept secrets, but this one was kind of a doozie. …

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July 18, 2012

What Do You Remember About Yearbook Day?

What do you remember about yearbook day? …

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Dr Brown's Cream Soda
Dr Brown’s Cream Soda (Photo credit: stevegarfield)

TechSupport was relaxing, drawing in his notebook to complete an assignment for his art class.

“Can I show you something?” my husband interjected. He used to be a pretty good artist back in the day. “I want to show you how to look at that can of soda and really see it.”

“I kind of just want to draw,” Tech said.

My husband pulled a chair over to the kitchen table where our son was sitting. “I just want to show you something,” he said. “Will you just look?”

Tech kept his eyes on his notebook. “I will.” His hands gripped his pencil tightly. “In a little while.”

I addressed my husband. “Not every moment has to be a teachable moment…”

My husband glared at me. “Don’t do that.” He held up one hand. “You’re always undermining me. I just want to show him something.”

Insulted, my husband pushed back from the table, scraped the chair’s legs against the hardwood floors, and he stormed off into another room.

Tech’s hand continued to move. He wasn’t really looking at his can of soda. He was just coloring.

“You know,” I said. “Instead of making a big stink, you could’ve just listened to what he wanted to say.”

Tech bit his lip and continued drawing.

After a while, Hubby reappeared. “Now can I show you something?”

I could feel how much my husband wanted to show our son what he knew. How he wanted our child to see the world differently. How he wanted him to see shadows and light. How he wanted him to see a different perspective.

Tech looked at me, then at his father. I could see he was biting the inside of his cheek.

I imagine he felt outnumbered.

There are always two of us, and only one of him. He tries so hard to please.

My husband started again. He showed our son how the eye can lie. How colors can be different, not uniform. How a brown can of soda isn’t really brown when you are drawing it. If you look, it is gray and maroon. Even orange in places.

“That’s all I wanted to show you,” my husband said with some degree of satisfaction.

After all, he got what he wanted.

“Thanks,” Tech said with a blend of gratitude and sarcasm in his voice.

My husband’s cell phone rang and he answered it.

And Tech continued to draw with his brown pencil.

Not gray, no maroon, no orange. He only used brown: a Good Son’s quiet act of defiance.

Tech’s completed drawing

What my husband didn’t know was that Tech and I had plans. We’d said that while he drew his picture of Dr. Brown’s Cream Soda, that I would write about the same topic.

I guess it didn’t go quite as planned.

Or maybe we all got it done in our own way.

Michel Foucault once wrote: “Where there is power there is also resistance.” Anyone experiencing any resistance lately?

“A girl from school wrote that she was going to kill herself on Facebook.”

Up until then, the leaves under our feet made swishy, dry sounds. But I stopped moving.

I needed to sit down, but he didn’t want to so I had to keep walking.

“She said goodbye and everything. I didn’t find out about it until after it happened.”

I held my breath as we passed the trees that had turned gold.

Tinker Park. Henrietta, New York. Fall 2012

“Is she okay?” I asked, praying hard for this girl who was suddenly with us like the wind in the trees.

“Her friends contacted her mother or something. She’s in the hospital.”

“Do you know her?” I shoved my hands in my pockets.

“Not really. I found out from a friend.”

We stopped at the water’s edge and found each other’s eyes.

“I want you to promise me something.”

My son looked at me. He knew what I was going to say. But I said it anyway.

“If someone threatens to hurt themselves or someone else on Facebook or in a text or in real life, you have to promise me that you will take it seriously.”

“I will.”

“No matter where I am. You have to contact me. I’ll help you do whatever we need to do.”

My son tilted his chin. “Sometimes you can’t answer your phone.”

He had me there. Because when I am teaching, I can’t take calls. Or answer texts.

The wind blew cool air though my sweater.

“You know what I mean. You can leave me a message. I can check messages. If there is an emergency, I can always make time.”

My son nodded.

The sun was going down as we turned down the mossy path.

As my feet moved, I thought about the girl’s mother. How terrified she had to be.

I thought of a car accident that occurred just a few miles down the road: how a young driver had been speeding through a residential neighborhood and smashed into a bus. They could have all been killed, but they weren’t.

I thought of my son who has been quiet lately. How we don’t connect the way we used to. How I don’t know what he does for most of his day. How he is going on a trip to New York City on a school field-trip in a few weeks.

I won’t be there.

And what if he needs me?

“Mom,” Tech called. He’d stopped to inspect something on the ground. “Come check out this bug carcass.”

I looked at my son. I thought he was going to say thank you. Or run over and hug me. Or tell me how glad he was that we had talked. I thought a lot of things. But he didn’t do or say any of the things he used to do and say so readily.

“Let me take a picture of you,” he said, holding out his hand for the camera.

So I posed for him.

“You okay?” he asked, a line creased his forehead.

I told him that I was fine, but it was a lie.

Because 8th graders shouldn’t be thinking about killing themselves.

They shouldn’t be thinking about dying.

Back at the car, we noticed our shadows.

“My shadow is taller than yours,” my son smiled. “I’m catching up to you.”

I looked at the red and the yellow and the green around me. I looked at my son in his maroon hoodie which will soon be too small for him. A gust blew some leaves off the trees. They soared over our heads and then fell on the grass, quivering.

I know time is passing, but is it so wrong to want things to stay like this for a little while longer?

I’m not ready for winter.

When is the last time you slowed down, unplugged and took a walk with someone you care about? Do me a favor, call someone you haven’t talked to in a while. Or write that person a letter. Do something to show someone you care about them today. What is one beautiful thing you can do to show someone they are important to you? Or (conversely), what do you wish someone would do or say to you today. Let me be that person.

tweet me @rasjacobson

Click to see more from Dave R. Farmer via WANA Commons

While attending a fancy-schmancy cocktail party before a big party, a gaggle of women wearing our prettiest dresses formed a loose circle to catch up. I stood closest to four women. We talked about apple picking and how a Trader Joe’s would soon be opening next door to our local TJ Maxx. We admired each other’s shoes and accessories, smiled and posed for pictures.

A stranger in a tight purple dress broke into our circle, and turned to one of the women I knew.

“Will you get me a drink?” Tight Purple Dress requested.

I wondered why she didn’t get her own drink.

And then I realized Tight Purple dress was Apple,* the 10th grade daughter of the woman she was addressing.

Let me tell you, Apple did not look like a fifteen-year-old girl.

Rather, she didn’t look like me when I was fifteen. When I was fifteen, I had frizzy hair and no boobs.

Apple had it goin’ on.

Apple’s mother shooed her away.

Because I am clueless, I didn’t know what the big deal was.

I figured if Apple was thirsty she could have a sip of my drink.

As I handed her my glass, Apple shot her mother a smug look. But after a quick swig, she pulled her mouth away from my drink with a frown.

“What is this?” Apple wrinkled up her face. “Sprite?”

“Ginger ale with lime.” I smiled, taking the glass back in my hands and jiggling it. “My signature drink.”

“I wanted…like, a vodka tonic or something.”

I shrugged and wiped her lipstick off the rim of my glass with a napkin.

Apple turned to her mother again.

“C’mon, mom. It’s a party.”

Apple’s mother turned her back to her daughter.

Good for her, I thought. She’s standing firm.

Meanwhile, Apple inserted herself into every conversation, asking every woman in the vicinity to please get her a drink from the bar.

The proposition was not enticing.

Photo from Sacks08 @ flickr.com

When Apple interrupted my conversation for the third time, I was pissed. Honestly, in that moment, I didn’t care if I made her feel less than.

I batted her away like an annoying little gnat. “Why don’t you go in the room with the DJ?” I suggested. “This is the adult cocktail hour.”

Undeterred, Apple flitted across the room where she found her father. I watched as he chatted it up with his buddies and, absently, handed his daughter his stubby glass filled with something.

I watched Apple polish off her father’s drink, and I tracked her as she made her way back toward her mother.

I figured she was sated.

Sucking on a piece of ice, Apple was relentless and started to beg again: “Mommy, will you get me a drink, now?”

Apple’s mother thrust her glass into her daughter’s manicured hand. “Take this and go!”

Women looked at their rings and adjusted their bracelets.

One woman caught Apple’s mother’s elbow. “What are you doing?”

“I’m doing what I need to do, so my kid will leave me alone and I can have a little fun.”

The circle broke apart then. Some women went to try the hors d’oeuvres that had been brought out; others went to find spouses. Some wandered toward the bathroom, ostensibly to check makeup.

And probably to chat about what had transpired.

I leaned against a wall, processing things.

When it comes to parenting, we do the best we can.

And raising children is not easy.

We all make decisions we wish that we could take back.

Meanwhile, I have watched this dance between Apple and her mother for a decade.

Photo from Roni Loren via WANA Commons

So where does this leave Apple?

Will she be a good Apple? Or rotten to the core?

Kids are programmed to test the limits set by the adults around them.

It’s their job.

But that’s when the adults in their lives are supposed to push them back and remind them where the boundaries are. You know, when they overstep.

So why do parents get stuck on the reminding about the limits part?

Because it’s not cool? Because it’s not fun? Because it’s exhausting?

Whatever.

Who cares if your kid hates you for a little while?

I don’t.

And Tech, if you are reading this if you suddenly feel the urge to drink something alcoholic while under the legal age, you probably shouldn’t come looking to your father. Or me.

But.

You can have as much ginger ale as you like. Bring your friends.

How would you react if your child asked you for alcohol in a public venue? Do you believe it is better to provide alcohol for your child (so you can oversee things) or that it is more important to uphold the law? Do you think Apple’s behavior is indicative of an emerging drinking problem or just harmless adolescent attention seeking? Am I over-reacting?

Tweet Me @rasjacobson

This is the final installment in a series of answers that my 13-year old son has provided to all the faboo readers & bloggers who responded to my request to give him the gift of questions for his 13th birthday. Because nothing screams happy birthday like the prospect of being a guest writer on your mother’s blog. I know you are all devastated. He is riveting. But he needs to go back to school. And hopefully this little exercise got him back into the mood. Either that or he’s now burned out before school has even started. Click on the links if you’s like to read Part Uno or Part Dos.

Tech Support 2012

We’re jumping right in again.

pattisj said:

I love the Big Bang Theory. Do you have a favorite character?

TS: I love Sheldon because his reactions to things make me laugh. Like how he over-reacts to everything. I also love his roommate contract Part C, Section IV. I intend to get a full copy of the agreement and use it in my real life.

• • •

Jami Gold asked:

What are some of your favorite book series?

TS: I like the Gone Series, The Hunger Games, and The Maze Runner.

• • •

e. rumsey asked:

What is your favorite fiction genre? What are some of your favorite movies? Do you think you’ll like playing with LEGOs your whole life, like I do? Have you been to a show on Broadway, if so, which one and did you like it?

My favorite fiction genre is science fiction. I loved the Hunger Games movie, Iron Man, Captain America, and I really want to see The Avengers. I don’t play with LEGOs very much anymore, but I have a strange urge to play with them now.

• • •

Jay Donovan @ jaytechdad

Here’s a math problem: Using only 3s & any operators you want to use, write a math equation that equals 100. If TechSupport wants some real homework, tell him to install VMWare Player on his computer, install Linux, and figure out how to build a web server or get his own Minecraft server running. Afterward, he can enter minion training. We can always use another minion.

TS: Hi Jay.

Here is my best attempt:

33 x 3 = 99.

99+3 = 102.

102 x 3 = 306

306 – 3 – 3 = 300

300/3=100. 😉

I didn’t use any help to figure that out.

But now I have a riddle for you.

You have 8 potatoes. You need to feed 20,000 people in a village of starving people, none of whom are willing to eat potatoes. How do you feed them?

I just got my own computer, and I am planning to host my own Minecraft server. I’ll send you the IP address, if you are interested. Are you interested?

• • •

Coleen Patrick asked:

What was your favorite part of your bar mitzvah (and least favorite)?

TS: My favorite part was at the after party, dancing with all of my friends. My least favorite part was when I had to light invite people up to light the candles because I don’t like being alone on stage. I get nervous when I am the center of attention.

• • •

Go Jules Go asked:

Your mom told us about the books that you collected, organized & donated for your bar mitzvah. Do you have any other projects like that that you’d like to do or are already working on? Do you have someone you look up to when it comes to doing charitable acts (someone famous or someone you know personally)?

TS: Hi Jules. I feel like I can call you Jules because my mom talks about you all the time. Plus I know you were on the phone together when I was at fencing once, and you guys talked so long that her car battery died. I don’t have any mitzvah projects in the works right now, but I’m always involved in some sort of project.

I don’t really have someone who I look up to with regard to charitable giving. {RASJ’s note: Really dude, really?!} The book thing was natural because I love books. I started it with my own initiative. I’m sure I’ll stumble into something else at some point.

• • •

JM Randolph asked:

If you had a blog, what nickname would you give your mom? And what was the single biggest thing that helped you prepare for your Bar Mitzvah?

TS: I would probably call her Super Writer. Wow, that’s pretty lame. I guess that’s why I don’t have a blog.

I think the biggest thing that helped me prepare for my bar mitzvah was starting to study for it long before I had to.

• • •

Larisa asked:

Take one of the questions that your mom answered over at The Byronic Man’s page and answer it yourself.

I chose #13. “Which superpower would you choose if you could: the ability to fly, or to turn invisible at will?”

Neither and yet both. I would like to possess the ability to use other people’s strengths. By this I mean, I’d like to be able to think of another person or thing and utilize their abilities as my own. They wouldn’t lose their powers or anything. I would just stay looking like myself – a mild, mannered boy — but I would secretly have any power that I desired at any time I desired it. Basically, I want everyone’s power. Is that creepy?

• • •

Rivki from Life in The Married Lane asked:

What’s the most difficult task you’ve tackled, and how did you feel about it before, during and after?

TS: If I had to say there was one challenge I had to overcome it would be my 7th grade social studies experience. My teacher was…um…he…um…let’s just say I had to do a lot of independent learning. Which meant a lot of boring textbook reading and Internet quizzes. My parents kept saying, “One day, you’ll see that this class has helped you understand how to be a better learner.”

I don’t think so.

• • •

Diana asked:

[My son] is almost ten and dying to be a tween. He loves computers and reading and writing. Can you suggest a few books or series for him to read, and any cool web games/programs. (He’s currently into Minecraft and making videos with Adobe Aftereffects.)

TS: Have him read The Hunger Games, The Maze Runner and Gone Series. I loved all 3 of them. If you’re on a Mac, try Dimp Animator and if you’re on a PC try Pivot. They are stick figure animators that I think are pretty cool. I really want the whole CS6 Suite, but my mom says it is too expensive. {RASJ’s note: I said he has to pay for it himself.} I guess I’m stuck with freeware right now. Hey, maybe I could come live with you for a while. I mean, you have Adobe Aftereffects. So you probably have the CS6 Suite, right? That would be cool. {RASJ’s note: Oh yes. Go live with people you don’t know. Whaaat?}

• • •

Nathan Young asked:

What are your favorite TV shows other than Big Bang Theory? Many geeks love animation so what are your favorite cartoons and comic books?

TS: Hi Nathan. I love MAD Magazine. It’s hilarious. When I get it, I lock myself in my room and read if from cover to cover. I also get Mac Life, but that’s not a comic book, obviously. I like a few weird TV shows like Adventure Time, which is totally wacky — but very entertaining.

I am so tired. I’m sorry you are the last person, but I have to stop now. Right now.

Here is a little bit of Adventure Time to enjoy while I am playing on my iPod resting.

So there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. That brings Tech’s riveting answers to your questions to a close. I think this assignment took him more hours than all of his 7th grade English assignments combined. Maybe I should make a suggestion to his soon-to-be 8th grade English teacher to have the kids start blogs. Or maybe I should just shut up and stay out of things. Which do you think I’m better at? What Tech? No, I’m just kidding. No, I’m not going to contact your teacher. Sheesh, son, can’t you take a joke?

Tweet this Twit @rasjacobson

NOTE from RASJ: So many people responded to my call to ask TechSupport questions, that his answers will show up in three parts! Thank you all so much for helping to defuzz his brain a little bit. And for allowing me more time to work on my book. Tech will respond to any and all responses. Please check out some of these great writers’ blogs. Especially if you have never heard of them before!

Tech Support 2012

Dear Everyone:

As many of you know, I went to overnight camp for 4 weeks this summer. Yes, I changed my underwear. And yes, I brushed my teeth. While I was away, a bunch of you wrote me advice and shared stories either about your experiences at summer camp or other funny stories. Thank you for those letters. Mail matters while you are at camp. I read the whole, thick bundle my mother brought on Visitor’s Day – including Penny’s multiple pages of The Places You’ll Go, which is one of my favorite Dr. Seuss stories.

{sarcasm on} Thank you also for the birthday questions. {sarcasm off}

I have never hoped no one would comment on my mother’s blog before.

Responding to your questions was time-consuming fun, and it helped me get into school mode.

I guess.

I hope you like my answers.

If you don’t, please take your complaints up with my mother.

After all, this was her idea.

Sincerely,

TechSupport

 • • •

Joan asked:

What are you doing on your actual birthday?

In the morning, I will wake up, play on my iPod for 30 minutes, play on the computer for an hour, eat breakfast, then play on my iPod until my Mom freaks out and tells me to get off the iPod or she will throw it out of a window.

I will then switch to the iPad.

• • •

Ricky Anderson asked:

Why does iTunes make four copies of every song I own?

I’m not quite sure why it does that, but I have this same problem. I have however found two solutions. TuneUp will fix incorrect song information, remove duplicates, and find missing album art. While the second option, Tagalicious, will not get rid of duplicates, the interface for finding missing album art and fixing song information is much more intuitive than TuneUp’s. Personally I recommend getting the free trials of each and finding which one you like best.

• • •

Nora of Together They Would Travel asked:

What do you think of rookiemag.com?

Rookiemag.com looks awesome… if you’re a girl.

• • •

georgettesullins asked:

Do you plan to return to camp next year and the next year?

Yes. Forever. And ever. I plan to be staff one day. Wouldn’t you want to see this every day?

Wouldn’t you want to go to here? • Photo by TechSupport 2012

• • •

Val of artyoldbird asked:

Allowing for the years when you probably couldn’t read, how many books have you so far read in your lifetime and what was your earliest favorite?

It’s funny you ask that because I keep track of every book I ever read in my life! So far, I have read 87,783 books. My earliest favorite was Goodnight, Moon!

• • •

Alex Jones of Liberated Way asked:

Can you survive without television and Facebook for a month?

Of course. Did you not see that this year I went away to sleepover camp for four weeks? Instead of being online, I played baseball and water-skied, went rock-climbing, participated in mass programs, and went to Arts & Crafts. It was no trouble being away from the Internet.

Mostly because I had no access to Wifi.

• • •

on thehomefrontandbeyond asked:

How can I sound up-to-date and savvy about tech stuff if I am not up-to-date and savvy & want to impress my tech savvy 21 year old?

The easiest way is to become savvy. Just look up some computing terms (like RAM or lossless compression) and learn their meanings. Then you will not only sound savvy, you’ll be savvy!

• • •

checkinoutlife asked:

What type of music do kids your age listen to? Can you tell me some of the bands you listen to? Do you listen to the same music as your friends?

Most kids my age are into music I don’t like that much, like rap or Justin Bieber. I don’t listen to the same music as (most) of my friends. Personally, I like dubstep, a kind of techno(ish) music. My favorite group who produces dubstep is Skrillex. Check it out. (Just skip the ad.)

Betsy K.W. gave me a killer bunch of research questions. She clobbered me wrote:

In the early 90s I worked for a company called Silicon Graphics which was founded by Jim Clark. What did he and his graduate students invent and where did they invent it (what university)? What industries used (use) this technology and what do they do with it (three examples, please)? What are two other companies that Jim Clark was chairman/founder of and what did the companies create? And a bonus question – When did Jim graduate high school and where did he go to college?

Jim Clark was an early computer geek who invented a geometry engine which is a hardware accelerator used to render images. He invented this in Silicon Valley in 1979 at Stanford University in California. People use this technology in computers, web-browsing and fast-rendering of 3-D images. Two other companies he helped develop were Silicon Graphics Inc. and Netscape. Netscape created a web-browser and Silicon Graphics created computer hardware. Clark was a high school dropout. He did go to Tulane University and eventually earned enough credits to go to University of New Orleans.

Assuming he’s still alive, I’m guessing he’s pretty rich.

Part dos is coming soon to a blog near you!

Tweet this Twit @rasjacobson

Tech’s 13th b’day cake • Yup, Kit-Kats & M&Ms & chocolate cake!

It should have been a day for parades and singing and whooping it up and flowers.

I was sure there would be balloons.

Instead there was a vacuum extractor.

It doesn’t surprise me that my son is as cautious as he is. His introduction to the world was of rough and tumble handling, of being ripped away, and I believe that it left its mark on him – though he knows none of the details.

In a hazy dream, I saw blood fill one of those pink plastic hospital basins and wondered: Whose blood could that be?

I am told that my son stopped breathing five times after he was born.

I think he innately senses that life is fragile, unpredictable and doesn’t always turn out as planned.

It was not in the birth plan for my uterus not to contract.

{Who knew I had a feisty uterus?}

It was not in the birth plan to lose so much blood. It was not in the birth plan to be rushed to away for an emergency hysterectomy.

Okay, so maybe I didn’t have a birth plan.

But I had plans.

I’d planned to go home with my newborn and revel in his newness. I’d planned to be up and around within 24 hours. I’d planned for people to marvel at us in the grocery store: “Up and around already?” they’d say.

I’d planned long, lazy, late summer walks with our fancy-schmancy new stroller. I’d planned to bring my son outside and show him the world, let him feel the August sun on his cheeks.

On my eighth day in the hospital, my OB-GYN stood beside my hospital bed.

And while a moyel read blessings and performed my son’s circumcision, my doctor sobbed.

What is it?” I asked. “You must have seen sixty-five bazillion of these.”

My doctor wiped her eyes and her mascara smeared over her nose.

I don’t know why I remember this, but I do.

“There was a point where I thought I was going to lose you both. I’m so happy you’re leaving the hospital as a family.”

And we did leave the hospital as a family.

{And we figured out how to get the $@%&! bucket in $@%&! carseat.}

And the sun went down and it came up again.

And thirteen years later, my husband and I have this fabulous son.

And I know it sounds all braggy and everything but he is incredibly smart, so we like to tease him how much smarter he might have been if he hadn’t lost all those brain cells in the NICU.

We are fortunate to be able to laugh about these things.

Because it could have ended in another, completely devastating way.

And now, as my ever-lengthening teenager heads out each morning, he still gives me a smooch — even in front of his friends.

He still thinks I’m cool.

{Sometimes.}

He still twirls my hair and tells me I’m pretty and that he’s glad I’m his mom.

{Right before he falls asleep.}

Who could ask for more?

I believe we will keep him.

Tonight he will eat something sweet.

We will push him up against the measuring door to see how much he has grown.

You know, on the outside.

People say 13 is an unlucky number.

But I feel so dang lucky.

And balloons or not, we celebrate his life every day.

Because why wouldn’t we?

What was the last thing you celebrated? Anyone else have a feisty uterus? Or a tough delivery?

TechSupport called while he was away at overnight camp.

I knew something had to be really wrong to get a phone call.

He had to be sick. Or dying. Or have head lice.

But no.

He called to ask permission to get a mohawk.

“It’s for the Fight Song. Can I do it?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said, knowing my husband always gives Tech a good brush-cut before school starts in September.

“Tell the director.” Tech said. “He needs to hear it from your lips.”

“Hi, Renée.” I heard the director smiling through the phone.

“It’s fine.” I laughed.

Imagine if your kid came back to you — after four weeks of being away — with this haircut:

How would you feel about that?

Also, if you like to vote, head over to Rob Shep’s awesome blog where he is hosting the 2nd Annual Blogging All Star Challenge, and vote for Team Ricky.

Right now, only 3 votes separate the two teams. This is tight people! I’m the chick in green — not the one with the mustache — in case you couldn’t tell. Wes Molebash didn’t know about my crazy curls. But boy did he create awesome caricatures of everyone.

Tweet this twit @rasjacobson

My 12-year old son recently shared his 7th grade yearbook with me, so I pulled out one of mine from a box in the basement.

As I flipped through, I remembered that in 1982, a guy named Tad* was a major theme.

“Who’s Tad?” Tech’s eyebrows arched.

“Just a boy I liked.”

My son saw people wishing me luck with Tad.

He also saw a disproportionate number of people leaving me ominous messages, warning me to be careful.

• • •

I’ve been wanting to share this story for a long time, and I’m excited to share the rest of it at Kludgy Mom‘s place!

Gigi is one of my most favorite bloggers, and back in May she asked a bunch us to imagine spending the entire summer at a remote cabin on the beach with a bunch of girlfriends. We were supposed to picture ourselves, in the evenings, gathered around a bonfire, maybe with a glass of wine, sharing in great conversation and the exchange of ideas.

I’m closing comments here today in hopes that you will follow me to the bonfire where I’ll tell you about the first boy to gut my heart.

Click here & meet me at the beach.

I’ll be waiting for you.

*Author’s Note: While this story is true, it should be noted that the guy I liked was not named Tad.

My dad, June 23, 2012

My parents took religious school education seriously. I was never allowed to miss a day for any after-school extra-curricular activities like roller skating parties, which always seemed to fall on the same afternoons as Hebrew School. My brother and I were expected to be proficient in Hebrew, and it was a given we would study extensively in preparation for our bar and bat mitzvah services.

The weekend prior to my son’s bar mitzvah, my mother-in-law pulled out some old pictures to show TechSupport. There was a sepia photograph of my father-in-law taken before his bar mitzvah over 60 years ago.

“And there’s your daddy.” My mother-in-law pointed to a photo of Hubby, who was quite the stud in his powder-blue jacket, plaid pants, and wide collar peach shirt à la1977.

That night, I called my father to see if there might be a photo of him somewhere. I’d never seen one, but my grandmother was before her time with the scrapbooking, so I wondered if maybe there was a picture buried in the basement somewhere.

“Well, you know…” my father took a deep breath. “I guess this is as good a time as any to tell you.”

I had no idea what he was going to say.

“I mean, now that you are an adult, you should probably know…”

My mind was spinning. Was he going to tell me that he wasn’t really Jewish?

My father hemmed and hawed and beat around the bush until I shouted into the receiver. “Dad, you’re killing me! Just say it!”

“I never had a bar mitzvah,” my father said quietly.

My brain couldn’t process this new information. It didn’t fit into any information it had been given before. I didn’t know any Jewish men my father’s age that had not had a bar mitzvah. Even men who have fallen out of the faith had stood on the bimah and chanted. Meanwhile, my father is a spiritual person. He follows the laws of the Torah. He is active in his synagogue. He loves Judaism. He loves Israel. He loves celebrating the Jewish holidays. He never had a bar mitzvah?

“What are you talking about?” I stood up from my chair to pace around our family room. “How is that even possible?”

“I grew up pretty poor. Back then people didn’t have parties like they do today, but there were get-togethers.” My father paused, and I imagined him flipping the corner of his crossword puzzle. “My parents and I talked it over, and we decided that I wouldn’t have one. Because, you know, we couldn’t afford a party or anything.”

“But you could have had a bar mitzvah and just not had a party, right?

“I suppose.” My father conceded. “But I didn’t want to embarrass my father.”

I asked why he had waited so long to tell me about not having a bar mitzvah.

I asked him if he had ever wished to have made his bar mitzvah.

I asked him if it was something he wanted to do now, at 74.

TechSupport overheard me giving my father the third degree, and told me to stop.

“Grampy goes to temple all the time.” Tech said. “He is a very honest, very humble and very good man. He lives his life by the Torah. I am pretty sure that G-d is good with him.”

I felt the tears catch in my eyes when my son spoke to me. He was right, and I am sure any rabbi would have offered the same words.

The Bar or Bat Mitzvah isn’t a mandatory rite of passage; by Jewish law, a boy reaches adulthood when he turns 13 and a girl at 12, no ceremony required. Some say the very lack of necessity makes the efforts even more remarkable as concrete, hard-won, and public affirmations of Jewish identity and commitment.

And yet.

My father became a bar mitzvah without pomp or circumstance. For him, becoming a bar mitzvah was a private experience, a continuation of the covenant between himself and G-d.

Who knew?

Ever been surprised by your child’s wisdom?

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Last year, a few days before school ended, Tech received his yearbook. A person involved in several extracurricular activities, he was frustrated when he only appeared in only one photograph – the same individual photograph that we had purchased earlier in the year. This appeared alphabetically amidst a sea of faces.

I tried to soothe my son’s bruised ego by pointing out how tiny the thumbnails were and how difficult it was to see anyone.

He shrugged.

“Anyway, the autographs are the best part!” I flipped through the pages of his book. “Did you get any?”

Tech’s 6th grade year book.

Tech turned to the back of his yearbook where I was surprised to see that kids did not write in sentences as my friends had when we were his age. Instead, they simply penned their names. To be fair, my son collected mainly boys’ signatures last year, so I wondered if maybe it was a gender thing: perhaps 6th grade boys were inclined to communicate their feelings in words less well than girls of the same age.

[For example, someone penned “FAGS,” instead of “HAGS” — an acronym for “Have A Good Summer” — causing one teacher to haul out smiley-face stickers to cover up his unfortunate and oft-repeated abbreviation.]

Later, a friend and I compared notes.  She has daughters, and I was curious to see if 6th grade girls did things differently, but no, I found very much the same kind of thing. Kids just signed their names, sans niceties. I was looking for some kind of: “It was nice meeting you this year”; or “Have a nice summer”; even “Your (sic) a grate (sic) kid.”

Most surprising was that three of my son’s teachers had elected to pre-print their names on Avery stickers. I understand it is tedious to write out one’s name 125 times, but pre-printed stickers? Really? Only the music teacher wrote my son a personal note and took the time to scribble out his signature in his own hand.

So I was interested to see how things would play-out a year later.

This year, on the last day of 7th grade, approximately 3.3 minutes before he had to walk out the house, Tech pulled his backpack over his shoulder and announced, “Oh, we got our yearbooks.”

He was out the door before I had a chance to ask him if he landed in any photographs besides the tiny thumbnail. That night, we flipped through his yearbook together. He was in a few extra pictures but the autographs had changed!

Tech’s 7th grade yearbook.

For the most part, the 7th grade boys are still pretty hapless.

But.

I did see several nice, handwritten notes from teachers recognizing Tech’s hard work this year.

Which was nice.

And I couldn’t help but notice a few more signatures by people with names that certainly sounded feminine.

And some of these notes were composed in actual sentences.

Someone with curly handwriting penned in purple ink:

“I can’t wait to see you when you come home from summer camp. Maybe we can hang out.”

Hmmmmm.

So I know my son has discovered girls, but does he realize that a few girls may have discovered him?

What do you see in your kids’ yearbooks? What do you remember about yearbook day?

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