And Then

And then Leo stepped off the curb.

I reached for him, grabbed his arm. I pulled him back and then

I jumped in front of the car to push it away from him.

And then I thought:  it's okay that I have my hands pressed into the grill. when I hit the pavement bones and muscles might give way.  A second birth.  And then

I screamed, My Baby, My Baby, My Baby.

His nose was bleeding, he cried.

I shouted, Leo too? The car, Leo too?  (In broken Hungarian)

I knew the car hit me (or I hit the car). I wanted to know if the car hit Leo.

No one could say. Or would say.

I sat on the curb. Leo sat upright in my lap, heart to heart. His blood soaked my shirt.

I reached for Iza.  She came and stood next to my, stroking my back.  She took care of me. (That's not her job.) She never cried.

Later a witness said the car's front tire hit Leo in the head.

And then the ambulance came. The police.

There was no fault. Except mine, of course. I am the mother.

It is my job to keep them alive, 
at minimum.

The driver:  a young man in a suit. Two other young men in the car, wearing suits. I didn't say a word to them. I wish I would've told them they weren't to blame.
I worry about them too.

People rushed to the scene:  A woman with a child on her hip, a nurse from high school next door, several men. There was shouting and silence. Someone offered me water. 
I refused, but then directed them to pour it over Leo's finger.  It poured over his raw flesh. Iza quickly pointed out that the water was spilling. This part of the story she always repeats, 
when the water spilled.

I took Leo's finger, his right index finger, bloodied, and put it in my mouth.  
I sucked it clean. I was calm.

In the ambulance they bandaged my scrapes, but never examined me. They felt Leo's head, but never took off his shoes or clothes to look for wounds.  Later I will see his elbow is scraped raw.

And then, sitting in the ambulance, the police asked my name.  Janet Kelley, or Kelley Janet?  (In Hungarian they say the family name first.)  Birthdate?  11/18 or 18/11?  (In Hungary they offer the day first, then the month.)  In my head I shout:  absurdity!  who the fuck cares!  Drive us to an x-ray machine!

Laszlo had left that morning for Zurich.  I had no cash, no phone (it was in the apartment), and no passport.  I didn't know our street address.  I knew the street, but not the house number.

And then the ambulance was driving quietly, sedately through tree-lined Budapest avenues toward a hospital.  Leo fell asleep in my arms.  I checked to see he was breathing.  

The x-ray technician was hostile, to say the least.  She wanted me to hold Leo a certain way and I didn't understand.  And then when I did understand, I tried to say I couldn't hold his face that way because my hand was in pain. Her response, if you don't do it we can't take the x-ray.  

So what is a little more pain?

The x-ray showed no damage to the bone. And they released us. We took a taxi home, no car seats.

The accident happened at noon. We were home by two.

And then, lunch as usual.

And then

I pulled Leo back. I felt him slip from my grasp. 
I jumped in front of the car. You know, to stop it.

I walked away. Leo walked away.

Izabella watched the entire event from the curb. This terrifies me.

And then, again, Iza asks, "Do you wanna tell about it?  Accident?  When the car came?"

I am convinced the car didn’t hit Leo.  I am sure his head injury was caused when I pulled him back and he fell down on the street.

I almost wish I had a broken bone.

And then I was waiting in front of the nursery's large wooden door on a narrow street in Budapest, close to the castle. It was noon. Clear, sunny fall day. The children raced down the sidewalk as they returned from the park. I was there to pick up Iza and Leo. It was their third morning in the nursery. I brought them at ten and then 
was supposed to return at noon.  Two hours. And then

a woman in a car was waving hello (or asking if she could park?) and

then we were all saying hellos--six kids, two teachers, and myself.  
And I hugged and kissed my kids

and then there was small talk or not and hungry kids ready to go inside to lunch and naps and then

Leo stepped off the curb.

"Do you wanna talk about it? Accident?"

Yes, I do. As many times as you do, Iza. And then

again.

Thursday

Iza, we need to wash your hair.

Can we do it on Tuesday?

Iza, let's get dressed so we can go to the park.

In two minutes, mama.

Iza, can you find your shoes?

No rush, mama.  Take your time.

Spring Blossoms

The kids are kids now, not babies.

How is this threshold defined?  They still nurse, both of them.  So that is not entirely part of the definition.  Our nursing days are numbered, however.

An important milestone is definitely their enrollment in ovoda, in our case this means a family daycare in Budapest.  We have opted to send them both three mornings a week.  I stayed one morning with them and they have spent one morning without me.

I don't think that preschool is necessary and my motivation for sending them is twofold:  1) mama needs time sans kids and 2) we want them to be immersed in a Hungarian language experience.  

New Numbers

Izabella

Ht In
38.3

Wt Lb
30.5

BP
99/68

Lenard

Ht In
33.5

Wt Lb
24

Snow Day Notes

Leo, 18-months:

has discovered a new word:  MINE!

will climb onto the dining room table in the time it takes to go to the kitchen and retrieve the butter.

is beautiful.

loves to read Brown Bear or anything Iza happens to be reading.

has yet to have his first hair cut.  (Well, I did take pity on him and trim his bangs while we were in Kansas for Christmas.)

desperately needs a hair cut.

likes broccoli.

is not a fan of playing in the snow.

has decided that pigs are called "Lalalas" because of the book "Moo Baa Lalala."  has adopted a tiny pink pig as his bedtime "Lalala."  sadly this is Iza's little pig.  this causes much sadness and confusion.  for both of them.

has his own word for nursing:  mama.

is currently being night-weaned.  is not happy about that, but is learning.

has never slept through the night.  One time (last week) he slept from 8 pm to 5:30 am.  Usually he sleeps for three hours before he wakes the first time.  He is up at least three or four times a night.

has eyes that still amaze me.

rarely stops moving.

currently is exploring what happens when he shoves Izabella.  he is over the hair-pulling thing, mostly.

starts biting when he is tired.  or trying to bite me.  he is not being mean.  it is a playful nip, but still.



Izabella, three-years-old next month:

loves a good party.

hates to have her hair washed.

went to see her first theater performance:  The Berenstain Bears at the Jewish Community Center.  She was rapt for the entire show lasting almost an hour.  (Leo slept through it, thankfully).

still loves blue cheese, brie cheese, and goat cheese.

likes to pretend that she is going on a trip to New York City.  she packs her monkey backpack with snacks, books, and a bottle of water.

loves to watch "Kids" = Sesame Street on TV.

is extremely tolerant of her little brother. most of the time.

enjoys "Taking Care" of her baby dolls and stuffed animals.

loves to play in the snow. 

understands Hungarian. Speaks Hunglish.

often requests to wear her party dress so that she can twirl.

is observant.

is ready for a big-girl bed.

likes to stick out her "beautiful tummy" and rub it.

makes my heart ache when I put her to sleep and she requests one more ABC or Twinkle Twinkle.

has gorgeous long hair.

currently loves to paint.  our dining room table has been transformed into an art center.

attended her first dance class today.  moms are asked to stay in the waiting area.  the class was an hour-and-half long.  she says that she wants to go back next time.

December Notes

Thanksgiving was a modest affair. A turkey breast, butternut squash puree, cranberry sauce, and homemade bread. The pumpkin pie was a tart, defrosted and my cream had gone rancid.

We used candles. And a tablecloth. It was lovely.

It was just me and the kidlets this year. No husband, no extended family, no friends.

Strange. Not exactly Thanksgiving. But nice. Quiet. Low-key.

November Rain

Well, actually it is hail.

The kids are asleep, for now, and the husband is driving my stepson home.

The house is quiet. (Well, except for the sound of hail.)

A glass of red wine, for my heart.

It is November. Daylight Savings time as arrived. It is dark by 4, almost. This means the afternoon after the nap will be long and often housebound. Winter. Time to order snowsuits for mornings in the park and schedule play dates inside for the afternoon. This will be the winter with two mobile toddlers.

We are now accepting applications for house guests. Extended stays welcome. Grandmas given first priority. Anyone who enjoys food-flinging, splashing in the tub, getting down on the floor, giving airplane rides, and/or preparing hot meals will be considered closely.

The hail has finished.

Now, where are my wool socks?

Grow by Numbers

Izabella

2 years, 8 months

37 inches tall

30 pounds heavy

20 inches around her head

Leo

1 year, 3 months

31.5 inches tall

22 pounds 4.5 ounces heavy

20 inches around his head

Fall

September is here. At last. And with the sudden appearance of leaves on the ground and a bite in the air comes some changes in our household.

Nagymama is coming for a two-month visit. It will be her first visit since our wedding and the first time she gets to meet Leo. I took baby Izabella to see her when Iza was only 5-months-old and we haven't seen her since!

We are also changing our care-giver. A new housekeeper/nanny will join us. Luckily our current employee will stay nearby, literally only a few blocks away. She will be able to visit the kids and spend time with them. I am grateful for that.

Slowly, slowly I am emerging from the chrysalsis of new-mommydom. These wings are sticky wet and tightly furled. Give me, oh say, another two years to stretch them taut. And then I'll need years for them to dry. And then I'll learn to fly.

Milestones

Ms. Izabiza opens the bathroom door, sets her Elmo potty seat on the big potty, climbs the stool, turns around and seats herself. Thank you very much. And she tells Mama and brother Leo to stay out.

She requests "Hallelujah" (by Leonard Cohen).

Leo and Izabella can now walk all the way from our local ice-cream parlor, Freeze, to our favorite park, Lincoln Park. Tata holds Izabella's hand and she holds Leo's hand. The distance is approximately .35 miles. That is a lot of steps when your legs are only about 15 inches long!

We are in the second week of letting Iza go diaper-free as she learns to use only the potty. She still uses a diaper for nap and bedtime. It takes courage to let your little one out and about in public without a diaper. Beside a tiny little dribble on the Starbuck's floor (the bathroom was occupied!), she hasn't had accidents. Luckily the summer weather allows me to put a dress on her. She can pull it up herself when she needs to visit the potty. Today I taught her how to put on her little undies. The little bow goes just beneath her belly button.

Leo can climb and run. I can still run faster than him. These days are numbered.

He imitates Iza constantly. Certainly Iza learned from her peers, but Leo's drive to imitate his sister is incredibly strong. Despite their 17-month-age difference, this is little that separates their physical ability--except the difference in height and thus reach. He wants to go where she goes, eat what she eats, drink what she drinks. He even sits on the potty and reads a book, just like sister.

Izabella's hair is long and thick and slightly curly and completely out of control. Tata is in charge of washing it and giving her a blow dry. She hates the rinsing, but loves to have it dried.

As much I loved the baby stage, I think I will love the two kids stage even more. The potential for fun is greater. They are little entertainers--especially Leo.

Still tandem nursing. Iza only nurses once, maybe twice a day. Leo still loves to nurse a lot at night.

Now, if only they would sleep.