I have not been very good this spring about posting here. I will skip the prose and just post some images from the last weeks. Asher is into imitating dog barks, sucking on vacuum cleaner hoses (we are really discouraging that), and eating bacon off of Jackson’s plate. He has mastered raising holy hell at 1AM only to fall silent when he finds his bed of choice…ours.
Jackson is Jackson.
Albeit a skinnier version these past weeks.
Suddenly ravenous as his stomach is gets back on track.
Gratefully normalized with all bodily functions (oh all we take for granted)
His snack of choice on his new diet is hummus and rice cakes….and he is slowly turning into one.
We went fishing today. It was a beautiful spring day.
Jackson has a sidearmed cast that is pretty impressive.
He left the worms to me.
Jackson and I took Asher to his 18 month check up.
I am sure you remember yours.
There were no tootsie pops.
We took some pictures before the Dr. came in, while Asher was posing on the scale.
21 pounds.
Came back for a deep nap we all had a hard time waking up from, then lit the grill.
Tomorrow Jackson is going to Shabbat at school in the morning, his first time back in weeks.
We will all sing together.
Today Jackson was the Shabbat child at his pre-school. We were all so excited. I love when the most ordinary day is special. I photographed all the normal things this morning. Jackson waking up and getting dressed. Waking up his brother. Waking up Stephie. Them some flying off the bed. Breakfast. Knapsack. Strapped in the van going to school. Meeting up with his class. The light was beautiful. Jackson’s teachers are so special. I took pictures rather than fight back tears. Jackson giving thanks for airplanes and trains from the bima. Passing challah out to his classmates. Sharing the “Welcome” and “Inside” videos with his class. Stephie lighting the candles. Just a Friday morning. On fire. At one point, Jackson said, “The whole LANGE family is here.” We are a family by more than blood. We are a family in spirit.
Jackson is in the bathroom with the door closed. I am watching one of the playoff games in the den.
The door of the bathroom swings open. Jackson calls out from the bathroom, “Daddy, I don’t need privacy anymore. You can come here.” Jackson is sitting on the toilet looking up at me, ”Daddy I love you. And I love our home. And Daddy, I really like my name, Jackson.” Jackson is can now have any car he wants when he can drive.
It is funny the moment that Jackson decides to let something capture his imagination. A song. A person. An idea. This last weekend, he discovered The Beatle’s, “Twist and Shout” and could not let go. NOT the Shea Stadium screaming mayhem, but the controlled Ed Sullivan show lip sync with John Lennon singing lead, the barely contained half smile harmonies, and the long beautiful bow at the end. He made me put it on over and over again all weekend, and each time he heard the first note would yell out, “LET’S DANCE!”
Late last night, ten minutes before the end of watching, “Moneyball”, we heard Jackson making sounds upstairs. We had finally been awake long enough to watch a movie – and cuddled up on a cold winter night to do something so normal that we never get to do. So we paused the movie and I went up to find Jackson curled on the floor at the top of the steps. He looked up and said, “Daddy, I have been trying so hard to get back to sleep and I can’ do it.” Then his eyes welled up, and….I just scooped him up in my arms and held him so tight curled up inside my arms. Back in bed I told him how much I love being his Dad. How much I love seeing the world through his eyes – the way he looks out from the train windows, the way he is so excited seeing New York City when he first walks out of his favorite entrance from Penn Station – and especially hearing him sing so loudly every shabbat with his class. As I was whispering, Jackson didn’t say anything. He was already on his way back to sleep. I was just planting seeds….bulbs…that just hang out underground until it is time for them to poke up through the ground and grow.
Jackson and I have been talking about planting a hidden treasure in the backyard. What will go in that special box? What he doesn’t know yet, is that we are planting treasures for eachother all the time. When I am hitting a wall at work, I open one of Jackson’s treasures and it sets me free. One day, when Jackson is needing to feel loved, he can just open the door to last night and have all that love, like a coat over a puddle.
While I write here mostly about my own experience….a big part of that is Stephie. Stephie spreads so much joy, so much love - just by the sound of her voice, just by the trust she frees us all with to be who we are. Some mornings, when I get to sleep in, the first thing I hear is the boys and Stephie just so happy on the first floor. Dancing. Singing. Making breakfast She fills our pockets and hearts with so many secret treasures – we are filled up like the little Chinese brother who swallowed the sea.
This morning we are talking about Martin Luther King with Jackson. MLK is not Twist and Shout yet. Another seed waiting for it’s moment. Still, the house is filled with Nina Simone and Mahalia Jackson and we are thinking about a man who inspired us all.
All I can say about the first night of Chanukah is in this picture. Jackson with the menorah he made at school with glue and bolts.
