Peter Pan

 Earlier this month, after two months of dedicated practice, Amara and her peers at the Pinole Youth Actor's group put on a performance of Peter Pan. Amara's role was small but her presence was large! 

 Amara did a fantastic job as both a star and a fish and sang all her lines perfectly.  

Initially, Amara wanted to quit after a few classes. After we discussed the importance of following through with something she agreed to move forward (that her buddy Juliet was in the class too helped) and over time her hesitation over being on stage gave way to excitement and anticipation.

The group performed the play six times, which seemed a lot for little people but Amara and her younger peers did an outstanding. Our family loved the play. Now, Amara is looking forward to joining the Spring session. Bravo Amara! 

With Juliet, her buddy since Kindergarten. 

Christmas Holidays

 I have very mixed feelings about Christmas. I could never accept or understand what shopping, lights on houses, trees and eating ham had to do with the birth of Jesus. I have tried to let that go and over the years my feelings about it ebb and flow. What seems to have worked in the letting go of my (angry) feelings about what I judge as hypocritical (yes, I cop to the fact that I am judgmental around this) is our families annual ritual of putting up a tree with ornaments that have sentimental value. I view the tree as a symbol of the winter solstice which is a time that welcomes introspection and reflection. And I strongly suspect that the early church founders adopted the Christmas tree from pagan fellows, just as they adopted many of their rituals. I am more at ease knowing parts of the Christmas traditions stem from earthly origins.

A couple of years ago, I found myself enjoying setting up the tree. When our family brings out our ornaments, we think back to where we were when we made or purchased it. This has led to us to remember family holidays or times with family that live far away. Don and I get sentimental that our young children are growing too fast. It is a sweet ritual and one I am at peace with during the Christmas holiday season.

This year, with the girls a bit older and able to comprehend things more, I talked about the importance of story as teacher and that the story of Christmas or the story of Christ- birth, death, rebirth- is an important one. Our family (or at least I) have different views of birth, death and rebirth but they are not that different than the story of Christ. One can find similar stories throughout many other religions and these stories are important aspects of life. Which is why this year, I talked with my daughters about these cycles of life. 

And, I have to admit, I take pleasure in the girls getting gifts. It's the perfect time to replace outgrown clothing, get new toys and crafts (and purge the old, worn out ones) and to get things that are just plain fun. I have long educated the girls on the real origins of St. Nick (Santa Claus) (he was from Turkey) and while they do think some magical being brings them presents (and I don't love that idea), I do like the idea that Christmas encourages magical thinking. There is nothing quite like the power of believing. 

So it was with all of these feelings that our family celebrated yet another Christmas. As someone who grew up Jewish, I have had these feelings all my life. It's a bit odd to celebrate it as an adult but the kids do delight in the magic of it all so for now we will keep going with celebrating Christmas.

What better book to buy a little girl who asks dozens of questions a day?!

We bought Papa some things in Argentina that we presented Christmas morning.

                                    

                                                               

Book Worm

Amara loves to read. She asked us to teach her how to read at just four years old (you can read about that  here: http://twosmallgems.blogspot.com/2012/04/learning-to-read.html.)  At seven and a half Amara is reading chapter books that are up to a couple of hundred pages long. She's only half way through Second grade. It's amazing. The down side to her voracious reading is that she frequently does not know vocabulary or context. So she asks Don and I what words mean and what a scene means in the story. It's all part of her learning curve however and we are are mindful to let her pick books that are fairly age appropriate.  The one other down side, which is really something quite amusing, is that that Amara asks us numerous times throughout a book, "Guess which page I am on?" or "Guess what chapter I am on?" So at page 53 she will ask and then again and page 72 and then again at 95...and so on. It can get a bit tedious but the fact that she is so proud of reading as much as she is, is actually a joy to watch. Some of my favorite moments with my girl are when we are laying in bed together, each reading our own book (until she interrupts me with her "Guess what page I am on?" questions!!) and just recently I taught her how to read a book in the bathtub without getting the book wet. These are the moments that I cherish the most; watching my girl enjoy a good story through written word. Life is good.

A Gelty Chanukah

Lighting the menorah

It seems we have a new tradition with Chanukah. This year we once again joined Don's niece Jenny, her husband David and the girl's cousin's Ben and Theo for what was our third year celebrating Chanukah. We had a lovely evening lightening the menorah, exchanging gifts (for kids only)  and enjoying a yummy meal of homemade latkes (Jenny's are off the hook) and matzo ball soup (mine didn't come out too bad!) And after all that was the gelt. Lots of gelt! (Don came up with the title of the blog; a bit corny but funny and too! He always has a good sense of humor.) 

It was a sweet celebration and one I hope our families continue because when we spend Chanukah with our family here in California, I am often transported back in time with memories of my youth.  During the early years of my childhood, our family would go to my Aunt Maxie and Uncle Normans where we would exchange gifts with our cousins after a meal full of jokes and laughter. Those were very good times, times that my heart remembers with a warm smile. I love that my children are creating their own memories with their own cousins; memories that will make their hearts smile when they have grown into adults.

The Gelt!

December Moon

Fog in Fall

Havanna

Havanna ("With two n's" Amara repeatedly reminded us) was a store that sold alfajores and other sweets. We had been told about the store back home but we were not prepared they would be everywhere in Argentina. 

We saw  Havanna shops in the airports, in the different districts of Buenos Aires,  on a corner of one street in the small town of San Martin de los Andes and on every flight the snacks were a box (with Havanna boldly writtren) with two sweet snacks and crackers. I have to admit, I was not a fan of any of these but we were got such a kick out of seeing the name. Especially baby girl. Who wouldn't like to see their name in lights, even if there are two N's.

Addios Argentina

 On the last two days in Buenos Aires we cooled off in the hotel's rooftop pool. With Summer in South America just a few weeks away, the days in the city were hot which made the pool the perfect place to chill after our outings.

I knew it would be hard to return to California's winter; rain and cold were the exact opposite of the weather we had in most of Argentina. I started to have fantasies of becoming a sun chaser; of having two homes, one in the northern hemisphere and one in the southern. We could move from every six months, living our lives under blue skies and a bright, warm sun.

But alas, reality came crashing back. So while Don had the girls take their final dip in the pool, I packed up with a sad heart about leaving a land, that in a few short weeks, I had grown to love.

Our rooftop pool with a view!

 Argentina bid us farewell with a dazzling sunset.

We had a two hour delay; so by the time we boarded at 11 p.m. we tired and ready to sleep the 10 hours to Atlanta. Then it would be another 5 hour flight. It was a long haul to get back home but our hearts were filled with many memories, lots of love and a suitcase full of trinkets to adorn our home. Addios Argentina. Until next time....

Hola Buddha

 Just after we touched down in Buenos Aires and got settled in our apartment hotel, I  saw some darling little Buddha statues  next door in the hair salon's window. 

I just had to buy one. But they were not for sale. So over the next few days I kept my eyes wide open for these little Buddha's.  I eventually found one of a larger size, on Calle Florida. Score! Later I bought another while out walking on Sante Fe Street. On our last night in Palermo I came upon  the tiny ones I had seen our fist day in the city.  I couldn't resist and now my office at work is graced by these delightfully cute and colorful Buddha statues. I am sure the real Buddha might frown upon the commercialization of himself but they are just so darn adorable.

Gracing the storefront window on Sante Fe Street.

Here they are in my office! They each represent symbolic like peace, prayer, love, joy.....I just adore them! It's so funny how something so mundane can make me so happy. Especially when they are of bright colors.

Familia de Buenos Aires

 

They say you save the best for last. Well on our last day in Argentina, we visited the Buenos Aires side of the family. Marta, Patricia, Lulu  Mama Juanita and baby cousin Charo (they are in that order above except Charo) welcomed us all with hugs, kisses, stories and a scrumptious lunch. We had a lovely and memorable visit with these down to earth, affectionate, and loving cousins. The girls, especially Havana, who would love a little sibling, was content to play with Charo who was just over a year old.

It was during visits like this that I wished I spoke Spanish. While the heart knows no language, I would have liked to heard the exchanges between Don and his family. I was able to gather bits and pieces of funny stories of  past visits and of California cousins, when they lived in Argentina but it was not the same. I have never once regretted being adopted and raised by my New York Jewish family but on days like those in that cozy Palermo apartment, I longed to know the language of my birth family. I made a commitment then and there to make sure the girls learn Spanish.

The few hours we spent with our cousins went too fast. I was sad we had not been able to see them more than that one afternoon. Then I learned that Lulu and her family would be traveling to California for a family wedding just after the new year. My heart smiled; we would get to see some of our cousins again soon.

The most touching part of the day was when Mama Juanita, who was close to Don's mother, Josephine (or Jo as she was known to family and friends), looked at Don and started to cry as she spoke about missing his mother. I barley understood the words but my heart translated (and then Don did with words.) It was quite moving to hear someone who loved Don's mother, share stories about her. For a few brief moments, we felt Jo's presence in that room. She had come alive through Juanita. It is moments like those that stay with a person. I won't forget that, nor will Don who also got teary at Juanita's stories. It was very moving. The girls didn't quite understand it but they felt something as they both looked up from their busy play and asked, "Why is Papa crying?"

I pray the children on both sides of the family can continue to the connection of the family. Family means many things; sometimes family is heart, sometimes blood. In the Coughlin family it means both and that is a very special thing.

Juanita with  great granddaughter Charo.

Charo with grandma Lulu, Don and Juanita.

With Patricia.