Last Week: Wackadoodle Silliness
An ode to nonsense. Plus, links.
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Dear fam,
Have you heard of the game CrazyBall? No? That’s probably because Big Kid and I invented it yesterday afternoon. Here’s how it goes:
You throw various orb-shaped objects (mostly balls, but pompoms are also great) at a giant exercise ball and see where they bounce to. Run around after them, laugh… That’s it.
Big Kid did a lot of inventing with my wife and I yesterday. We started the morning with a “science experiment,” which always means pouring vinegar over baking soda and seeing what happens. This time, we got a bunch of different sized bottles and tried to see which one would make the most impressive eruption. Plus, food coloring for dramatic effect.
We scootered around a nearby playground, exploring how big the splashes would be through various puddles. We got wet, and played on the playground in stocking-feet for the next hour, really mastering the trick of sliding down a pole, and climbing and jumping and climbing and jumping.
We also spent some time playing music together (Wipe Out, of course. It’s always Wipe Out), and then in the evening we made a ramp for toy cars to fly off and tried every last one to see which would go farthest.
It was a good day. Finally.
It’s been a rough couple of weeks at the Chaos Palace, what with my wife’s trip, and the leak in the kitchen, and the emotional (and physical) exhaustion of dealing with it all. Toddler is somehow still getting more teeth, and is super duper cranky and clingy. Also, did you know that a side-effect of teething is bad digestion? Yeah. It’s been an extra smelly few days, if you know what I mean.
Meanwhile, Big Kid is definitely still recovering from the strangeness of my wife being away — he’s been waking up with nightmares and being even more contrarian than usual. He asks the same questions over and over again. “What are we doing tomorrow?” he asks. One of us goes over the schedule, somewhat patiently, only for him to ask, “What did you say?” or repeat the initial question.
Last week everyone in the family cried at least once.
It was, therefore, a huge relief to have a relatively relaxed weekend. It felt so nice to just follow the intuition of the day without having to adhere to a Schedule or get anywhere On Time. We jammed to Wipe Out until we felt done. We lay on our bellies and watched a rock concert. We did word-searches and puzzles until we were tired of them, then we played CrazyBall ‘til we didn’t. We made vinegar volcanoes until we ran out of vinegar.
At one point, Big Kid was scootering around the playground and he saw a giant puddle under a tree. “I have a great idea!,” he grinned, “Let’s wash my scooter there!” I didn’t think this was such a spectacular idea. The grass between us and the puddle was soggy and squelching our way over there only to dip his scooter in a muddy mini-lake? No thanks.
But he was giggling, and the sun was shining, and I felt exhilarated from jogging alongside him in the crisp air. So, I relented, and we did squelch our way to the tree. We dipped his scooter. “See,” Big Kid shouted, “We’re not wet!” And then he stepped in a puddle with both feet.
Huh, I thought, I could really get annoyed right now. Big Kid was freaking out; the sensory experience of wet cloth on him always makes him deeply uncomfortable. He wasn’t exactly shrieking, but he wasn’t not shrieking either. Instead of blowing up, I took a deep breath, leaned over, and picked him up. “Oysh matok sheli,1” I said, “I hate to say I told you so, but I did told you so. Let’s get you all dry. Hakol yihyeh bseder2.” I teased him a little about being right until he giggled. Then I put him on my shoulders and carried him back to the playground, where he played firefighters for the next hour, perfectly content.
“I love your wackadoodle silliness,” I told him as I walked back to the playground, “It brings so much joy into my life.” It’s so true — my life without Big Kid and Toddler would be easier, but also so much less vibrant.
I’m so glad I took a breath in that moment. Often, it feels impossible not to succumb to the impulse of the moment. The emotions that arise during parenthood are so intense — no pastels, all neon bright feelings in this journey — that to remain patient and remember to laugh at the absurdity is a triumph.
I attribute this ability to the sunshine and crocuses, to the waffles we ate for breakfast, to how much we were already laughing while speeding around the park. I also attribute it to having had the opportunity to pray with my community the day before.
Every few weeks, my wife and I spend Shabbat with a wonderful community in Greenwich, CT, where we have the honor of serving as Sacred Music Directors. This past weekend was Sisterhood Shabbat, and we got to lead services along with four generations of community women. I got to chant the haftarah3, always a treat for me (I love the cantillation melodies of the haftarah) and we sang “One Voice4” with everyone over and over and over until our hearts were full.
There’s nothing like singing with people who love one another to heal your heart, is there?
I have no idea what this week will hold. I hope it will hold more time for breathing, and at least a few belly laughs. I hope I’ll get to play CrazyBall and Wipe Out. I hope I get to sing with other folks.
In the meantime, wishing you a week of crocuses and daffodils.
Shavua tov,
Mikhal
What I’m reading
The incomparable
offers two wonderful affirmations for those of us who are tired of being told there’s such a thing as perfect parenting.The Burnt Toast Guide to Family Dinner was a breath of fresh air. These two sentences, in particular, felt like a hug: “Work schedules are often at odds with little kid bedtimes, or older kid extracurricular activities. Neurodivergent kids often need a less rigid approach to meals, and this doesn’t mean they or their caregivers are doing anything wrong.”
You Have Permission to Stop Breastfeeding is what I needed to hear when I was bandaging my breasts each night because I was afraid I’d traumatize my child by taking away our togetherness even though I was bleeding every day. May you never have such terrible boundaries as these.
- by offered this fantastic, evidence-based breakdown about the very real ways in which this very real neurodevelopmental condition impacts the lives of folks assigned female at birth: Women and ADHD
- Lenz wrote Building a Woman from Scratch, a fascinating take on Poor Things as a link in a long chain of almost-but-not-quite feminist manifestos that fall short of their proposed goal. Oh, and don’t forget to order Lyz’s book here.
What I’m listening to
I found this lovely EP completely by accident. Now you have it, too.
This Little Stem by Ten Towers
What I’m writing
Last week I wrote another mini-essay in my series about Israel and Palestine called Trying to Understand. I also released another interview as part of my Dreams of Chaos series, this time with
, a new friend and creative soul. And in last week’s newsletter I wrote about trying to give myself some credit.Oysh, my sweet
Everything will be alright
A selection from the Prophets
by The Wailin’ Jennies