another edition of child photography...

Well, the kids managed to get a hold of the camera again.

Ah, the beloved broken baby swing... Nobody rides in it anymore because it's forever wet and dirty from the rain. But at least it's being appreciated here.

Cool hardware, huh? I'll bet that's never been properly appreciated. Until now...

Portrait of the Artist

A child's view of the artist's mother... Boy, is that how I look from down there?

A foothold from the playset... Cool.

A path to nowhere... (or the driveway)
Close-up of the artist's friend, Sam--her partner in crime

Hey, if you have any child photography of your own, send it to me. I'll share it. Really.

happy father's day...

Happy Father's Day to all of the dads out there!

I'm happy to report that it was sunny here in Siberia, I mean Seattle, and we spent the day at the beach playing and splashing and building sand castles. The water was arctic, and the temps probably didn't hit even 70 degrees, but it was sunny out and that made us all very, very happy and oddly cheerful.

And I think Boaz had a nice Father's Day, though we were up at 6am, not with kid-made breakfast in bed, but to watch the Meet the Press tribute to Tim Russert, which was very sad. After that, B didn't feel like sleeping in, so we all got up and made breakfast together. The kids were sweet and cute with their homemade cards and B was so happy with them and obviously so touched by how sweet their cards were--it was one of those moments that makes you remember how good things are.

Father's Day is a funny day for our family, too, because Samuel was born on Father's Day. It always makes us remember the day we became parents and Samuel loves to hear the story over and over about how he was his dad's best Father's Day present ever.

This Father's Day I also dodged Samuel's birds and bees bullet for the last time. He came down after I tucked him in and practically begged me for the truth. So I gave him the preliminary rules--strict instructions to not talk about it with his friends ever (yeah right) and that what I was about to explain isn't allowed until you're at least 30 and married (uh huh). And then I gave him the truth, in a very vague and G-rated way, to which he replied:

"Ewwwwwwwwww! I don't believe it!"

I'm hoping it wasn't a mistake to tell him, but he's a persistent kid and Father's Day seems to be a day of milestones for our family. Though, I wish he could've asked his father. I wonder if he would've gotten the same response.

Happy Father's Day!

birds and bees, fried eggs and spurns--spring is in the air

Boaz worked late tonight and dinner got off kilter pretty quickly. I made my specialty--scrambled eggs--which I get away with because the kids love them and Samuel really has a thing for eggs--especially fried eggs. Everyone was hungry, tired, and whiny and then Samuel brought up the question I've been seriously putting off for years. (You'd think that since I knew this was evenutally going to get me, I'd have come up with an answer. But no, my middle initial is P for Procrastination.) Sensing something was about to happen,Tali and Naomi's ears perked up quickly.

Samuel: So Mommy, how do babies get born?
Me: They grow in the mommy's belly.
Samuel: I know that. How do the babies get in the belly?
Me: Um, well, Mommys have eggs in them, and Daddys have...
Samuel: Wait... Moms have eggs in them? Like chicken eggs?
Me: Um, no, not exactly. They're a lot smaller. All girls are born with eggs.
Samuel: So Tali and Naomi have them?
Tali: I have eggs?
Me: Um, yeah.
Samuel: Can you fry them?
Me: No! Samuel, you can't fry your sister's eggs... I mean... No... People eggs aren't like chicken eggs.
Tali (knowingly): Right. They're very different. Girl eggs like spurns.

for those of you trapped in siberia...

I am having trouble working on work tonight because I'm dreaming of warm beaches and Googling cheap air fares (there are none) to warm places. Tickets to anywhere are so expensive that I'm about to take a friend's advice and head to Spokane (I hear they have good corn tortillas there), but since I'm desperate for warmth now, I've taken to Googling photos of warm places.

Now, I generally like Google, but if this result in response to my search of "photos of warm beaches" is a joke, it's a very, very cruel one.

Here's a little warmth to you Seattle-ite Siberians...

Yeah, it's not working for me, either. But, I know those two blob figures are supposed to be people--warm people. And while we're waiting for some blistering 60 degree weather, I'm begging you... No turtlenecks in June. Please. (It's just so sad.)

NEWSFLASH! SEATTLE IS COLDER THAN SIBERIA!

Yeah, yeah, I know it's Wordless Wednesday and all but this is big news. I feel justified in yelling to the world that the Seattle Times has announced to all that Seattle, is in fact, colder than Siberia--the best known most miserable place in the world.

And not to beat a dead horse to death, but driving to work the temp outside was 48 degrees. In June.

Siberia is warmer than Seattle, huh? Wonder what their housing market is like...

asher at the park--remembering the sun just a month ago...

wordless wednesday

a mother's mind is like a sieve...

I spent the other morning at my friend Julie's house where we'd planned to put up these cool Blik decals on the walls of her daughter's room (they are so cool and I'm drooling over the Anise design), but gave up trying to get anything done because it was too hard with the kids, so we sat with them and ate their snacks and watched them play.

"Is Tali going to gymnastics today?" Julie's oldest asked and we both realized that we'd totally forgotten about gymnastics. How it's possible that we forgot, I'm not sure. Gymnastics is a weekly event that four of our six children go to. It's at the same time each week and it's not unexpensive. Yet, it totally fell off my radar. And I have to say, I'm so relieved that Julie forgot, too, because 1.) I've always figured she was so together and 2.) now I'm a little less convinced that I'm experiencing early onset Alzheimers.

Here are some of the other things I've forgotten this week:

1.) Samuel's sleepover--I actually called Samuel's friend's mom and said, "Hey, Samuel would love to have a sleepover this weekend--what do you think?" And after a long pause, she said, "Amy, we planned one for tonight." Oh, right. Yeah... I was just testing her!

2.) Not only did I get one call from a summer camp this week, but THREE telling me that I'm late in sending back the medical forms.

3.) Father's Day (By the way, if you are my father and you are reading this, I have not forgotten Father's Day--See? I'm reminding myself right now!)

4.) I forgot to go to my dentist appointment last week... Just totally forgot. But I did remember this week that I was supposed to go... last week.

5.) On Sunday, Boaz and I both forgot that we've been keeping Tali off of dairy because she's been having stomach aches. So he took her to a birthday party in the afternoon where she ate pizza, cake, and ice cream, and then later on when we celebrated Naomi's birthday, she continued to eat more pizza, cake, and ice cream. And then spent the evening in bed with us curled up in pain with a stomach ache. Sigh...

6.) I'm about three weeks overdue in giving another parent my contribution for the teacher's gift. Luckily, she's got my number and knows where I live. :)

7.) And finally, a few days ago, I was driving a friend home, and even though I'd been to her house probably about two dozen times, I could not remember what street she lived on. Seriously. And though I have always been very admittedly and severely geographically disabled, this friend does not live very far from me. I explained to her how I've done this to other friends--forgotten where they lived--and one friend took it personally and how it was just my complete spaciness, but I'm not sure she didn't think something was a bit off with me.

So why am I forgetting everything? Is it because I'm not careful enough? Maybe, but I have lists in twelve billion places and have resorted to writing the most important information on my hands (which I have to say, is actually not the greatest look. But it does work--at least until you've washed your hands a couple of times.) I would write it on my face if it'd help, but lately, I haven't had time to look in the mirror often enough to believe that seeing something there would help me remember anything.

I'm going to attribute the forgetfulness to simply being way overwhelmed. Three kids, five schedules to create and follow, twelve tons of laundry, committees to serve on, miles to run, meals to cook, lunches to make, carpools, baseball, t-ball, gymnastics, doctor's appointments, phonecalls to return, bills to pay, and a career to grow, and oddly, thankfully, or unfortunately, I rarely forget things at work, so maybe my brain isn't strong enough to hold it all? And why are we, why am I, trying to do so much? Maybe there are just times when our family motto of "Everyone in bed and alive at the end of the day makes for a good day" is a good enough goal to live by.

So this is just to say that if I've forgotten to call you back or can't remember where you live, it's nothing personal. It's just that my brain is leaking a little.

a little song and dance--more meal time entertainment

Mealtime at our house is often entertaining...

how a two year old eats her lunch...

For those of you who haven't experienced it, or who have long forgotten (or blocked it out of their memories), this is how a two year old eats her lunch.

happy #2, naomi!

Today we celebrated Naomi's second birthday with a small family party and our friends Kim, Fifi, Sam, and Jacob. We also had my aunt Natalie there as a special treat and it was a very sweet party. I had felt a little bad about not having a big to-do (yes, yes, I'm repeating my Birthdays Without Pressure mantra...), but when it all came down to it, it really was fine that the two year old hostess with the mostest didn't have a lot of other two year old friends over since the rule of birthday guests per age is a good one for a good reason (okay, we didn't follow it, but our guest list with only one other one year old was a nod in that direction--nevermind the six other older children).




Also, Naomi had only gotten a 45 minute nap instead of her much longer one (thanks to a loving sister who was way too excited about the party!), and I'd been suckered into making homemade cupcakes and frosting by Boaz, who convinced me it'd be such a fun thing to do with the kids, and then when he saw my reaction, then kindly offered to bake them himself, but left it to the last minute and was then called out for a work emergency leaving me to powerbake said cakes a couple of hours before the party. But I'm not at all bitter. Not at all. Especially since I have the phone number to Cupcake Royale programmed on my cell's speed dial and I grew up thinking that using a box cake mix was the same as homemade.

Nope, not at all bitter.

And were the cupcakes better than box? Um, yeah. They totally were. And the homemade frosting was also quite yummy, though the consistency was wrong and on most of them, I ended up using the back-up can frostings I had pre-bought in case of an emergency. That didn't stop us from digging into the home brewed stuff with spoons after we'd tried the other frosting.


And Boaz did all the party dishes, which made him a hero again.

But most importantly, the birthday girl LOVED her cupcakes.

She loved opening presents...

And everyone had a good time.

Uncle Dan especially had a good time with the party hats.

Happy Birthday to my little Noemi, who is strong and sweet and deliciously curly. We are all so lucky to have you in our lives.

P.S. I think you should know that even though it looks warm in Seattle in these pictures because most of us are wearing summery clothes, it is not. The sun came out for about an hour and we all sat outside (some of us in our winter coats), and then gave in and came inside where I passed around wool socks like party favors. Maybe my cousin Becky is right and I should try to appeal to Spring instead of writing hate mail to Winter.

dear winter... you suck.

Dear Winter,

You suck. You really do. I hate you. I really do.

Okay, okay... I'm going to try to be mature about this (but seriously, how mature can someone be if they're writing a letter to a season?!). Things have just gotten out of hand here. We are close to the end of the first week of June and it is still blustery and cold. COLD, I tell you! Temps in the 50s do not make for a pleasant Spring.

I'll admit, at first I thought I might be overreacting. We are in the Pacific Northwest and weather swings a little differently here. But for the past three years, I've really been able to anticipate warmer weather as it coincides with the (also unending) base ball/t-ball season. The season starts off cold and the kids have to wear long sleeves under their jerseys.

The beginning games are a bit miserable for the parents because it's cold and the little siblings are sad to be hanging out in the wind and rain, but then as the season progresses, the days get warmer and the games are really fun to watch. Okay, I can't find any photos for some reason--must be my stellar photo archiving strategy--but I KNOW that last June was warm. June is supposed to be warm. See how warm Naomi's first birthday was?

See? That's a small child wearing a tank dress and she's barefoot, too. She is pale, but it's warm. I remember it.

Here is Tali's last game of the season...

Um, note the long sleeves and jackets, and even parkas on the parents in the way background

Okay, Tali does look happy here, but it's because of the game, Winter. Not you. And she's just cute (so says her mother) so she gets another photo. So there.

Everyone is walking around cursing you, Winter. And then even though some of your friends (must be Frosty and Co. disguised as school parents) say, "It's like this every year. June is dreary." But I will remind you that we usually have more than three days of sun before our dreary June. Today at Samuel's baseball game, the sun came out for three minutes while we all raised our faces upwards and sighed and enjoyed it. And then it was gone. And we had to go back to our cars to keep our noses from running and our children from freezing. And apparently I missed my son's grand slam. (It's debatable whether or not this is really true, but the view from the car really isn't ideal.)

Also, can we talk clothes for a second? Last month, on our one hot day (wooooo, it was 80!), my friend Kim and I went shopping for summer clothes. I bought a pair of summery white jeans, a pair of bermudas, and a summer top and do you know where those warm weather items are? They're in my closet. WITH THE TAGS. STILL. ON. I was so excited to wear those items. But instead, more than a month later I'm still wearing my winter clothes and they are dreary. Wool in June is pathetic.

So come on, Winter! For the kids to not be able to finish their celebratory end of season popsicles because they're already shivering is just mean and cruel. And though you're saving me money by really making pedicures and (any more) new clothes unnecessary, I'd rather expose my toes to some real genuine UV rays.

You're a bully, Winter, and it's not funny anymore. You've set your record so go home.

Beat it, Winter. You do suck.

Coldly,

Amy

there's something not quite right here (and it has nothing to do with wings)...

wordless wednesday

i have feeling...

Last week, Naomi pooped in the potty for the first time.

Talking about potty training is a slippery slope, I know. I mean, before I became a parent, I would never talk about bowel movements. And even after the first two were born, I was proud about their quick toilet training, but I never really felt the urge (pardon the pun) to really talk about it openly. I didn't really want to be the kind of parent who talked about their kid's poop. It just seemed unnecessary.

But now, on the verge of never having to change another diaper (on my own kid, at least), I'm feeling pressure. (Boy, it's amazing that once you start talking about it, how many puns really go straight back to um, the poop.) Naomi is starting her toilet learning (do they still call it that?) fairly early and before we know it, that whole diapering part of our lives will be over. It's the third kid syndrome, I think. When you're not totally forgetting milestones, you're mourning over the very ones you were thrilled to give up with the first kid.

Our girl is so proud of herself that she's ready to wear some big girl pants (though we're experienced enough to not comply). "I have feeling!" she yells when she's ready to go, so of course we all run around singing the same thing. She's loving being a big girl and when I think about how many diapers we've changed since Samuel was born, I can enjoy her excitement. Though, when the time comes, I will miss that fluffy diapered bottom tremendously.

eating strawberries on a rare warm and sunny day...

wordless wednesday

child photography...

Entranced by all things cute and digital, my kids are in love with the little Casio Exilim camera Boaz gave me last Chanuka and whenever they get the chance Samuel and Talia sneak off for some artistic photo sessions that I discover every few months or so when I regularly upload my photos onto a disc for archival purposes.

(Okay, I actually do not upload photos onto a disc and never have--they're on my hard drive and I'm just tempting fate before I lose the last two years of photos in some sort of computer crash. Also, now that I'm being completely honest, I still have the photos from the day I received the camera still on it, so um, there's nothing regular about my upload schedule. But at least I know what I should be doing.)

So basically, my children are very, very into their feet.
















We have many photos of this particularly sparkly pair of shoes, but this is a good representation of them. Talia named this one, Shoe Likes.



















Real Lime, taken by Samuel, was inspired by the first sunny day all year and we made margaritas (well, Boaz and I did), but did not have any real limes in the house. Samuel liked the way this bottle looked.

Guitar Pat, is a tribute to Boaz's guitar.

Stool Pat, is a study of sunlight and the red kitchen stool that the kids constantly fight over. According to Talia, this photo is a friend of Guitar Pat (see above).



Portraits of the Artists on the Mantle or Picture Guys, by Talia



As I'm typing this out, I see that Tali has gotten a hold of my camera again... I'm sure that means this is only the first installment of child photography.

(preschool) class of 2008--we are kvelling...

Last night Talia, Shrug*, and their friends graduated from preschool.

It was a sweet occasion. The room was decorated with flowers and lilac colored tablecloths and the tables were decorated with photos of the kids and quotes about their school experiences over the years. The teachers stood up and said wonderful, loving things about our kids and it was lovely to be surrounded by friends and family as our kids treated us to a musical performance of the childrens' rendition of the Beatles' "Love, Love, Love." We cried over the cuteness (and um, the something else-ness of the performance. See for yourself). And Tali loved being the center of attention.

The thing that seemed so obvious, though, as we watched the slideshow of these kids and looked at photos of them over the years, is how much they've changed in three years. Yes, yes, that's obvious--years two to five are filled with monumental developments. But from here on out, and now I know this being on #2 going into Kindergarten, these kids just grow so damn quickly. I took a ton of photos last night because Tali was adorable and so Tali at five with her leggings and Shrug (again!), but also because I know that even six months from now, her legs will be longer, her face slimmer and she'll be in third grade before I realize it. And that's all good, but sometimes you want the moment to last a little longer.

As for Tali and Shrug, they are ready for Kindergarten!




*Shrug is a sparkly gift from Tali's Aunt Mari and being that they're inseparable (Tali and Shrug), we no longer treat her like a common noun (a shrug), but more like a member of the family (our Shrug). Also, Shrug has attended enough days of preschool to warrant her own diploma, but being that she doesn't have arms, only sleeves, she'll share Tali's. Look for a later post on the Adventures of Shrug.

cousins...

wordless wednesday

cutting the cord is harder than you think...

Samuel has had a lot of sleepovers in recent months. In fact, now that he is a sleepover pro (i.e., he knows to which friends' houses it is acceptable to bring real pajamas vs. sweats, stuffed animals, and books for his early morning wake-up hour), he can't get enough. Pretty much every playdate and even many conversations end with him asking if he can spend the night at his friends' house, or if they can spend the night at ours.



So last weekend when I watched our friends' kids so that they could get some time out, I brought Samuel with me so that he have a sleepover with his friend. I thought that it'd be a nice way to get some time with him while he was hanging out with friends (which is decidedly cooler than just hanging out with his mom), and we had a really nice time watching movies, playing Nintendo DS, and reading People Magazine (okay, we didn't all do all those activities, but we all had fun). Shortly after I put the kids to bed, our friends came home and I checked in on my sleeping (hopefully) boy before I left.



But here's the thing... No matter how many sleepovers he's had, I still have trouble completey relaxing right before bed time when I usually check on the kids before I turn out my own light. When he's not there, Samuel's room is so empty it seems loud, and while most people think that sleeping in until 7:30 would be a good thing since our boy is usually up and bounding around by 5:45 and even if he doesn't mean to wake everyone up, he does, I miss him. Without him, the house feels peaceful and quiet for exactly three minutes and then this discomfort sets in. We all feel it. Even Talia asked, "When is Samuel coming back? I have nobody to fight with. I miss him!"



Seriously, would you send your child to sleepovers if he looked like this?






I guess this is what being a mother is about. I would never hold him back because it bothered me, but I don't have to love every second of it. He's going to sleepaway camp for the first time this summer and to be honest, I know it's going to be harder on me than it will be on him. I think I'd better set up some more sleepovers very soon. I'm going to need some training...

news update: obama has been stolen!

I went out to lunch with my friend Josh today and as we were walking to the car, I was telling him about Obama the Tape Measure (he is a patient friend) and I noticed that the Obama sign in front of our house had been stolen--ripped from the sign post. Unbelievable...

obama in the house...

Our family has been somewhat active with Decision 2008 and it's no secret that everyone in our house is now behind Barack Obama. (Samuel wanted John Edwards before he dropped out, but I think it's safe to say he's strongly endorsing Obama now.) We have our Obama sign on our front lawn and when we drive by other houses with Obama signs, Talia says, "Oh, look! Friends!" She's been known to wear her Obama pin to school and when you ask Naomi who she'd like to vote for, she smiles and says "Obama." (Fine, she gets a lot of attention for that, so really, it doesn't take a rocket scientist, but you the point.)

So, I wasn't really surprised when her favorite bear, a freebie from Ikea named Aaron Bear (after one of her friends from school), was renamed Aaron Obama Bear. However, yesterday she started screaming for her "Obama!" I ran after Aaron Obama Bear to make that pre-2 year old shrieking stop and when I handed it to her, she looked at me as condescendingly as possible for an almost two year old and said, "NO! MY OBAMA!"

Since I had no idea what she was talking about, I gave up and got her coat on to start our rounds of afternoon kid pick-ups. As we headed out the door, she squealed and then lunged for Boaz's heavy yellow tape measure. "My Obama!" she yelled happily and hugged it to her chest.

Huh?

Anyway, she slept with her Obama last night (please don't spread the word--we don't want a scandal on our hands) and now it's at daycare with her. The mysteries of toddlers are abundant.

Here is Naomi with her Obama... Please note the wet weather and the rainboots because it is still wet and rainy and cold here in Seattle on May 14th, a date in mid spring.

a letter to winter

Dear Winter,

I know that you've been getting a lot of hate mail lately, and that's why I've hesitated to write you. I know it's hard to be so unpopular and I got suckered into keeping my opinion to myself.

But enough is enough. Getting into the car this morning, Samuel shivered in his layers of clothing and said, "Doesn't Spring come after Winter?" Isn't it really almost summer?

And yes, Winter... It's getting close to summer. What the hell are you still doing here???!!!

It was embarrassing when you snowed on Passover, the holiday where we highlight the symbols of SPRING, and then by the second seder, when you snowed again, on April 21st mind you, I was just embarrassed for you. And angry. Because not only did you pretty much ruin the spring holiday, the chance to wear spring clothes, and pretty much all hope for warm weather, but you KILLED my rununculus that had been doing so well! You're a fickle and cruel season and I'm through with you.

So, for about a month you'd go away for a day or two, then come back with all your drizzle, but yesterday I'd had enough. It was Mother's Day... Couldn't you at least treat your own Mother Nature with some of the respect she deserves? Why are you so angry and bitter? Repressing others (I'm trying, Spring!)will not solve your own issues of insecurity. Yesterday, on Mother's Day, which was MAY 11, we sat at Samuel's baseball game in a blustery 46 degrees. At one point when it started raining again, most of the parents went into their cars where we could not watch the game very well and because of you, my son is angry with me for missing his best play of the season. And it's your fault, you cold freak of nature.

So, that's it, Winter. Send in Spring. Take a break. Give this California girl some sun. I'm through with you. Really. I don't want to hear from you again until at least next year.

Not yours at all,
Amy

naomi sings the afg's!

This is a proud moment for us.

Not only is our daughter able to sing most of the ABCs (or AFGs--her version) and she is not yet even two years old, but... gasp... We have managed, for the first time, to catch the scene on video and SHE. IS. OUR. THIRD. CHILD!!!

speaking about guilt...

Okay, now my guilt for not wanting to play has gone public. Check out my comments in this month's Parenting Magazine article about Mommy Guilt.

learning to play

A couple of months ago I got a flyer in the mail about a class a supposedly well-known psychologist was teaching about learning to play with your children. I almost threw it away with the junkmail, but then stopped to read further about how because play is so important for a child's growth and development, that as a parent, it is also your responsibility to learn to nurture this activity and play with your child. And, that being a "good player" and letting your child lead helps them develop confidence and leadership skills.


Seriously?


I believe I'd do pretty much everything to make sure my kids are well nurtured, cared for, loved, and educated. They play sports, love art, music, and they're learning a second language. I work outside the home, I work inside the home, I make lunches (okay, that doesn't always work out perfectly), read them stories and books while cuddling, and I tuck them lovingly into bed 6 out of 7 nights a week.


And now I'm supposed to feel guilty because I don't play with them? Or rather, I don't play with them correctly?


I do play with them sometimes. I love playing outside and running around the jungle gym pretending with them that the grass is hot lava. I love hide and seek (for at least a bit), and I love wrestling on the rug with them in tussles that usually end with a lot of tickling. I don't mind dressing up baby dolls sometimes and I get a kick out of Samuel's storylines when he's pestered into playing Barbies with Talia and ends up having his stuffed animals and action figures force Barbie and her gal pals out of their Dream House and onto the playroom street. There are games I love to play with them. So why should I have to learn to play the ones I don't?


The pamphlet said learning to let the child lead and even be bossy is a good thing, and that the parent should go along with them. Or when playing a game that involves winning and losing, you should wean your child gently into losing by letting them win fewer and fewer games. What about learning consequences? What about learning that if you can't play by the rules, your friends won't want to play with you, nevermind your mom and dad? What about learning that everyone likes to win sometimes?


And the literature repeated a couple of times that when your child is grown, s/he won't be remembering how clean the kitchen was--that playing with your child is much more worthwhile. I'll buy that. And I practice that for the most part and don't really work or do many chores while the kids are up. But even that seems questionable. Isn't it okay for your kid to know that chores aren't always fun and that the sparkly dishes fairy doesn't come in the middle of the night to do them? And, to be perfectly honest, tonight, after getting Naomi to bed and Tali was at her t-ball game, Samuel wanted me to play this story game he'd created with his K'nex and all I really wanted to do after a long day was process the day and do the dishes... very... quietly... without... talking.


"Please, Mommy. We're never alone," he says to me. Okay, I'm a sucker. So I sit down to play with these figures he's made and I can't for the life of me figure out how they're supposed to look like people and robots, but I do admire his creativity. The storyline is that this one robot has gone from good to evil and his suckers will suck up anything, even little K'nex boys. We scream and make the little figures run and it is fun. For exactly 1.75 minutes. And then I'm done. I can't think about what to make my guy say and all I want to do is the dishes. Or anything else.

"Maybe we can play something like Scrabble?" I suggest. Samuel is an incredible Scrabble player for a seven year old.


"Mommmmmmyyy... Just play this," he says. He wants me there. So play or not, I hang out with him for a while longer.


The thing is, I know he knows I don't want to play the game, but that I want to be with him. And I can tell he's okay with that, which makes me feel proud of him. We stay like that until Boaz and Tali get home from the game and the house is loud again. But for awhile, we sit silently, Samuel moving his figures along to a story in his head and then sometimes just looking up and smiling while I just sit with him. And we're both getting something we need.

naomi at 22 months...

Here's a photo Boaz took of Naomi last weekend at 22 months. Too bad she's got veggie booty residue all over her yummy cheeks, but that girl loves her some veggie booty. La.

Oops, I did it again...

I couldn't resist the silly Britney pun, but damn, I did it again last night! Another lunch, another pot. I need to invest in some new cookware and a timer with the volume of a bullhorn.

why i hate making lunches...

There are, of course, worse experiences to experience, but that said, making lunches has got to be the most painful, expensive, and loathsome task. I wish I could love setting out their lunchboxes and lovingly installing in them wholesome and delicious snacks and lunches that they would then devour during snack and lunchtime, and that afterwards, they'd feel refreshed and energized and ready to learn (or ready to learn to share, sing new songs, sit in circle, and play nicely with their friends). Also, they would use the napkin I'd carefully folded and included with their lunch and not the hem of their shirt, dress, or sleeve.



This is pure fantasy.

First there are a lot of restrictions. All three schools (yes, three schools and I don't want to talk about it) are kosher and lunches need to be dairy. Also, no peanuts because of nut allergies. So already, we're little stuck. Plus, Samuel doesn't like cheese or dairy or tofu. Or bread. Just meat and peanut butter.

Usually, I get to daycare and Naomi's teacher will say something to me like, "Hmm, so strange... Naomi ate absolutely nothing today except for a few bites of yogurt. And she seemed to totally hate her sandwich." (Nevermind that during the weekend she gobbled down two of the exact same sandwich, but I digress...)

Tali will politely say, "You know, I just didn't have time to eat everything." Which is sweet, and I can take pride in the fact that the girl has some good manners developing, But she managed to have time to eat her chocolate chip cookie (baked with bran and flax seed, mind you. I'm not sending complete crap in their lunches). Just not the avocado and cheese sandwich that she loves at home.

And I've tried thermos bowls of soup or noodles or rice and veggies... I've tried veggie sushi, burritos, bagels, everything. But when you get all that hard work returned to you at the end of the day untouched, except that it's now sort of smelly and squished, it's just degrading. Maybe that's too strong of a word for it, but it's just not nice.

Samuel is my one lunchbox success story. I've found out that the one way to get protein into Samuel for lunches is to give him eggs. The kid has never met an egg he didn't want to eat (and this has actually been an issue when we had to discuss why hardboiled eggs should never be stored for "just in case" in your backpack). The kid has a good appetite and if I give him two eggs, or an egg salad sandwich, he's really set. However, that means that I have to make the egg salad or hard boil the eggs, which isn't all that difficult, but at the end of a seemingly endless day, sometimes this happens:







These are eggs that have been hardboiled for two hours while I got distracted by watching "You Suck at Photoshop" videos on YouTube with Boaz and then folding laundry and then answering some email and then working on a deck I needed to do for work. Note the fact that all of the water has been boiled down. Note the fact that the pot has burned profusely and is pretty much ruined. Note the fact that I used the last four eggs from the carton.

Samuel had a cheese sandwich for lunch today. I can't wait to see it again tonight.

tali and her babs in all her glory cake

Becky's Barbie birthday cake reminded me that I never posted a photo of Tali's Barbie birthday cake. That cake was a turning point in both our lives (mine and Tali's). She was a bit terrified, but also quite entranced, and she and her friend Lily loved (eating while) decorating the cake with little candies and frosting. And well, I got the cake I always wanted as a kid. So there.

camp runamucka--next gen

My cousin, Becky, and her son, Ben, came to visit us last week from Madison. Becky and I have always considered ourselves half sisters since our mothers are identical twins and since Samuel and Ben were only born weeks apart, they're practically quarter brothers, or something. Anyway, it was so great to have them around and so wonderful to give our kids the family bonding time known in our family as Camp Runamucka...

Oh wait... It was so squishy in that tiny booth with six people... Here's one with all of us (sorta):

During this camp session, our campers participated in a number of different activities. Here are some we may add to the brochure for next year:


Here we see Ben practicing the fine art of eye rolling. Samuel is doing it, too, but you can't tell since all you can see is his head.



Here Becky and Tali participating in a favorite camp activity. Note Becky's fine, fine hairdo... Hair-doing is a fave of camp sports, especially for Tali. Here's a close-up of Tali's work. She would've gotten an award for this talent, except that we never got to our camper awards this year.


Pretty do...

Here are Tali and Noemi playing charades. Noemi was surprising good even though she really can't tell the difference very well between a television show, movie, or book. Still, she was quite enthusiastic. She also played very fairly for both teams.

The grownups (at least Becky, Boaz, and I) were allowed one survival trip out into the wilds of Seattle's downtown... on Saturday night... all by ourselves! We were overwhelmed by freedom... (you can see the fear in our eyes!)

But mostly, it was an amazing chance to see our kids bond with each other. It was so incredibly wonderful to see Ben and Samuel playing and conspiring and giggling with each other in the same way that Becky and I did as kids.

We all woke up the morning after Ben and Becky left feeling like our house was way too empty and we're still missing them. I loved Camp Runamucka and can't wait for the next session. La.

taking over the legacy--play ball!

Talia is playing T-ball. And, she likes sports. This makes me so happy...
I can't believe I've become a proponent of team sports, having been a miserable failure at them myself. But I feel that I've missed out on something having not played them. It seems like such a great idea--learning how to work together as a team to achieve success. Surely, it's a skill that can take a kid a long way. And as a side benefit, you get lots of fresh air and exercise.

When I asked if she was interested in playing, Talia surprised me by saying she absolutely was. She'd gone to her big brother's games and she didn't like hanging out on the sidelines. Plus, she has so much energy and nothing makes her happier than running around outside. But her friends have been talking up ballet lately and Tali was thinking about trying it again. And at the last minute, she went the way of T-ball because we'd signed up Samuel--she didn't want to be left out.

"I want to play, Mommy. I want to be a Maccabee," she says, referring to the one team in our league that doesn't play on Shabbat.

Alright then. But I totally flashed back to the time I was nine and tried out for Little League with my brother. Through sheer luck, I managed to hit the ball and catch a few balls and landed myself onto the Mustang league (which was, to my delight, a higher level than the Pinto league my brother was playing on). But during the first game, I blanked and after hitting the ball, I ran the bases the wrong way. Everyone laughed and I walked out out of the game for good. Baseball was not going to be my game.

But, Tali... She's my second chance and I know you're not supposed to live your lives through your kids, but she's so strong and determined... I know she's going to be great.

So after the first practice, I was excited to hear about how it went. Boaz said she had an impressive arm. (Is that how you even say that?)

"What did you do at practice?" I asked. "Did you catch the ball? Did you hit?"
"Well," she said excitedly. "It was so much fun. I threw and catched the ball, but I didn't hit because we didn't use bats yet--we only played with balls and mittens."

"Mittens?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said with obvious disdain in her voice. "You catch with them, Mommy."

Ah, the legacy continues...

happy #5 to tali...

I can't believe my girl is five today.





Five is a totally new world. She is no longer a baby, but a strong girl who loves to run, play, draw, and learn. She is so determined to be bigger, smarter, faster, stronger and all of that seems so far away to her that it makes her want it even more. She can't wait to start school next year, can't wait to read chapter books, can't wait to be in the next gymnastics class, and while I'm so proud of her energy, and I know it makes her the strong person she is today, my birthday wish for my girl is to slow down.

I know that is an impossible thing to tell a kid, and especially my kid who hasn't really had a slow day since she was born. (This is the kid who was born less than ten minutes after we got to the hospital...) I want her to enjoy how magic five will be. I want her to enjoy this year where she'll start kindergarten, probably finally lose that already loose tooth, meet new friends, and all the amazing, new things she'll do this year.

It's a lost cause, I know. Already she seems older and it's absolutely intentional. This morning we stopped by Top Pot for a birthday doughnut treat and she started to ask for her usual favorite pink rainbow sprinkle and then stopped.

"Now that I'm five, I'm going to try something new. I'll have that one," she said, pointing to a chocolate with maple frosting. And then she added "Please!"

But after we got it and she'd taken a few bites, she put it down. "Don't you like it?" I asked.

"Actually," she said. "I don't like it. It smells like coffee--it doesn't taste good." And then she took a breath. "And because I'm five, I'm not going to get really mad about it. But I am really sad about it."

At this point, I was ready to go back and get her the tried and true pink rainbow sprinkle, but knowing that I'd blow the whole thing, I held back, too.

However, maturity of the day was forgotten when at bedtime, after a deadly boring Dora video (according to Tali, that's actually a birthday treat) and ice cream, she had a fit when I turned off the television.

"What happened to behaving like a five year old?" I asked as I lifted her up from the floor where she was freaking out.

She stopped crying and looked at me. "I am behaving like a five year old." she said frankly. And then laughed.

Touche.

So then I took her suddenly snuggly five year old self to bed where she promptly fell asleep.



Happy Birthday to my dear, dear five year old. I guess we'll both learn this year how fast and slow can play nice with each other.

real sisters...

I think it's finally happening... It's that turning point where siblings aren't just the older one and the new baby, or the big kid and the little one who always gets into your stuff and turns your favorite Legos and Polly Pocket accessories into their own lethal weapons. I think that Tali and Naomi are finally becoming friends. At least a little bit.



Last night as I was asking, then telling, then telling her for the last time, and then yelling at Talia to hang up the dress she'd tossed onto the floor after changing into her jammies, Naomi just looked at me like I was insane. She then picked up the dress and stuffed it into an open drawer. Then she looked at the two of us as if we were the biggest morons on earth ("Geez, even a baby can put the dress away!"). Tali jumped up and hugged Naomi.



"Noemi! You stuck up for me! And you cleaned up for me! We're going to be best friends!" And Naomi, of course, was thrilled to be given that kind of attention from her big sister.



That night, after I put them both to bed, I heard them giggling and talking in the dark. It was the first time they'd ever done it, and it was terribly sweet. I sat on the floor in the hallway listening to them until I could tell Naomi had fallen asleep and then went in to say goodnight to Tali again.



"Look, Mama... I put her blankets back on her and tucked her in snug." Tali looked pleased with herself. "Do you think that she'll clean up for me every night?"

noemi loves socks

I've got another girl who is very into what she wears... Specifically, Naomi is obsessed with socks, and not only her own socks, but Talia's socks. Yesterday she dug out her sister's ladybug knee socks and refused to take them off, or to cover them with pants. This is the outfit she wore for most of the day...

(Try to ignore the toothbrush under the piano bench--we seem to have become the sort of household that keeps its hygiene items in odd places.)

overheard from the backseat...

...while driving Talia to school in the morning:

(sung to the tune of "Let it Snow..." or something sort of close to that tune, but not really super close)

"Oh, the weather outside is freezing...
And now our Lord is wheezing
Oh, He has to cough a lot
Oh, He has a lot of snot so we should go to the ER and fix Him up..."


Not sure what to make of this. Maybe cold season has officially begun?