ski adventure to scottish lakes...

We survived our back-country ski adventure to Scottish Lakes, and I have to say, it was really fun. That said, I think that the managed expectations helped a bit, since how I pictured this trip was really me huddling in a lean-to with my three shivering kids and then every few hours hiking through the snow to a smelly outhouse.

So, it was much, much better than that.

Friday was a beautiful day to cross-country ski and it was warm enough to ski in our t-shirts. The kids managed wonderfully for the first two miles up the trail. Samuel scooted on ahead with his friend, Micah, and Tali trudged on up in her skiis, despite the fact that she's never cross-country skiied in her life. And Naomi promptly just fell asleep the moment she got zipped up in the pulk.

But then the kids remembered that we didn't have time to stop for lunch before getting to the trailhead, that I'd somehow neglected to realize that we needed a packed lunch, and we quickly ate through the snacks I'd bought at the last gas station stop. The hike got long and after a couple of hours, Tali was finished. Boaz added her to the pulk and pulled her along for a little longer and then we were rescued when more friends on snowmobiles took her up the rest of the way with them.

Much to my surprise, the cabins were very, very warm with the wood burning stoves and we even had to open our windows at night when the ten of us went to bed in our lofts. (Yes, ten.) Our hosts were lovely and we all ate dinner in a shared lodge.

But skiing the next day, I realized what it was that makes people ski uphill for miles to a place where you get no privacy, tromp in snow to your knees to pee in an outhouse, and hot tub in the snow. With a lot of kids. Oh right, and hang out in unseasonally blizzardy conditions.

It was amazing to ski in a place where even though there were trail markers, there were no tracks. The kids called the woods, "The Spooky Forest" but really only because they'd hardly experienced anyplace that was so untouched by marketing and consumerism. You could tell they were thrilled and terrified at the same time. And free. They could run outside and sled for hours, or go from cabin to cabin by themselves and we knew they were safe. And they loved the independence.

Plus, we saw real nature animals--not just the racoons and squirrels you see digging in the garbage in Seattle. Our friend Shai spotted a bird he named the Fatso 3000. You can see why.

I do have to note that the item that saved my sanity on this trip, aside from discovering a new love for Evan Walker, was the accidental discovery of the Travel John Jr. disposable urinal. For reals. I'd found it at the Right Start while shopping for a baby shower gift and when I saw it, I thought it'd be great for Naomi because it'd be so hard to drag a small child out in the middle of the night to an outhouse to pee when it's ten degrees and snowing and I'd save her the trauma.

The women in our cabin divvied up those pee bags (ironically, Naomi was the only one who refused to pee in them). I know I sound like an unrelenting advertisement, but I can seriously say that I stand behind (or on top of?) this product. And they didn't spill or smell. They just gelled up immediately!

Okay, enough potty talk.

The biggest bummer of the weekend is that a good handful of us came down with the flu and it's still dragging on. But that won't keep me from going back next year--with pee bags for everyone!

right before a meltdown... (thank goodness she's so cute!)*

wordless wednesday

* Copyright All Rights Reserved 2009 and officially wiped with hummus so as not to mess with the Zohan. (Don't ask...)

home alone...

Yesterday I left Samuel home alone for the very first time while I went 2 miles down the road to pick Naomi up from preschool. I don't really know when you're supposed to let your kid stay home alone, but when he asked if he could stay home and finish his homework, I realized that when I was his age, my brother and I left for school by ourselves and came home to an empty house and we were fine. Oh, also we hiked ten miles each way to school in the freezing Southern California snow, but it built character and we're better people for it.

And do you know why?

Because we were Latchkey Kids.
Does anyone ever call kids that anymore?

"Okay," I told him. "You can, but here are the rules..."

"I can??? Really? Do you think I can start babysitting for money, too?"

"Um, not quite yet. Let's try this first."

So I gave him the rundown--"don't answer the door, don't use the microwave, oven, or toaster, don't touch my computer, and if someone calls, don't tell them you're alone in the house--tell them your mom can't come to the phone right now."

"Okay, okay," he said, trying to hide his excitement. "I can't believe you're going to let me do this! I'm going to get all my homework done!"

But when I get in the car, I think, oh my gosh, this is totally crazy. I just left my eight year old home alone and I'm driving away from him. While he is alone. In our house. With no parents. Or anyone.
So when I get to the end of our block, I call him up.

"Hello?"
"Hi, is your mom home?" I ask, trying to disguise my voice.
"Um, she can't come to the phone right now," he says. "Who is this?"
"One of her friends," I say. "Can you tell her that Shelly called?"
"MOM! I know it's you," he says trying not to laugh. "Why did you do that?"
"Just testing you," I said. "Are you scared?"
"Nope, because you've only been gone for about two minutes."
"Okay," I say. "Call me if you get scared."

Two minutes later, the phone rings...

"Hey, Mom," Samuel says on the other end.
"Hey, Buddy, did you get scared?"
"NO!" He sounds disgusted. "But I was wondering, can I make a sandwich?"
"Oh. Sure. Just don't use the toaster."
"Okay, thanks," he says and hangs up.

Two minutes later, the phone rings again...

"Hi, can I play Wii?"
"No, do your homework."

On my way back home with Naomi, the phone rings again.

"How do you spell 'radioactive?'"

"Hold on," I tell him, "I'm pulling in the driveway. I'll help you when I'm inside." Of the twenty minutes I was gone, we were on the phone for at least ten of them.

Samuel is waiting for us at the door and he looks elated and completely proud of himself.

"Isn't that great that you can leave me home alone now?" he asks.
---------------------------------------------

We're off for a big back country cross-country ski adventure, or something like that, for the weekend. I actually have very little idea what we're doing except that we're cross country skiing uphill for at least four or so miles and then staying in a place with no electricity or running water. And the bathrooms burned down last month. As well as the fire-heated sauna. And I'm not sure how the kids are going to deal with the ski adventure, but I'm sure we'll get some cute pics of them in the pulk or on their skiis, even if they don't manage to do either for very long.
But the good thing is we're going with friends. And a lot of liquor.

seriously, this laundry thing is out of control...

Okay, really now people... What do I do with this crap?

In the photo you can see one hamper, but what you don't see is that there are three more like it. Also, that coffee is in a bad place and is just waiting to get kicked over, thus creating more laundry.

Yesterday, Tali went through at least three different outfits and we had spaghetti for dinner, which naturally creates more laundry.

HOW. DO. I. KEEP. UP?????

I am now taking suggestions. Every morning there's a hunt for clean socks, clean underwear, a shirt or two or three... I try to make it a game.

"Hey kids, dig in! You never know what you'll find at the bottom of the pile!"

They're no longer amused.

I wonder if there's a service out there where someone will come in once a month and take care of this problem for me. Oh yeah, and I have to be able to afford it.

I think it's time to teach the kids how to work the washer and dryer...

in response to the current financial climate, naomi is doing her part...

Now that we've been out of diapers literally for more than a month, I can officially say that Naomi is potty trained. And as a result, we actually do not have a single diaper or pullup in the house. I know this because Naomi had a friend over today who probably could've used a fresh diaper. Alas...

And unlike her older siblings, Naomi seriously went cold turkey on the whole pullups at night deal. I tried to talk her into it because changing a whole set of sheets on a bottom bunk covered with stuffed animals in the middle of the night after an untimely accident is not a reality I'd like to take part in, especially considering the amount of sleep I've lost over the past eight and a half years of parenthood (hey, another post idea!). But the girl would have nothing to do with them, even if they did have pretty princesses on the front and disappearing hearts and flowers to show that yes, she really did need that pullup on.

But Naomi is a considerate girl and anxious to grow up as quickly as possible. So in light of the current economic situation, and in my latest effort to be as recessionista chic as possible, I added up how much we spent on diapers.

During Naomi's 2 years and 8 months in diapers, we've gone through approximately 6,790 diapers (factoring in at about 7 changes a day, though who are we kidding? As she got older, she probably got changed a little less often and quite frankly, this is a third child we're talking about. But for estimation purposes, we'll go with 7.)

• 6,790--approx. number of diaper changes for Naomi


• 251--packages of diapers bought for Naomi


• $3,266.00*--approximate amount spent on diapers for Naomi


• 20,370--approximate number of diapers Boaz and I have collectively changed in our lifetime.


• $9,781.00--approximate amount spent on diapers for all three kids if we estimate that they were potty trained at about the same time, though since they relied on pullups for a considerable amount of time after training, I'd probably call that number $10k even.

I'm figuring that we're saving about a thousand dollars a year having this girl sit on the potty! But better yet, after changing more than twenty thousand diapers during our parenting years, it's incredibly freeing to leave the house without a diaper and baggie filled with wipes stuffed at the bottom of my purse. But I can't say that I don't feel a slight bit nostalgic that the baby days are speeding away from us at such an incredible clip.

Though, I suppose I still have that spare pair of princess panties in my coat pocket. Just in case.

*Not meant to depress those of you about to begin this sort of moving adventure...

seattle jewish film festival to screen my left hand...

Another chance to go see My Left Hand!

Josh Isaac's documentary, My Left Hand, will be presented again in Seattle Jewish Film Festival's 2009 lineup. The documentary film will show as part of the closing day festivities on May 3, 2009, at 5pm at the Museum of History and Industry (MOHAI). It is a free screening co-sponsored by the NW Sarcoma Foundation, with any contributions raised going to support the foundation.

Josh made My Left Hand during his battle with epithelioid sarcoma in 2004/5. It follows two years of chemos, radiations, and surgery. But as I've written before, even more emotional than all of the difficult treatments it documents, Josh's portrayal of how his cancer affected and still affects his family, community, and himself is truly moving.

The film first premiered at the Seattle True Independent Film Festival (STIFF) in 2007 where it won the Survivor Spirit Award. It also screened that year at the Tacoma Film Festival winning the Audience Choice Award. And as part of Seattle Jewish Family Services' healing program there were two screenings in 2008. The DVD is available for purchase through paypal.


Take a moment to see the trailer for the film... And then if you're in the area, come support Josh on May 3rd!

surfer buddha...

wordless wednesday...

gidget's revenge...

Okay, so the surfing...

This truly was the highlight of the trip, not only because it was generally just fun, but because learning to surf is something I've always wanted to do, but have always been too chicken to really get out and do it. Plus, it's nice to have fulfilled a New Year's resolution so early in the year, don't you think?

Samuel and I took our lesson together in a private lesson from Chris, this 50ish Hawaiian guy who runs a little surf school from this little thatched hut on the beach. Of course, it's in front of the Sheraton, so basically it's where all the haole tourists go to get their lessons so that they can feel like super cool surfers.

Hey, like me.

The lesson didn't start out that well.

Chris made us go feed the heron in the lagoon before even starting the lesson. He said it relaxed him before going out in the water and we sat on the bank for about ten minutes watching as he threw little pieces of bread to the fish so that the heron could quickly snap them up as they enjoyed what they thought were their treats. The whole thing made Samuel antsy.

"Can we go now?" he asked.

"Sssshhhhhhhhh," Chris shushed. "You have to be quiet or the heron won't eat."

Then, when we went out to scout out our spot, we had to wait another fifteen minutes for Chris while he talked with everyone on the beach.

It was very obvious to me that Sam and I were functioning at a different pace than this surfer.

But finally we were out there in the water, watching the waves and Chris began pushing us into them. I was shocked that I could catch them and stand up on my very first wave, which

felt humongous, but as you can see from the video below, was pretty much glorified whitewash. Still, I got up. And wave after wave gave me more confidence. It felt amazing.

After the first day, we went out twice again and while I noticed that it is so much harder to catch your own waves, it was tremendously fun and satisfying. I'm absolutely hooked.

But the thing that really struck me with that first day, was something that Chris said at the beginning of our lesson. He told me he usually didn't like taking moms and their kids together in a lesson because the moms have trouble paying attention to anything other than what their kid is doing. And he made me promise that I would let him take care of Samuel and I'd work on my own lesson.

"Sure, sure," I said, at the time anxious to get started.

But it was really harder than it looked. Having surfed before, Samuel was bored with the lesson and Chris started sending him out doing little surf tricks.

"You're sending him backwards?!" I squealed at one point.

"What's it to you?" he asked me, laughing. "I promise he won't drown. And you don't know this kid, anyway."

So I put my faith in this complete stranger and enjoyed my kid's crazy surf tricks from afar. And because of this, it let me absolutely enjoy myself. As a kid growing up in Southern California, I spent entire summers in the waves, body surfing and swimming and just playing, and because I was on my own that day, I felt that free again as I tried to catch waves and worked on my balance. I absolutely felt like myself. For those few hours, I wasn't a mom or wife or a daughter, friend, or consultant... I was just concentrating on the task at hand and it was incredibly freeing.

So, the video... Be kind. The wave is considerably smaller than it felt this first time in.

nothing like a little hula to soften the blow...

So I had all these plans to write about our trip, which was amazing and fun and relaxing, and I especially wanted to write about the surfing, which was seriously amazing. But then work got in the way and the deadlines sort of pushed the blogging to the side, and then the kids started complaining that I hadn't gone to the store since we've gotten home and well, I sort of thought that the sand on the floor from the suitcases was a nice contrast to the SNOW that fell outside last night and pushed out the school day a few hours, but the kids started complaining about all the crunching beneath their feet, so I got distracted from the blog...

But I'll get there.

And in the meantime, enjoy this little hula lesson and pretend you're going to the Hookie Lau...

last day on the beach...

Today is our last day on the beach and we're getting ready to go back to reality. Our lives are already seeping into our vacation. Samuel pulled out his hefty homework folder and his assigments are strewn about the condo along with bathing suits and flip-flops. Boaz is on the phone with work and I'm scheduling appointments through the next few weeks.

But for this last day, as we get ready to head to the beach, we're all putting away our homework and work until we get on the plane tomorrow so that we can get one last full day of relaxation in. Boaz and I are going off to surf together for a few hours (heh heh heh, that sounds so funny to say that I'm surfing, but I'll give you the update on that when I post the videos), and the kids are going to hang out with their grandparents and friends at the beach. They've got plans to dig in the sand until they hit the middle of the earth so we've got to get started soon.

As soon as we get home and retrieve the cord, I'll post videos of our surfing and hula adventures... It'll be my attempt to relive these beach days over and over.

paradise is all that it's cracked up to be...

We're spending the week in Kauai visiting my parents in Poipu. And truly, the minute we stepped off the plane into the balmy air, we felt like we were on vacation. Especially since our flight over involved one vomity child, one extremely wild toddler and a lot of drama.

And now, we're in this amazing condo across the street from the beach and we can see the waves break from our lanai. I'm in heaven, I tell you.

after 8:30 pm, I'm outnumbered...

Samuel and I are in the kitchen going over his spelling words when Boaz comes home from his basketball game. The girls are asleep and the house is very quiet. He goes to the fridge, grabs some leftover chicken and after eating a few bites, takes a sip of my ice water.

I gasp.

The thing is, I have a very weird thing going on about ice water. I drink it all the time and absolutely cannot go to bed unless I have a glass of it next to me. And it can't just be water. It needs ice. And it has to be very, very cold.

But the other weird thing is that nobody is allowed to drink from my glass. Not even my kids. And I'm not sure why. I don't have issues with people taking bites from my plate, sharing forks or spoons, or even having a sip of my beer. But it's the water--you cannot sip from my glass and especially not if you're eating chicken.

"Seriously," I say to Boaz, "how many times have I told you that I have a thing about my water?"

"Oops, sorry," he says and pushes the glass back toward me. "It's just that it's so good."

"Yes," I say, "but now I have to get a new one. Have I not been saying this for at least the past ten years?" (Yes, I know I sound like a raging witch--it's the water...)

"Are you talking to me?" Samuel pipes up from the table where he's doing his homework.

"No, Sweets," I tell him. "I'm talking to your daddy who doesn't listen to me."

"Oh," says Samuel. "Because it sounds like you're talking to me. Like when I don't listen to you."

"Hmmm, maybe it's because I'm telling him the same thing over and over again."

Samuel laughs. "Hey Daddy, welcome to the club. She always talks like this to me when I'm thinking about something that she's not talking about." He goes over and pats his dad on the shoulder. "It's good to have you here."

"Hey, thanks Buddy," says Boaz, grinning at me. "It's nice to belong to a club where people understand you."

"Ah," says Samuel. "The Club." Boaz reaches for the water and takes a big long gulp as I reach for a new glass. "It's good at night when there are more boys up than girls."

Sigh... 6:30am will be here faster than you think, Boys!

for the person in your life who can't even keep a cactus alive, target now sells fake succulents...*

wordless wednesday...

* Really, I did not buy one. That cactus in my kitchen is for real...

a birthday letter to tali...

Dear Tali,

Last week we celebrated your sixth birthday and I couldn't be prouder of you. I've known from the very beginning that you were destined to be incredibly special. After hanging out two weeks past your due date, you flew into this world not even ten minutes after your daddy and I arrived at the hospital and then stole our hearts with your perfect pink skin, heart-shaped mouth, and your lovely rosy features. It was so like you to announce your presence with such drama and then charm everyone with your beauty and spirit.

Maybe it has something to do with your February birthday and the fact that four of the people dearest to me have the same astrological sign as you. Maybe it's a good omen to be born in the second half of winter when everyone is looking for the first signs of the cherry blossoms of spring.

But regardless of signs, Tali, you just make me so happy.


During this hard winter when we're all dealing with so much and much of my attention is turned outward toward our friends in difficult times, you truly show me what life is about. Your incredible excitement over a minutely loose tooth, or over being able to draw a perfectly symmetrical heart, or the way you write love letters to your friends and family for no other reason than you need to share how you feel makes makes me remember how important and significant the little things are. You make me remember what matters.

This year you had your first big class birthday party and even though there was a lot of noise and chaos, I was proud to see you both enjoy yourself immensely and be such a gracious host. You hugged your friends in thanks while opening presents and made sure everyone was having fun. And then before you even started playing with your gifts, you started writing your thank you notes--carefully forming your letters and planning what you were going to write, even though you literally have never written a letter before. Your careful patience and attention span would seriously make Martha Stewart beam with pride.

And I'm thrilled to be able to see how you grow this year. I can see how excited you get about trying new things. You've taken to skiing so quickly and I love to see you push off and make your way down the hill with that look of determination and thrill with the speed. And I can see that you're so anxious to start reading fluently and I can't wait for that "click" when you actually forget that you're sounding out words and are just ingesting them instead.

And quite possibly, you are one of the warmest people I have ever met. Not only do you prefer to sleep practically under me when you sneak stealthily into my bed at night, but your affection is contagious. I can't help but snuggle and hug and buss you when decide that's what you want.

So happy birthday, my girl. You are a complete and total joy and I'm so grateful to be your mama and be a part of your life.

I love you always,
Mama

interview with sam

Me: What do you like to be called? Samuel or Sam?

Samuel: Sam.

Me: Do you like your name?

Sam: Yes.

Me: If you could have any name, what would it be?

Sam: Todd or Ted.

Me: Okay... What do you like most about yourself?

Sam: I'm good at video games.

Me: Is that what you're most proud of?

Sam: Maybe. Soon I'll get over that, though. That's what eight year olds like.

Me: So what do you think you'll like best about yourself when you grow up?

Sam: I haven't grown up yet so I don't know the answer to that.

Me: You're good at so many other things. What else do you feel like you do really well?

Sam: I'm good at snowboarding and surfboarding and all the other kinds of boardings.

Me: You are good at boardings. What's your favorite thing to do?

Sam: Go to Max's house to play Wii.

Me: What do you want to be when you grow up?

Sam: I should wait till fourth grade to make that decision.

Me: Okay, but if you had to decide right now, what would you choose?

Sam: If you're going to make me answer now, a TV cartoonist.

Me: Is that a cartoonist on TV or do you want to draw cartoons for TV?

Sam: Come on, this isn't Language Arts...

Me: Alright... What do you think is important in a friend?

Sam: He's honest.

Me: Is there a philosophy you live by?

Sam: What's a philosophy?

Me: It's like a plan that helps guide your life.

Sam: Can we skip ahead to the next question?

Me: What are some of your happiest memories?

Sam: Maybe that time when me, Tali, and Noah decorated our bellies with cookie frosting and candy hearts. And you guys laughed and took pictures and then we ate all that sugar.

Me: What are you scared of?

Sam: Bitty Baby dolls.

Me: Oooh, they are scary. Why are you scared of them?

Sam: Because my cousin Akiva is and we're buddies.

encore presentation of my left hand tonight...

Our good friend Josh Isaac's documentary, My Left Hand will screen tonight in an encore presentation at Congregation Beth Shalom in Seattle. If you're in town and haven't seen it, it's definitely worth seeing--especially if you've ever been affected by cancer.

I don't write much about Josh's battle because he does it so powerfully in his own blog. But this film is incredibly moving in that it truly captures his strength, perseverance, and even his sense of humor during his painful journey. Josh's voice is strong in this film and the experience is something you won't forget.

my left hand : A film by Joshua Isaac
Thursday, January 29, 7:00 pm
Congregation Beth Shalom 6800 35th Ave NE, Seattle
1-800-838-3006 or http://www.brownpapertickets.com/

If you can’t attend (or even if you can but want your own) you can purchase a copy of My Left Hand from the website. They’ll also try to sell a few at the screening minus the shipping and handling fees. And Josh is donating a portion of the funds from the sales to support the NW Sarcoma Foundation.

spotlight on sienna... (aka naomi)

Because I've been so swamped with life in general, I thought I'd post this little interview with Naomi... Enjoy!

Interview with Naomi:

Me: Okay, Naomi... First, what is your name?

Naomi: Sienna. Girl Sienna.

Me: That's not your name. What's your real name?

Naomi: Noemi Bomi.

Me: What's your favorite thing to do?

Naomi: My favorite thing is about coloring.

Me: What's your favorite color?

Naomi: green marker

Me: What's your fave dinner?

Naomi: macaroni and cheese or noodles

Me: Those are the same things.

Naomi: Noooooooooo!

Me: How old are you?

Naomi: six

Me: How old am I?

Naomi: four and a half

Naomi's other faves:

Fave playmates: Naomi and Alexandra and Aviva or Fifi

Fave toy: pizza

What do big girls like to do? Play dress-up

Fave outfit: underwears

Special talent: Can fall asleep absolutely anywhere at anytime

a little white lie about the tooth fairy...

Despite a large number of false alarms, Talia has her first real loose tooth.
She now pretty much always has her fingers in her mouth, trying to wiggle loose the tiny little tooth that is the size of a bitty grain of rice, and her excitement over this rite of passage has brought on the inevitable.

"Is the Tooth Fairy real?" She asked me last night.

With Samuel, I skirted the issue, careful not to lie to my firstborn. I was careful to practice the art of honest parenting.

"Do you want the Tooth Fairy to be real?" I'd asked him.
"Only if she is," he'd said.
"Well," I tried, "what do you think?"
"I think I wish she was real, but I know she's probably not."
"Hmmm," I nodded.
"And Mommy," he added, "I don't really want some strange fairy putting things under my pillow, so if she's real, I really want to know."

I knew how he felt. As a kid, when I'd lost a tooth at my cousin sister Princess Mikkimoto's house, it creeped me out so much to think about a little fairy messing around near my head while I slept that my lovely uncle graciously put the tooth under his pillow and the fairy left the treats there. I remember staying awake, listening for the fairy, or the dogs to bark at the fairy's arrival, and feeling guilty that I'd made Uncle Dick carry the burden of my weakness.

But there was a dollar under his pillow in the morning.

And I told Samuel that what he suspected about the fairy was the truth, despite my feeble attempts to keep the story alive by programming the Tooth Fairy's "cell phone number" onto my phone. Still, whenever he loses a tooth, he dutifully puts it under his pillow each time and is always pleased to see the fairy dust (glitter kept in my closet for each such occasion) and treat in the morning. I can tell that he's glad he knows the truth because that's what kind of a person he is, but that something in him still wishes he could believe the story.

So when Tali asked me about the Tooth Fairy. I did what I knew I should do for her.

I flat-out lied.

"Absolutely," I told her. "We should give her a call to let her know your tooth is loose so that she can get things ready."

"Oooooh! I'll write her a letter!" Tali said, always happy to utilize her new spelling skills. "And maybe when I lose the tooth, I'll leave her a treat, too, like kids leave for Santa Claus. I can leave some cookies under my pillow for her!"

"Um, Bunny... I don't think that's a great idea," I said, thinking about crumbs in bed.

"Oh, you're right," She agreed nodding. "Everyone knows Santa isn't real."

making history (homework)...

wordless wednesday...

president obama is in the house... (the white house, that is...)

He had a very busy day, but that didn't stop President Barack H. Obama from stopping by my kids' school today for a little volunteer time. The kids were so excited to see him and even though he was in a hurry, he stayed to greet them hello on this special morning.

He even hung out for some photo opps...

He seemed a little stiff, but nerves will do that to a person, don't you think?

Later on, after the festivities and because we weren't invited to any of the official inaugural balls, we had our own ball with Rachel Maddow on the tube and some Obama cookies.

And then we ate them... Yummy Baracko-cookies... (Okay, Naomi licked hers, but it seems generally wrong to talk about licking presidents)Rock on #44!...

It was an amazing day... Besides being pretty much glued to CNN all day, I can't get over what Obama's election means for our country and I seriously have hope for our future. It was such an intensely positive day--everyone seemed so happy and together in their optimisim. Truly, it feels like a real person who understands real issues became president today.

Hope may actually be more than a tagline...

two days in a row to make a person feel uncharacteristically patriotic...

"Hey Mama," Talia asks me. "What do you think Martin Luther King would say about BarackObama being president tomorrow?" In our house, Barack Obama has become one word.

"I think he'd be pretty proud of him. What do you think?

"I think he'd be so happy and proud of him, his eyes would get all wet and he'd cry like you did at my Oneg," Talia says.

I laugh. "I think you're probably right."

"I think BarackObama planned to become president so close to Martin Luther King's birthday. He's got real good timing, don't you think?"

"Yup," I tell her. "Tomorrow couldn't be a better day for him to become our president."


Tomorrow!!!!!!

i've been punk'd...

Late last summer, I replaced our old crumbling outdoor path lights with some new solar-powered lights. I thought it would be the green thing to do. They looked great and for the first two weeks, they worked perfectly. We were perfectly illuminated.

And then the sun went away and the lights have been dark ever since...

Which leads me to the next three questions (yes, I've been practicing my counting):

1. Seriously, what kind of a tool brain would sell solar powered outdoor lighting in Seattle, the city that spends 10 and a half months a year soaking wet and in the dark? (Oh wait, don't answer that. It was Target...)

2. What kind of a bigger tool brain forgets that they get about six weeks a year of sun and then goes out and buys said solar lighting?

3. And why is it that waaaaaay too many Seattle-ites are using this lighting? There are a countless number of houses with dark pathways like ours, and I never noticed them until ours went dark. Did everyone catch the same stupid end of season sale that I did?

Sigh... I think all this darkness is getting to me.

naomi defends against the dark forces of evil, i mean winter...

I didn't mean to let so much time slip by between blog posts, but it seems like the darkest of winter crazies has hit my family big time.

I know that I complain about Winter every year, and every year it seems unbelievably darker and wetter and sometimes even colder (remember Siberia? Oh wait, that was Seattle in June, which just felt like Winter, but wasn't actually) than any year in the history of anywhere. And maybe I'm still recovering from three weeks of being snowed in during Winter break.

But people, there is not enough coffee in the world to wake me up when the sun won't shine. I am truly a California girl at heart.

And so I've been slogging through these days, not fully awake, not fully tuned in, and slinging back mug after mug of coffee. (Note to self: Despite the fact that there isn't enough sun to fully wake up at any part of the day, you will still get that unfortunate caffeine edginess.)

And really, it's not just me.
The kids are waking up later and later, and coming home from school exhausted. They're also developing dark circles under their eyes (perhaps a sign of early onset rickets?) and they're unusually crabby and whiny.

If not rickets, maybe we're all just coming down off the holidays... In complete darkness.

We're going to have to find some ways to get through this season, considering we're only in January. One of my friends who grew up in Minnesota suggested framing one's face in tinfoil to ensure you get the brightest of any rays possible. I'm sure she was kidding, but um, don't laugh if you see me decked out in Reynold's Wrap.

At least we have Naomi to defend us...

sometimes you just have to do what you can to round those kids up...*

wordless wednesday

*Not even one child was harmed during this round-up...

what wii did during our winter break...

The kids are back to school (thank goodness Sunday's Seattle snow didn't terrify Seattle schools into calling another snowday on Monday--my gaskets have been preserved) and we're very slowly working our way back into a normal, regular schedule. Last night after dinner, baths, and homework, we even got the kids to bed at a halfway decent hour--which is also pretty normal.

The only spur sticking out of our totally well-greased machine of a schedule (I'm cracking myself up here) is that after almost three weeks of no school, the kids are resistant to going back to the no screen time during the school week rule.

They watched a lot of television and played a lot of Wii during their snowdays and winter break. A lot. There's been a whole new population explosion of Miis on our Wii, and after discovering the Wii Fit, the kids have started complaining about getting antsy without their morning workout. Huh. And that bouncy little Wii medley? We all know that by heart now. Naomi was humming it to herself in the bathtub last night.

It is my fault they got out of control.
In attempt to get some work done, I knew it'd be easy to put on the Tinkerbell video, give the girls a bowl of popcorn, and know that an hour and 22 minutes was take care of. And all of them like the Wii. And Samuel did learn some interesting things about Native American history on Google (though I did have to do some supervising--who would've thought that searching on "Squanto" would bring up sexy photos?) Seriously, that was one long winter break with some serious cabin fever...

But when they start getting antsy for the screens, it makes me nervous. For someone who is definitely drawn to technology and video games herself, maybe it's hypocritical of me to feel so skeptical about the draw. We all know that moderation is good, too much television is bad for multiple reasons, but what about something like that Wii? They're interacting with each other, they're getting physical activity, especially with the Wii Fit, and they're even using their imaginations as they role play with some of the games.

Yesterday, on an NPR story about the closing of the Woolworth's stores, a woman was talking about how her childhood memories included buying a bag of broken biscuits from Woolworth's and taking them home to eat with her brother in a tent they'd made in the living room out of sheets.

Which got me thinking...
My kids don't make tents out of sheets. And at the risk of becoming a cliche, I used to love making tents out of sheets. I also used to love to play outside, which is something my kids don't do much of because of all the rain. And I walked to school. Or at least to the bus stop.

And even though Samuel loves the Wii Fit and loves to jump and do all the physical activities, and is even very interested in what makes a body healthy and how much activity needs to go into that, I feel a bit sad when he talks about taking an early morning "jog" around Lake Wii.

But I guess the thing I worry most about is are they losing those wonderful make-believe games they loved to play just a few years ago, especially Samuel, because the video games are so much more attractive? Or is he simply outgrowing them?

For now we'll experiment by taking away the DS and putting away the Wii controllers during the week so that he's freer to do the other things he enjoys. And our normal schedule doesn't really involve a lot of time around the house, anyway, so it's a pretty natural change.

But after the kids go to bed, I'll bet there will be some Wii Fitting going on. Boaz has some pretty slick hula hooping moves...

finders, keepers...

The other day, as we were hanging out in the lobby of the Embassy Suites in Portland, waiting to check out, a woman set down a bunch of shopping bags near us and Tali gasped.

"Look, Momma! Same, same!" She squealed, pointing to a Nordstrom bag and then the little Nordstrom card she was holding.

While we all checked our wallets to make sure we hadn't lost our credit cards, I saw that it was a Nordstrom gift card, all glittery and shiny in it's consumer possibilities. "Hey Tal, where did you get that?"

"I found it on the street. Can I keep it? Please, please, please... It's so shiny and I could play store with it."

"I don't know," I said. "Let's see if it's been used or not. It might be a gift card with money on it."

She understands this immediately and starts chanting "I'm rich, I'm rich, I'm rich! I can buy anything I want!"

So today as we're getting ready to go to the grocery store, I call up Nordys and find out there is $200 on the card. I didn't really expect that much and while I doubt my five year old has any concept how much that is, we all spent a good thirty minutes trying to figure out what she'd buy with her newfound riches. And then T remembered a purse she'd seen awhile back that was shaped like a pug, but with handles and a zipper down its back. A beautiful puggy purse with a sparkly pink collar (and you know how we feel about sparkly collars in this house) wearing a price tag of $40 which had previously earned her only a palm on her forehead to see if she was burning a fever or just indeed truly crazy. And now she wanted that purse badly.

"So can we go?" she asked hopefully.

But here's the thing. I'm a total and utter goody-goody. I kept trying to picture the person who lost the card--some guy who bought it for his wife at the last minute, or some college student who was just psyched to be able to buy some ridiculously priced jeans, and I couldn't quite help thinking that if it were me, I'd try pretty hard to figure out a way to get it back.

So I call up Nordstrom's customer service department and tell the guy on the other end that my five year old daughter found this giftcard and we were wondering if it were at all possible to trace who it belonged to.

"Ma'am, it's like cash," he tells me when I reluctantly give him the account number. "This was purchased at a grocery store so it'd be hard to track."

"But what if someone had their receipt?" I asked.

"Well, I'm still not sure they'd be able to track it. You have to have the card number on it."

"So... There's nothing we can do about it?" I ask. There are serious groans from the kids who are standing around me.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I could put a hold on it."

"Hmmm," I say. "I'm not sure that would make me feel better."

"Since you told me it wasn't yours, that's probably what I should do," he tells me, making me feel like a total imbecile for a number of reasons, including pushing him to put a hold on it.

"We can't keep it, can we," Tali says knowingly when I hang up the phone.

"Nope," I tell her. "Really, it's not ours."

"If we kept it, would it be like stealing? Could they send a five year old to jail?" She seems both worried and excited at the same time.

"Here's the thing," I tell her, after assuring her that nobody will be putting her in jail, "as much as I'd love to go on a shopping spree with you, it doesn't feel right to me to spend that money. What do you think?"

Tali actually looks relieved for a second. "It's not ours," she says. "But I really, really, really want it," she manages to get out before she starts crying. The truth is too much for her at the moment. But it isn't a sad or tantrum-y cry--it's just an overwhelmed cry. And I'm so proud of her.

But boy, I know how she feels... And if you see any sparkly puggy purses on sale, let me know.

skipping ahead to new year's day the tinkerbell way...

I hate New Year's Eve.

I do. Just thinking about it makes me crabby. Hell, knowing that it's tonight is making me crabby. The number of good New Year's Eves I've had can be counted on one hand, and really, I remember only two or three of them. And the best have been fairly recent and involving mellow evenings watching the ball drop on TV with the kids snoozing next to us on the couch.

The thing about New Year's is that it feels like a set up.
I know I sound like the world's biggest downer right now. But it's true. And I'm not even talking about the parties and having a good time, looking like you're having a good time, and making sure you have plans that involve a good time--or in fact, the best time of the year. And there's the pressure to make everything seem perfect and sparkly and somehow symbolic of where you are at this point in your life and of what you've achieved.

I really like having a good time, but I'm not so good with that pressure.

And really, it's the next day that truly works for me.
The first day of the year feels like a fresh start. I love the morning after because the resolutions have been set and you get that clean slate to start things over. You'll lose weight, exercise more, be nicer to those you love, write that novel, learn to cook better, do your laundry, get more organized, yadda yadda yadda.

And I know, I know... I have never yet had a year where I've been able to say that I've fulfilled all of my New Year's resolutions. I've lost weight, gained it back, joined gyms and never went, bought parenting books that have never been cracked, passed off pre-made food as my own (you'll never know which dishes, either!), and have about twelve first chapters to as many different novel starts.

But on the first day of the year, I have hope. I'm not behind in fulfilling any resolutions and the year holds the promise of unknown achievements and accomplishments. I feel almost like a kid again in the fact that I truly feel like anything might be possible.

And with that kind of hope, maybe anything is possible.

Don't gag... I haven't quite lost my mind. And while I'm writing this, the girls and a friend are watching the TinkerBell movie and maybe the Disney creepiness has creeped into my brain.

But still, to start fresh once a year... There is something magic in that.

Happy 2009!

not exactly what i meant when i said, "go play with your sister..."

wordless wednesday...

pacific northwest winter IMs midwest winter...

Pacific NW: BTW, we're getting four more inches today
Midwest: WOW, that's crazy for you guys right?
PNW: ...and i saw my very first snowplow!
MW: We are getting more today too. LMAO! that is so funny to me
PNW: We never get more than 2 or 3 inches... we don't need many snowplows.
MW: there are almost more snow plows here then cars.
PNW: and now there's about a foot of snow outside our houses.
MW: for sure more snowplows than buses and taxis.
MW: WOW!
PNW: Yeah... the streets are horrible.
MW: OMG, I bet...
PNW: Only some streets are plowed and Seattle has decided that salt is too unPC so nobody is salting the streets for fear of endangering the salmon.
MW: SHUT UP
PNW: Yeah, more than two inches shuts down the whole city, and all the schools, too. You never know when you're going to encounter a bad street. Oh yeah...
MW: But you could all die in car accidents... OMG Seattle, LOL
PNW: Yes, but our salmon pies will be safe. We're known for our salmon
MW: LOL
PNW: They are so precious. They are our reason for living.
MW: Thank goodness... Forget human life
PNW: Humans can be evil
MW: true
PNW: salmon = goodness
MW: Happy Holidays, you people!
PNW: And then we eat them...
MW: Because you are evil... Duh
PNW: Yes, duh...

we'll miss emilie...

I just found out that Emilie Lemmons, the writer of the blog, Lemmondrops, died yesterday and even though I never met Emilie in person, her passing is a huge loss to this world.

I found Emilie's blog by combing through blogrolls and was hooked from the start. Her courageous story about her battle with cancer was terrifying, but Emilie's approach was courageous, strong and hopeful. Her blog was beautifully written and through her writing, I feel like everyone who read it was given the chance to get to know her. I've never even heard her voice, and the communications I've had with her were just over a few emails and through reading her blog, but I learned a lot from Emilie about strength, priorities, and perspective. Even through the most challenging of trials, Emilie was optimistic, warm, and never without her sense of humor.

She leaves behind her husband Steve and their two very young boys. My heart breaks for them as I listen to the loud fullness of our house. My kids are cranky after another exciting night of Chanuka and as they cuddle their new dolls, my girls are oddly singing round after round of Dayenu, the traditional Passover song that translates to "It should've been enough." It seems fitting, though, for this moment when I'm thinking about Emilie and her battle--what she's gone through.

May her memory be a blessing to those who loved her.

Dayenu...

no winter break is complete without a trip to the ER...

After a rough and terrifying early morning spill down the stairs, Naomi and I took a trip to Children's Hospital this morning to patch up her chin. It was all pretty minor in the scheme of things, and I think the sight of blood on her little sister upset Tali more than anyone. But Naomi wasn't all together convinced that her first trip to the ER would be a good thing.

But with a little topical anesthetic, some cheese and crackers, and a cup of apple juice, our girl was as good as gold. She even came home with a little sparkly stuffed bear.

I think we'll abstain from sledding today, though, so that our extreme story climber will have some time to heal.

having ourselves a happy white chanuka...

So I know you midwesterners/east coasters are having a nice little chuckle about how much we puget sounders are rattling on about the snow and all, but people...

There are 9 and a half inches of snow outside our house where two is historically a Seattle blizzard.

And because we live in a city where there are maybe twenty snowplows (and that does include SeaTac airport) and I've yet to see a street that has been plowed or salted or whatever people do to snowy streets, and I still have no idea really even what a snowplow looks like, we had a merry little Chanuka at home last night instead of the rocking party we'd planned.

So we cooked our huge 8lb brisket, made enough latkes for five, sang lots of silly songs and then opened some presents. The first night of Chanuka is usually pretty magical because the kids are so into the holiday and they're so gracious with the gifts. If I were really smart about it, I'd give them the boring gifts on the first night, like pajamas and bathrobes, but knowing we'd be stuck in the house, they each got a Lego set that made them insanely happy. (Though today, each one of them is frustrated and unable to put it together on their own and I'm chock done with Legos by this morning.)

Still... Despite the fact that the kids are going nutty, driving me nutty, and our house looks like a tornado has sucked up every one of our belongings and the spewed it out randomly and unevenly throughout every room, I'm enjoying the snow. Really. Not sure if I'd welcome four more months of this without the technology of snowplows, but as soon as I get in a few hours of work, we're putting on our skis and heading down to the Rite Aid for some more milk.

Good times...

i need one like a hole in my head...

My kids want a pet. Badly.

I know this because not only do they never ever ever never stop talking about it, but pretty much every object they can get their hands on becomes their pet. In the summer, I have to keep rescuing worms that have smuggled into our house under the guise of them being "saved" to become a pet, and when worse comes to worse, one of them just leashes up Naomi with one of Boaz's ties and calls "Here girl!" to her. (She comes, too... I probably should worry about that.)

Even just a few days ago (when it really did snow, not just on a day when it didn't snow but we called it a "snow day") we went for a family walk in the snow and while they walked, Sam and Tali each held in their gloved hands a snowball that they fed, cuddled and named (respectively called Spike and Snowy). And of course, yesterday was devastating when Spikey and Snowy melted in the warm winter sun that was our unsnow day.

So in order to cheer them up, and because there was no school on account of it being closed because of the impending storm that never came and ironically, the roads were safer than they'd been for days, we took a trip to Target where we planned to pick out birthday presents for their four friends having birthdays next week. And on the way to the toy section, we passed the pet section.

"Momma! I know what I want for Chanuka! I want a leash!" squealed Tali as we wheel by the endcap.

"Um, Tali, Sweetie... We don't have a dog."

"Yeah, but wouldn't Naomi look so cute in that pink sparkly one?"

"Not really, since Naomi is a person, not a dog."

"I like that, Momma," piped in Naomi. "I want it."

"Um, no."

"OOOOH LOOK!" Tali couldn't leave the display. "Izzy would look so great in that little dog sweater!" she practically screamed, referring to our friend Kim and Josh's pug that she's totally and utterly in love with. Tali pointed to a dog sweater with a Star of David pattern on the back. They were placed next to the Santa Dog costumes. "Or," she said slyly, "we could get her the Santa Dog costume. Izzy would look good with a beard."

"We're not buying dog clothes or leashes," I told the kids and then ended up buying presents for their friends--of which 3 of 4 were battery operated toys that barked or did something pet-like. (Sorry, Friends!)

But we do have a definite pet issue. Mainly because Samuel is allergic to dogs and cats, and also because I have three kids, one still in diapers, and I can't manage on more living being to care for. Fish are out because they die too easily and in our house, one must be fairly hardy. Birds are loud, lizards and rats are too gross, and well, so are any other kind of small rodents, too.

And the truth is, I am really not an animal person.

I'd like to be... It seems like a nice thing to be--very caring and um, compassionate or something. And they're cute, too. But I just know that I'll be the one to take care of an extra living being under our roof, and my care and compassion is spent on kids. And well, I don't want fur all over my house.

Oh, and Samuel is allergic to them, too. Have I mentioned that?

So here's the other problem... The only dog that Samuel has never had a reaction to was Ozzie, the dog we spent time with in Italy with our friends. Samuel was five, but has never gotten over Ozzie, the cute little old poodle with the skin problems. And lately, he has been reminding me about how maybe he wouldn't be allergic to a poodle, or a labradoodle, or even better yet, a golden doodle. And they are cute... And cuddly... And I won't be having anymore little babies, which is absolutely not a reason to get a dog, but I thought I'd throw that in there.

So next month, because I can't hold out any longer, we're getting Samuel tested again. And then at least I'll know whether or not to invest in a pink sparkly leash for Naomi.

snow day #2--this time with feeling (and snow)...

Yesterday the Seattle School District called a snow day, even though there wasn't any new snow yet. Mostly, it was the anticipation of a snow storm that kept the schools closed. And all day long we watched the windows, looking for some action. Nothing.



The weather report predicted snow for last night and jaded, the kids did their homework and got ready for school the next day only to wake up to a bright white world. It's been snowing all day, which is a lot of Western Washington and we've all been pretty excited about playing in all this white stuff.

We're all pretty sure the schools will be closed again tomorrow so I guess winter break has come early for the kids this year... No more school until 2009!

a good mannequin is hard to find (especially around the holidays)...

wordless wednesday...

the zen of parenting a two year old...

See this bag that Naomi is holding?

Just three seconds before this shot was taken, it was filled with outgrown snow clothes that don't and won't fit anyone in our family. In a frenzy of OCD mixed with a healthy dose of procrastination, I'd spent a little time yesterday afternoon organizing our winter gear so that I could take the stuff we didn't need to the consignment shop.

However, the minute Naomi saw the bag stuffed filled with something that could've been potentially very exciting, she quickly began unpacking.

She then made it a point to clearly ask me where were the toys were in the bag.

"There weren't any toys, Bunny. Just old clothes."

"Oh," she says. "I thought there were toys."

"Now that you've pulled them all out, let's see how fast you can stuff them back into the bag," I try.

"No thanks, Mama. I'm going to go look for some toys."

At least she's polite?

snow!

Dear Winter,

You've done me proud. The kids were thrilled to wake up to a winter wonderland on Sunday morning, and I think that Boaz and I were just as excited.

And I know that it usually snows here only once or twice a year, but Winter honey, snow is something you do really well and please feel free to drop some of that white stuff around whenever you please. Seriously, after all that dark, gloomy rain that keeps the kids inside where they get all antsy and hyper and spastic, it is pure heaven to send them outside in the yard to bounce around in all that fluff.

And also, your snow is just so bright. The way it sparkles in the sun is magical and the way my house is just lit from the reflection of all that white just makes my SAD syndrome just melt away.

And since our city doesn't really know how to deal with snow well (no salted/sanded roads and only a few plows for the whole city), we left the car in the

driveway, cancelled plans, and just took a long family walk around the neighborhood.

I'm even happy to accept the freezing temps that are along for the ride. The kids loved bundling up in their snowboots, hats, and mittens for school today and they can't wait for Wednesday and Thursday when the weather report predicts you'll be bringing us a new batch of the white stuff. Yay!

Thanks again for the treat, Winter! I'm going to accept this as your apology for raining on us through July last year. Feel free to keep the bright weather coming.

Yours,

Amy

P.S. You might want to tell my parents who are coming here for a visit this weekend to bring their jackets. Seattle ain't no Palm Desert this week!

top 10 reasons to continue to buy baby wipes after your baby is potty trained...

10. When you've agreed months ago to host a parent meeting at your house, but didn't have time between work, picking up the kids from school/daycare, making dinner, and putting out refreshments, baby wipes clean the bathroom awfully fast (and they leave a clean, fresh scent, too!)

9. And if you hand one to your two year old, they automatically start wiping everything. This is a helpful cleaning situation.

8. Baby wipes clean up those pesky snot trails your kids leave on your shoulders, and if you don't notice them until just before you walk into a meeting, you probably still have a little baggy of wipes in your purse and you can just do a quick swipe.

7. If you don't have time to really wash your car, you can pull out the babywipes while you're in the drive-thru part of the carwash and quickly wipe up the dash. Again, baby fresh scent!

6. They're also pretty good for tire rims...

5. three words--dog poo on shoe

4. Eight year olds are much less mortified (and less likely to talk about you in therapy later on) if you take a wipe out of your purse to clean off their mouth before running into school than if you lick your finger and wipe it off.

3. In a pinch, one could hypothetically substitute a wipe wash for a real bath.

2. And in that same hypothetical situation, baby wipe shampoos take the greasy edge off dirty kid hair.

1. And continuing on with the hypothetical thread, in a desperate pinch, one could use a babywipe to wipe off sweat from a hypothetical run, as well as hypothetically wipe down one's head to take off the greasy sheen. Ta da! Momma Shower!

Hypothetically, it might be a good idea to not get too close to me this morning...

this is an example of why good family portraits are so hard to get...

wordless wednesday