I have finally made the move to a new blog format with my a new domain name: http://ihavemorerocks.com.
It just makes sense. I just have more rocks. So bookmark me!
I also have a new gorgeous site designed by @napwarden which I'm loving... It's nice to get a fresh space.
So come visit me! I promise, I will be writing more these days!
Sunday, June 06, 2010
Wednesday, June 02, 2010
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
my small contribution to fighting cancer...
Last month I signed up with the American Cancer Society's DetermiNation program to dedicate my run with the Seattle Rock n Roll half marathon to saving lives by raising money for cancer research, medical care and support for cancer patients. And specifically to support two close friends battling cancer now--Josh and Lani.
To be completely frank and honest, though I've always loved the aspect of dedicating runs to very deserving non-profits, I've never done it. I've always figured the race entry fee was manageable enough and the fundraising was too much for someone already juggling a family and heavy workload.
And then, the Rock n' Roll Seattle sold out this year. Raising money for cancer was my ticket to run it. It was a perfect opportunity, actually, because unfortunately cancer is pretty much the reason why it was so important for me to run it this year. It was one of those coincidences that couldn't be more obvious if it had smacked me in the face.
Running this race is my way--albeit a small way--of fighting back against a disease that has taken too much. It's small. But it's something...
Please visit my DetermiNation fundraising page and support me with a donation so that together, with the American Cancer Society, we can help save lives and create a world with less cancer and more birthdays.
To be completely frank and honest, though I've always loved the aspect of dedicating runs to very deserving non-profits, I've never done it. I've always figured the race entry fee was manageable enough and the fundraising was too much for someone already juggling a family and heavy workload.
And then, the Rock n' Roll Seattle sold out this year. Raising money for cancer was my ticket to run it. It was a perfect opportunity, actually, because unfortunately cancer is pretty much the reason why it was so important for me to run it this year. It was one of those coincidences that couldn't be more obvious if it had smacked me in the face.
Last year for the Rock n' Roll Seattle inaugural race, the Shalom Bayit Running Club was formed. Comprised of a bunch of moms desperately needing the outlet (hence the name Shalom Bayit, which means Peace in the House in Hebrew) and one dad who pushed us harder than we'd go on our own, we'd meet once a week for our long runs. Lani was one who pushed for t-shirts, thus making our club OFFICIAL and even after she learned she was moving to Nashville, she postponed her move long enough to stay with us to do the run. We were determined to run the Rock n Roll half in Nashville on our birthday this year (We are Birthday Twins down to the same year and state...)
Just a few months after her move to Nashville, she was diagnosed with Breast Cancer. You can read about her story on her blog, ChemoBabe.
I've written about my friends Josh and Kim on this blog before. Josh is still fighting his fight and posting about it on his blog. But really, without Josh and Kim, I would've never developed a love for running. There were a number of treks up 95th with him, all three of us chugging away on that huge hill. And Kim pulled me through my first 10k, first half marathon and introduced me to the um, pleasures of Gu.
So it just seems natural that I'd be running for these two incredible friends of mine. And while it's a small contribution to the scheme of things, I've already gotten so much support from other friends and community members. And there's still work and kids to juggle and lunches to make and carpools to drive and all the craziness that comes with life, I feel like this run is one thing I can contribute to the cause of fighting cancer--this wretched disease.
Running this race is my way--albeit a small way--of fighting back against a disease that has taken too much. It's small. But it's something...
Please visit my DetermiNation fundraising page and support me with a donation so that together, with the American Cancer Society, we can help save lives and create a world with less cancer and more birthdays.
Monday, May 24, 2010
it's so nice to be thanked...
As I was cleaning out the lunchboxes this evening, I found this note from Tali, thanking me for lunch. Sometimes I send little notes in her lunchbox for her to find later in the day, but this is the first time I received a note back. And a thank you note, no less.It totally took me by surprise. One, the fact that my daughter realized that today, my first day on a new job was a big day for me. And two, the fact that she was thoughtful enough to do what I did for her made me proud. It made me even think that I was doing a pretty damn good parenting job.
And then of course nobody would go to bed tonight and I ended up taking away screen time privileges.
Sigh... I'll take what I can get. Oh, and tomorrow, she's getting a pretty great note in her lunch box.
Monday, May 17, 2010
how i didn't embarrass tali at her oneg....
My kids’ school has this tradition of honoring a couple of kids at their Shabbat celebration each week and dedicating the Oneg to them. Each student spends time during the week writing a note and making a drawing for the kids being honored at the Oneg about why they are special and then on Friday afternoon, the kid gets to sit up in the front of the room with their family and special invited friends. During the service, for the primary grade, the teachers read from the notes to the group and then the kids get to choose from parents, teachers and friends to tell them out loud, in front of the whole assembly why they like that kid.
This is a huge event for the kids. They look forward to it all year and really, it’s incredibly adorable. It’s a truly big deal for them. They know they’ll get to pass the tzedaka box around, they know they get to sit up in front of the classroom, and they get their first experience with public speaking as they introduce their families.
When Sam had his first oneg, I was nine months pregnant with Naomi. I’m pretty much a sap, anyway, but put my huge pregnant belly on an itty bitty elementary school chair to watch my firstborn’s class tell us they love him because he has a heart of silver and gold turned me into a blubbering mess. Tali watched in horror, the moment etched in her heart forever. Sam turned to me and told me frankly, “I’m going to have to call on Daddy next time.”
For Tali’s first oneg, she invited her Aunt Kate and cousin Asher, who showed up dressed as a tiger. He was roaring at her classmates, but guess who she was embarrassed about? At least she warned me ahead of time. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I want you to know I’m going to call on Aunt Kate because she’s not going to cry.” Fine. The teacher went on to say wonderful things about my wonderful girl, her friends professed their love for her heart of silver and gold and her aunt blubbered at what a wonderful person she was and how proud she was to be her auntie. Tali beamed proudly.
Last week Tali had her oneg. Because of the remodel we’re in the middle of, the job craziness B and I are in the middle of, the insanity of our schedules, we told my parents at the last minute and they came. I could tell Tali was surveying her options. Her teacher said lovely things about her, her friends still considered her heart silver and gold, plus she helped people when they fell down on the playground, and many of the pictures they drew for her proclaimed “Tali rocks!” I beamed.
When the time came, she chose me as her family representative to say why they loved her. She put her hand on my leg as she came up to me and then gave me a look that I would never mistake for being anything other than “Don’t mess this up.” Gulp.
I thought about baseball and those little charts Boaz uses to keep score with during the game. I thought about watching golf on TV. I thought about split pea soup. I said something about how I loved Tali because she had a great sense of humor, makes me laugh, and has the best hugs ever. She smiled broadly at me and moved on.
I didn’t cry.
But the thing is, I didn’t say anything about how Tali is one of the most passionate people I’ve ever met. I didn’t mention the fact that when she was two and we took her to see the Pooh’s Heffalump Adventure, she sobbed inconsolably when Lumpy was separated from his mother, walked out of that movie and said, “There is nothing sadder than a movie where a kid can’t find his mommy,” and then proceeded to cry everytime she thought about it.
I didn’t say anything about the fact that Tali is capable of such incredibly silliness that she can make me forget that I’m a grown up. Her smile takes up her whole face and her freckles make you happy just by looking at them.
I didn’t say anything about how my sweet, gentle girl is a maniac on the soccer field and will throw herself into walls on an indoor court. She runs like a wild animal and when she’s concentrating on something, you forget she’s a child because her expression is so fierce.
And I didn’t mention that she is so sensitive that she already feels emotions so deep they make her physically sick to her stomach. But that she has the depth to understand that it is her
feelings making her feel a certain way.
When I was pregnant with her, I had some bad test results with my triple screen that implied that there were chances of her being born with some chromosomal abnormalities. I felt her first kicks on my way to the amnio and was devastated that it happened to be that I felt her on the day when I might learn so much about her future. Later that night, after the procedure while I was lying in bed trying to go to sleep and not think about the day, I felt her kick again. And I had such a strong feeling that she would be okay.
That is how I feel about Tali still. She is someone who will persevere and who will succeed. She is someone who can still look beautiful even while doing her infamous lizard nose (I’ve never seen a girl with such nose muscle control!!!). My Tali… I will listen to you and contain myself in singing your praises in public, but at least now I’ve had my say.
This is a huge event for the kids. They look forward to it all year and really, it’s incredibly adorable. It’s a truly big deal for them. They know they’ll get to pass the tzedaka box around, they know they get to sit up in front of the classroom, and they get their first experience with public speaking as they introduce their families.
When Sam had his first oneg, I was nine months pregnant with Naomi. I’m pretty much a sap, anyway, but put my huge pregnant belly on an itty bitty elementary school chair to watch my firstborn’s class tell us they love him because he has a heart of silver and gold turned me into a blubbering mess. Tali watched in horror, the moment etched in her heart forever. Sam turned to me and told me frankly, “I’m going to have to call on Daddy next time.”
For Tali’s first oneg, she invited her Aunt Kate and cousin Asher, who showed up dressed as a tiger. He was roaring at her classmates, but guess who she was embarrassed about? At least she warned me ahead of time. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I want you to know I’m going to call on Aunt Kate because she’s not going to cry.” Fine. The teacher went on to say wonderful things about my wonderful girl, her friends professed their love for her heart of silver and gold and her aunt blubbered at what a wonderful person she was and how proud she was to be her auntie. Tali beamed proudly.
Last week Tali had her oneg. Because of the remodel we’re in the middle of, the job craziness B and I are in the middle of, the insanity of our schedules, we told my parents at the last minute and they came. I could tell Tali was surveying her options. Her teacher said lovely things about her, her friends still considered her heart silver and gold, plus she helped people when they fell down on the playground, and many of the pictures they drew for her proclaimed “Tali rocks!” I beamed.
When the time came, she chose me as her family representative to say why they loved her. She put her hand on my leg as she came up to me and then gave me a look that I would never mistake for being anything other than “Don’t mess this up.” Gulp.
I thought about baseball and those little charts Boaz uses to keep score with during the game. I thought about watching golf on TV. I thought about split pea soup. I said something about how I loved Tali because she had a great sense of humor, makes me laugh, and has the best hugs ever. She smiled broadly at me and moved on.
I didn’t cry.
But the thing is, I didn’t say anything about how Tali is one of the most passionate people I’ve ever met. I didn’t mention the fact that when she was two and we took her to see the Pooh’s Heffalump Adventure, she sobbed inconsolably when Lumpy was separated from his mother, walked out of that movie and said, “There is nothing sadder than a movie where a kid can’t find his mommy,” and then proceeded to cry everytime she thought about it.
I didn’t say anything about the fact that Tali is capable of such incredibly silliness that she can make me forget that I’m a grown up. Her smile takes up her whole face and her freckles make you happy just by looking at them.
I didn’t say anything about how my sweet, gentle girl is a maniac on the soccer field and will throw herself into walls on an indoor court. She runs like a wild animal and when she’s concentrating on something, you forget she’s a child because her expression is so fierce.
And I didn’t mention that she is so sensitive that she already feels emotions so deep they make her physically sick to her stomach. But that she has the depth to understand that it is her
feelings making her feel a certain way.
When I was pregnant with her, I had some bad test results with my triple screen that implied that there were chances of her being born with some chromosomal abnormalities. I felt her first kicks on my way to the amnio and was devastated that it happened to be that I felt her on the day when I might learn so much about her future. Later that night, after the procedure while I was lying in bed trying to go to sleep and not think about the day, I felt her kick again. And I had such a strong feeling that she would be okay.
That is how I feel about Tali still. She is someone who will persevere and who will succeed. She is someone who can still look beautiful even while doing her infamous lizard nose (I’ve never seen a girl with such nose muscle control!!!). My Tali… I will listen to you and contain myself in singing your praises in public, but at least now I’ve had my say.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Saturday, May 08, 2010
mother's day--not just another hallmark holiday. or maybe it is...
Before I was ever a mom, and before I had any idea what being a mom is about, I had a friend with two small kids. It was her first year in Seattle (also, I think it was her last) and it was rainy and gloomy out and she called me and asked if I wanted to join her for some spa time.
"It's Mother's Day... Don't you want to spend it with your kids?" I asked. (Oh, the naivete...)
"We had a great morning together before naps. But, boy, you just wait."
I'd shrugged off that conversation then--it was during the years when I wanted to start my family and had idyllic romantic ideas about what being a parent entailed--and, at the time even wondered if her reaction was really normal. But every year on Mother's Day, I think about that conversation and Sarah and my different reactions, because it was so blatantly obvious that I had no real idea how complicated it was to be a mother.
I have just had the best Mother's Day I've ever had. And I think it's because finally, after 10 years of being a mother, I actually truly feel like a mother.
I know that sounds sort of bizarre, but this time I saw Mother's Day for what it could be worth. When I realized that nobody was making plans, I called my mother and along with my sister-in-law we made plans to go have have pedicures and drinks in the late afternoon and then meet up with the crew for takeout dinner afterwards.
The whole day was spent enjoying being a mother. I got my breakfast in bed. Twice. (Starting at 5:45am. Frozen Krusteez pancakes--I guess what goes around comes around.) I had amazingly adorable handmade cards delivered to me all day long. (Also starting at 5:45am.) I spent the day with the kids gardening, being silly, breaking up fights, kissing booboos, helping with homework and also engaged in some totally unfun disciplining. In short, it was a parenting day, but it was one where I remembered all day long how much I've always wanted to be a mother and how much I love being a mother to my kids.
And then at 5pm I got to sit in a chair next to my mom and Kate and sip a drink while someone else massaged my legs with hot oil and lotions. It was relaxing and lovely. And because the three of us are usually accompanied by six kids, it was a treat to actually be able to track each other's conversation. Kate even fell asleep in her chair while having her feet rubbed (ah, the joys of night nursing...) It was heavenly. The perfect mix of enjoying what you have and getting a break, as well.
Tonight I'm back to laundry and making mediocre lunches that will come back to me tomorrow night all smushed and uneaten. But anyone who says that Mother's Day is just another Hallmark holiday is... Well, they're probably right. But I'm certainly not complaining.
"It's Mother's Day... Don't you want to spend it with your kids?" I asked. (Oh, the naivete...)
"We had a great morning together before naps. But, boy, you just wait."
I'd shrugged off that conversation then--it was during the years when I wanted to start my family and had idyllic romantic ideas about what being a parent entailed--and, at the time even wondered if her reaction was really normal. But every year on Mother's Day, I think about that conversation and Sarah and my different reactions, because it was so blatantly obvious that I had no real idea how complicated it was to be a mother.
I have just had the best Mother's Day I've ever had. And I think it's because finally, after 10 years of being a mother, I actually truly feel like a mother.
I know that sounds sort of bizarre, but this time I saw Mother's Day for what it could be worth. When I realized that nobody was making plans, I called my mother and along with my sister-in-law we made plans to go have have pedicures and drinks in the late afternoon and then meet up with the crew for takeout dinner afterwards.
The whole day was spent enjoying being a mother. I got my breakfast in bed. Twice. (Starting at 5:45am. Frozen Krusteez pancakes--I guess what goes around comes around.) I had amazingly adorable handmade cards delivered to me all day long. (Also starting at 5:45am.) I spent the day with the kids gardening, being silly, breaking up fights, kissing booboos, helping with homework and also engaged in some totally unfun disciplining. In short, it was a parenting day, but it was one where I remembered all day long how much I've always wanted to be a mother and how much I love being a mother to my kids.
And then at 5pm I got to sit in a chair next to my mom and Kate and sip a drink while someone else massaged my legs with hot oil and lotions. It was relaxing and lovely. And because the three of us are usually accompanied by six kids, it was a treat to actually be able to track each other's conversation. Kate even fell asleep in her chair while having her feet rubbed (ah, the joys of night nursing...) It was heavenly. The perfect mix of enjoying what you have and getting a break, as well.
Tonight I'm back to laundry and making mediocre lunches that will come back to me tomorrow night all smushed and uneaten. But anyone who says that Mother's Day is just another Hallmark holiday is... Well, they're probably right. But I'm certainly not complaining.
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