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.

overheard from the backseat: more birds & bees...

Tali: Hey Daddy, I got an inappropriate question for you.

Boaz: Um, Okay...

T: I get how you and Mommy made Samuel.

B: You do? Wait. You do?

T: Yes, and I get how you made me because Samuel was still little. But when did you guys make Naomi without us knowing about it?

B: Um, well...

T: Ohhhhhh, I get it! THAT'S why we go to school!

small frye... this is when you know her momma is dressing her...

wordless wednesday

what's to eat without wheat?

So, if you know Tali, you know that she frequently suffers from stomach aches. This has been going on for years now and though we've been to the doctor a number of times, nothing ever comes up in her tests.

So for awhile now, we've attributed it to nerves.
Which frankly seems a bit like a cop-out. It's true, she doesn't like loud places with lots of people (oh wait, can you say school?) and she is a total slave to schedule, which is something I'm um not that much a slave to. Nor is her dad.

Last summer the poor kid carried around a plastic bag, even to Disneyland, for fear of throwing up. And though she only did once (and I'm 99.9% certain that was carsickness), I think she actually likes to drive her brother crazy by embarrassing him with the bag. And also, it does make a mighty nice windsock when you're riding a bike.

But this has been going on forever. I'd thought that if it were a transitional thing, we'd be transitioned by now. We've tried giving up lactose and dairy, and that helped a bit.

But now we're giving up wheat.
Which is a problem. Because that is sort of what kids eat.
Tali is up for it because the pain is real enough. But she doesn't like meat and well, she loves her some carbs.

Anybody have some experience in with the wheat free world out there? Recipes? Web sites? Insights?

When I announced last night that we were going to try this, Tali nodded and then laughed.

"Oh great. Now Mommy is going to have to learn to cook again. Maybe we should just keep going out for sushi."

Sigh... So much confidence. (Help? Anyone?)

what a city girl puts at the top of her wish list (or why kids shouldn't be admitted to costco during the holiday season...)

wordless wednesday

kids these days, or how i prove how old and out of it i am...

After school today I took the kids to our friendly neighborhood Target to peruse the Halloween stock. We checked out the costumes, the candy (did you know that Hershey Kisses now come in Pumpkin Spice? Is that truly necessary?), and of course, the Halloween makeup where you can make disgusting scars and disfigurations that my kids are totally obsessed with. No longer fascinated with Star Wars or fairies, the kids like the scary and disgusting. And nobody could be bothered to check out the cute animal costumes.

"Not even Noemi would like those," Tali sighed, rolling her eyes and giving her shoulders a little pre-tween shake.

After we'd looked at everything, we headed to the groceries (OMG, Target now has groceries??? Do I need another excuse to head over there?) because once again we are out of milk.

"Hey, Mom! I'll bet they have stickers!" Sam suddenly yells.

"Um, sure," I say, heading toward the coolers. "Why do you want stickers?" I ask. "For your locker?"

"Noooooo!" he says totally insulted. "Why would I want stickers?!"

"I don't know," I say. "That's why I'm asking?"

"No, Mom," he says slowly and carefully, as if he's talking to someone who needs some special help (like his mom?). "Stickerz! You eat them, but you can also use them as stickers! For your face!"

"Those are so cool!," Tali chimes in. "I love those! They stick!"

"Wait," I say, "You eat them and then put the fruit snacks on your face? Why would you do that?"

"No, really," he says. "They're cool."

"Don't you usually try to avoid food on your face?" I ask.

But nobody answers me because they've found the Stickerz and hallelujah, they're on sale for .87 a box (um, that somehow did NOT surprise me that the store seems to be trying to close them out), but I score major points by splurging on two boxes.

In the car, they squeal as they each rip open a package and promptly lick their fruitsnacks and apply them to their faces like large, juicy star-shaped pimples.

"We are so cool..." Tali sighs.

you need your tongue to kick...

wordless wednesday

tali got da limbo...

wordless wednesday...

interview with tali...

Me: What's your name?

Tali: Tali

Me: How come you like being called Tali and not Talia?

Tali: Because it's better than Talia. It's spunkier.

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

Tali: A cool girl.

Me: It's hard to earn a living being a cool girl. What do you want your job to be?

Tali: A vet. I want to help animals. And I want a puppy.

Me: What is your favorite thing to do?

Tali: Play with my brother.

Me: What do you like to do together?

Tali: He'll play Barbies sometimes to be nice, but he doesn't like it. And stuffies.

Me: Is Samuel nice to you?

Tali: Yeah... Mostly.

Me: How old are you?

Tali: 6

Me: Do you feel 6?

Tali: No, I feel 5.

Me: Why don't you feel 6?

Tali: Because I just don't feel 6 yet. I'll feel 6 later on in the year.

Me: What are you most proud of about yourself?

Tali: That I have a mommy and daddy and best friends. That's it... I gotta go.

unca dan likes sily nis...

wordless wednesday

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

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.

birds and bees, act 2, scene 1...

It seems we've moved on to the second kid as far as the birds and the bees discussions go, but this one isn't all that interested in the bees part.

The other day while she was taking a shower, she pulled the B&B question on me. And apparently, my kids like talking about difficult things when they can't see my face. Samuel always is more open while I'm driving, looking at the road, and he's in the back seat. And Tali has obviously found the shower to be her hot spot. So there I was, drying my hair, thinking about how we'd make it to brunch on time, and Tali wanted to know how babies were made, or more specifically, how babies weren't made.

Tali: Are you going to have anymore babies?
Me: Nope, I don't think so. Don't you think three kids is the perfect number for our family?
Tali: Well, how do you know you won't have any more babies?
Me: Well, um, hmmm... Daddy and I can decide that, though sometimes you never know.
Tali: Huh?
Me: I'm pretty sure there won't be anymore babies for us. You guys are exactly what we wanted.
Tali: Sure, but what do you do to not have babies? Do you take medicine that keeps the babies away?
Me: Yeah, it's like a medicine.
Tali: Oh... (She smiles) So if you're having babies, you're really not taking your medicine, right?
Me: Um, right. Mostly.
Tali (with her face lit up): Don't you think that's a lot to know about everyone you know? Wow, I get it now...

I'm seriously frightened to think about how much she gets at age five...

tali writes a poem...

Leave floating

Red, black, yellow, purple green

Falling in the air

Jump, crunch, crack, smack

-------------------------------

(The first word must be a typo, but I think it makes the tone of her first serious Kindergarten piece even stronger...)

conversation over breakfast...

Talia: I wish I had recess with Samuel...
Sam: We'll never have recess together, Tali. I'm too old for that.
Talia: What about when I'm in third grade like you?
Sam: Nope, that won't work, either. I won't be at your school anymore. I'll be in middle school.
Talia: Oh... (looks like she's about to cry)
Sam: But you could come to the Husky Stadium College with me when we grow up.
Talia: Really?
Sam: Yeah, and it'll be good because we won't have to fly home for holidays. We can just drive.
Me (interrupting): Hey you guys, I have a good idea. You could just live at home for college and then you'd already be here for holidays!
Sam: (looking at me as if I've lost my mind) You can't be serious, Mommy. That is just not what you do in college.

It was worth a try...

just a phase... scary...

Today I dropped Tali off at school and for the third day in a row, I left her crying, clinging to my leg and with the most tortured and miserable expression her face--a look that might seem reasonable if I'd just said, "Bye bye, Baby! I left you a plate of soggy brussel sprouts for lunch and have fun cleaning up your brother's legos all day long!" but not for leaving her with the world's yummiest Kindergarten teacher ever--Morah Mary Grace.

Outside the classroom, after Morah Mary Grace intercepted, gently closed the door and made the international hand signal for please get the hell out of here fast, the other parents were standing around talking about their kids. Of course.

"She's just going through something," my friend says. We could still hear Tali's wails from inside the classroom. "She'll be okay in a sec."
"It could be the change of seasons," someone else says.
"Or the fact that it's the end of the week," someone says.
"Or that she's the middle child."
"Kindergartners are always like this," says a parent with an older child. "They don't know if they're big or little anymore."

Maybe her planets are no longer in alignment?
Or maybe it's another phase...

Except, if they're always in one phase or another, does that even make any part of it a phase at all?

Last year, in preschool, T went through this phase where she didn't want to go to school, hated being away from me, and cried miserably when I dropped her off. Sounds just like now, except that I know she likes school.

I listened on as the parents continued talking about stuff their kids were going through--you know, phase stuff. Apparently, these kids never stop with their phases. They're in a phase, going through a phase, just getting out of a phase...

It's beginning to sound like an excuse to explain the unexplainable. In the meantime, though, I'm hoping that Tali's dropoff troubles are short term and that they'll fall away once she's used to the colder weather, darker mornings, and unaligned planets, and that she gets through quickly whatever she's going through now.

And let's please hope that she doesn't blame me for the rest of her life for being a middle child...

a good sign that my daughter needs a pet...

not so wordless wednesday...

a lesson in listening to the second kid...

Today Talia's class took their first Kindergarten field trip to the pumpkin patch to learn about Fall harvests. We'd gotten instructions last week to pack her a sack lunch and to make sure she wore rain boots and warm clothes because most likely the patch would be cold and muddy (it was).

So I dug out her boots that still fit from last year and handed her a brown paper sack and some markers and let her color all over it while I made lunches. This is something she's watched Samuel do a

number of times and in the past, it always made her feel a little jealous to see him working so hard on his field trip lunch sack.

Tali decorated her bag with her name in big letters, lots of flowers, and the big-eyed people she likes to draw. But when she was finished, she told me that she didn't want to go on the trip.

"Really?" I asked. "It sounds like fun. Plus you get to pick out your own little pumpkin," I told her.

"Yeah, but it'll be muddy. I don't want to go," she said. This seemed odd because Tali isn't the kind of girl who usually minds some mud, but I had three lunches to make, mountains of laundry to fold, baths to give, kids to put to bed, blah blah blah.

"You'll love it," I told her. "You'll have fun."

This morning, same thing. She didn't want to go, it'll be too muddy, it won't be fun, and she kept singing the same tune even after Samuel showed a significant amount of envy at the fact that she got to go on a field trip. I dropped her off in her classroom with her booster seat freshly marked with her name, and as I kissed her goodbye, I whispered to her, "It's going to be great. You'll have a great time."

"If you say so," she said with uncertainty. But she didn't cry or make a fuss, so I waved goodbye and left.

As I got into my car, a friend of mine whose son is in Tali's class waved to me and said "Wow, their first field trip. I don't know why I feel so nervous, but it feels big."

"They're fine," I reassured her. "They'll have fun." And what I was secretly thinking was "Come on... It's just a 20 minute drive to the pumpkin patch. Cut the cord, girlfriend!"

And then as I was driving out of the schoolyard I realized what was up--that this was her very, very first school field trip and of course she was nervous. She was a school kid on a school trip. With her school. Not her parents. Or even her daycare.

I felt like such a total tool. She was scared.

Even though she's known some of her friends for years and she's been around the school for years, as well, while picking up or dropping off Samuel, this was new to her. I didn't shed a single tear on her first day of Kindergarten because we'd been through the whole process just a few years ago with Samuel, but this morning after dropping her off, I sobbed all the way home as I thought about my girl feeling fearful and anxious, but not being able to or knowing how to talk about it. I felt guilty about overlooking some of her big moments because we've been there before with her brother. And I felt sad that I'd been too preoccupied with the minutiae of the day that I didn't stop to wonder why she was acting so strangely.

Of course, by the time I picked her up she was gushing about how much fun she'd had and she couldn't wait to show me her special green pumpkin (my girl is not one to follow popular conventions).

I feel like I got a pass this time for not noticing how quickly Tali is growing up. And while I will probably never be one of those moms who puts together a scrapbook for every life event (hell, I still haven't put together my wedding album), I am determined to slow down a little and listen a little more closely.

Oh, and the photos? Taken by one of the moms who obviously felt like the first school field trip was a big deal. I'm so grateful...

the day we've been waiting for all summer--the kindergartner's very, very first day of school...

wordless wednesday...

this is what happens when your pants are too tight...

Poor Polly Pocket...

Her pants were just too tight and when Tali tried to pull them off, Polly pretty much self-destructed.

Really, Polly... Those plastic silver skin-tight pants are cute (and still intact), but nothing is worth the fate you've met--certainly not a pair of plastic pants.


Why am I still letting my daughter play with this crap? Partly because the book I'm reading about raising girls swears that their confidence in themselves isn't threatened by playing with slutty dolls.


But also because after this catastrophe and the tears were wiped away, she proclaimed "I will never wear pants that are too tight!"