happy #2, naomi!

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




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

Nope, not at all bitter.

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


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

But most importantly, the birthday girl LOVED her cupcakes.

She loved opening presents...

And everyone had a good time.

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

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

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

dear winter... you suck.

Dear Winter,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beat it, Winter. You do suck.

Coldly,

Amy

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

wordless wednesday

i have feeling...

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

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

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

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

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

wordless wednesday

child photography...

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

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

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
















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



















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

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

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



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



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

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

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

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

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

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




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

cousins...

wordless wednesday

cutting the cord is harder than you think...

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



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



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



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






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

news update: obama has been stolen!

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

obama in the house...

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

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

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

Huh?

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

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

a letter to winter

Dear Winter,

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not yours at all,
Amy

naomi sings the afg's!

This is a proud moment for us.

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

speaking about guilt...

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

learning to play

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


Seriously?


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


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


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


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


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


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

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


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


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

naomi at 22 months...

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

Oops, I did it again...

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

why i hate making lunches...

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



This is pure fantasy.

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

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

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

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

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







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

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

tali and her babs in all her glory cake

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

camp runamucka--next gen

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

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

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


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



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


Pretty do...

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

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

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

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

taking over the legacy--play ball!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mittens?" I asked.

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

Ah, the legacy continues...

happy #5 to tali...

I can't believe my girl is five today.





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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Touche.

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



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

real sisters...

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



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



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



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



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

noemi loves socks

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

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

overheard from the backseat...

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

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

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


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

enough said...

the tests have begun...

Last week, Samuel took his first real test--a spelling test--the kind you have to study for. And because I wanted his test taking career to get off on the right foot, we studied for it all week until Thursday morning. I say "we studied for it" because really, it seems clear to us now that second grade homework is for the parents, as well.

The spelling list had all of the regular beginning of second grade words like "hat," "man," and "pat," but then it also had the bonus words that were taken from their math lesson and included "equation," "digit," "addition," "probability," and "addend."

Apparently, practice does make perfect (thanks, Franklin!) and though S wasn't completely sure he needed the constant drilling from his freaky mom, he went along with my madness. And when he came home at the end of the day, this is what he had to show me:

And this is the proud boy:

one of the last sunny days...

you never know what you'll find in a diaper...

Naomi is not really one to complain when she needs a change. Maybe that's because she's the third or because she's just an easy going kid (heh heh), but today after services, while trying to get her into her stroller (a task that is becoming increasingly difficult since she now wants to push the stroller--with an older sibling in it!), she had a total fit so I figured I'd better change her before we left.

The bathroom was crowded in the synagogue and the changing table is close to the door so that everyone coming in greets whichever baby happens to be getting changed at that point. It's an odd spot, because even I find it hard to coo over a baby who is having his/her dirty diaper changed.

So as I was changing Naomi's pants, an older women I didn't know began cooing and fussing over Naomi while I tried to hold her down and all of a sudden the woman looks a bit concerned and says, "Oh my..." I look at the diaper I've just opened and in addition to the usual, there is a 4x6 index card with smiley face on it.

"That must have been very uncomfortable," the woman says to me, giving me a look that pretty much says, 'what kind of a mother hides pictures in her baby's diaper.'

"Yeah, wow. Very strange," I say.

Just as I'm finishing up with Naomi, Talia comes hopping in and I say, "You will never guess what I found in Naomi's diaper--a smiley face drawing!"

"I knew that, Mommy," she says giggling. "It was a surprise for you!"

Nice. Who doesn't love a surprise?

regret starts early

It’s been two weeks since she’s nursed and she didn’t even seem to notice or miss it, but this morning, Naomi climbed on top of me and looked at me questioningly before hesitantly pulling at my shirt.
“Mama?” she asked.
“There’s nothing there, Baby,” I said and her completely and clearly distraught expression made me realize she truly understood, though she rejected the bottle I’d made for her.

Apparently the ability to feel regret starts so early that even a fourteen month old can feel that sort of loss. We’d both moved on so quickly—me looking forward to having my body to myself again (and maybe a bit more sleep) and my daughter eyeing that fat, warm easy bottle—and as we both sat there silently, I knew that what we shared at that moment was regret at the fact that greediness got the best of us.

At least we were in it together.

doogie howser says wear SPF 50

Since skin cancer runs in my family, yesterday I went for my annual skin check to make sure none of my moles have taken on a melanomic look to them. Actually, the truth is that it wasn't an annual visit, but more like a tri-annual (is that right?) visit because I haven't been to the dermatologist for a skin visit for more than three years, despite the fact that everytime a different doctor looks at my history (and since I had a baby a year ago, that has been quite often), they say "Wow, with your history, you should get yourself checked yearly."

But I digress... Sort of. Because it had been so long since I'd been to the dermatologist, I couldn't remember my doctor's name, and even though I looked in all of my old phone books and online at the clinic's site, nothing sounded familiar. So when I called for an appointment, they assigned me to whoever was there and that's how I met Doogie Howser.

I was sitting there in my underclothes and one of those gowns when the door knocked and in came a fifteen year old guy in a white coat. Seriously, he looked so young I don't know how he could possibly be the resident he said he was. It was such an odd experience because I'd heard my parents talk about how odd it was to have doctors younger than you, and I'm not so young that the situation couldn't have happened to me. But all of a sudden I was pretty sure I would not be able to lift up my gown to show this young guy all my icky moles on a body that has birthed three children. I never thought I'd care whether or not my doctor was male or female or what age, but I guess that's changed and maybe I'm old. Or just vain.

Eventually I pulled myself together because it had taken me three years to get there and I had pretty much talked myself into a nasty case of melanoma with a mark on my arm, so I pretended he was a seventy year old woman and tried to forget that I was wearing a nursing bra, and the only real rough spot was when he saw the scar below my ribs (from a previous excision) and said, "Wait, isn't your appendix on the other side?" Oh wait, maybe the rougher spot was when he said it was his first day...

But either way, I walked out with a clean bill of health (a nice, older doctor did a final check) and big bottle of SPF50.

Free for another year...

naomi is 1!

Naomi is one year old... It's unbelievable how fast this year went by and I can't believe the baby is one. On the one hand, it's so exciting because she's doing all of these new things. She's trying so hard to walk and to talk and we're all getting to really see who she really is, which is this sweet, sweet, funny, smart girl who loves to laugh.

But it's also the tiniest bit bittersweet because I keep trying to hold on to the little things that just fly by. All of a sudden, she doesn't want to be cuddled for long because she has so many new places to go and new things to try and stick in her gummy mouth (where oh where are my daughter's teeth? how many one year olds don't have any teeth???). She wants to feed herself and push the stroller and hold her own cup. They're all good things in creating a strong independent person. But still, I feel the tiniest bit sad even though the trade-off is so good.

But mostly, it's sweet. I wish I could can the sound of her laughing when her brother or sister tickle her under her chin, or the way she yells "Ta Ta" or "Ba Ba" to them when they walk in the room.

And luckily, I don't have to try to remember how happy she makes us all feel. It's amazing to have this little person that we're all in love with all the time.

(hey, it's a birthday... i get to be sappy.)

a new look at spring...

“That is so unbearably cool,” Samuel says as he watches me get driving directions from an online site. “Is that the map of our city? Where’s our street? Can I do it? Where can I go?” And then he sighed, "I can't believe you can do this. It's so amazing."

He is obsessed with computers. We’ve given him our old iBook and it is very definitely his most prized possession. He loves the video games, especially Club Penguin, which is now my favorite game, too, because it’s so interactive, free from adult marketers and marketing (so says the marketer), plus he gets a kick out of going to the coffeeshop, picking up one of the books on the shelf in there, and settling into a good story. It makes him feel grown-up, which I suppose, is definitely a part of growing up.

And today, right after asking about how our bodies know to breathe, he asked how wireless connectivity works and what a router is. He's learning how the world works, how our bodies work, and while computers were a hobby when we were kids, it's now an integral part of our lives. They're everywhere in his life. So along with "Why is the sky blue?", we're getting "How does Bluetooth work?" And once when wondering about G-d, Samuel even suggested googling for more information.

It's definitely a new world. The Charlie Brown Encyclopedia better come up with a new edition.

We're working on our answers and setting screen limits and installing safety software, and urging him not to respond to his desire (at least for now) to take the computer apart to see how it works .

It's finally spring. The flowers are coming up, it's gorgeous and amazing outside, and the days are long and getting longer. All of the excitement of being a kid and playing outside until bedtime is still there. And though I love Samuel's intense interest in all things networked and digital, there's a lot to be said for getting outside, pretending the playset is a fort, and scrambling up the slide to avoid the "lava grass." There's a lot to be said for just feeling the new spring grass on barefeet and dripping popsicles all over you.

There's a lot to be said for disconnecting.

tali learns life lessons

In an effort to not have to clean the bathroom every single day, I've recently embarked on a campaign to help the minority gender in our household remember to pay attention to what they're doing whilst in the restroom. Apparently, my nagging is having some effect, but perhaps not on the right people because this is what I noticed when Talia was playing with her Barbies this afternoon.

Scenario: Prince Charming Ken is standing in front of the Barbie toilet, pants down. (Why does my daughter have a Barbie toilet? You should go ask her Safta...) He then pulls up his pants, leaves the toilet and is immediately accosted by Bride Barbie Kayla (all Barbies in our house are named either Kayla or Lemonade), who is still wearing her veil.

Bride Barbie Kayla: "Hey Mister, I didn't hear you flush! And, you left the seat up! Hmmph!"
Prince Charming Ken: "I'm sorry, Kayla. I guess the reason I can't remember is because I'm a boy."

Hmmm... Wrong audience, wrong message. I guess I'm back to rethinking my strategy.

happy birthday, tali!

:

I just got back from Tali's birthday celebration at school, which was incredibly sweet. The parents bring a photo from each year of the child's life and they talk about their birthday kid during each year of their life, and then afterwards, the child walks around the "sun" (a candle) with a globe in her hands to symbolize a year. It's really sweet and I know that Tali loved having her parents there to show off her gorgeous baby pics and bring in yummy yogurt and fruit salad.

But I walked away feeling like I totally fumbled in talking about my girl. How could I possibly sum up in a short way the most important parts of each year of Tali's life? Granted, my audience was tricky--it's hard to hold the attention of 3 and 4 year olds, and it'd probably be weird for me to let loose and be all gushy in front of them. So... Here's what I'd really like to say about my girl:

• I love that the fast and powerful way she entered this world completely represents the way she maneuvers herself through life. I'm so proud of Talia's confidence and drive--she absolutely believes in herself.


• I love that Talia's favorite way to sleep when she was a baby and toddler was on top of me, Snoopy on doghouse-style. She's still incredibly cuddly and when she runs to hug you, you know you're loved.


• I love that Talia didn't learn to even crawl until 11 months because she was able to get what she wanted by pointing and asking for things, since she started talking at seven months. She just didn't feel the need for walking, but when she started, she never stopped!


• I love that Talia never wonders about whether or not she can do things--she just does them. She plays along with her brother at his sports practices, does her own "homework" along side Samuel, and is teaching herself to read. She never thinks she's too young to play with older kids.


• I love that Talia is passionate about art and can spend hours drawing and cutting and pasting and creating, and that her favorite (and my favorite, too) picture of hers is a study of abstract kitchen drawers. :)


• I love that though she can be a little bossy at times, she is genuinely very, very sweet and tries very hard to be a good friend.


• I love that she loves to dance and only wants to listen to the classical music station in the car because it "reminds her of ballet."


• I love that genuinely has a sunny and positive outlook on life and believes this world to be a good and happy place.

Happy Birthday to my girlie... I have never been able to get over how blessed I feel to be her mother and to have her in my life.

birthdays without pressure

Talia turns four next week and I can't believe it. I mean, not only can I not believe that my baby girl is a confident and sassy four year old, but I also can't believe how truly pleasant this birthday is coming along.

For one thing, we're exiting the terrible threes, which are truly terrible in our house--much more terrifying than the fairly benign twos, and were even more horrifying with Talia, who is both very adventurous and also quite outspoken. Thankfully, she's also quite sweet.

But also, after 6 and a half years of parenting, I have mastered the birthday party!

Tali has been talking about her birthday for about six months now. At first she wanted a party at the bouncy place that you rent out and bring in your own cake and treats to the tune of at least $300. We have friends who have done this for two of their kids at once because their birthdays are close together, and that sounds fairly reasonable and worth it. But for a kid who's not even sure what she wants, it seems like a bit much. And when you also add to the argument that we've never really made it through a huge birthday party without a meltdown, spending that much money starts not making sense for us.

After the bouncy place, Tali got stuck on having her party at Club Libby Lu, where little girls go get their hair and make-up done (little girls wear make-up???), dress up in swanky, tiny clothes and learn to walk the catwalk. Granted, most of the girls doing this were at least eight, but the baby sluttiness of this appealed to my girl. It didn't appeal to us.

Of course it's a lot to ask a four year old, or a not-quite-four year old to plan or want a reasonably priced and age appropriate party, but the thing is, she has been to these parties that she's talking about. The rule at her preschool is that you need to invite all the kids in her class or none at all. So the result is a social calendar of Sundays filled with elaborate and expensive parties because not many people want to host 20-25 preschoolers at their homes, especially in the winter. And this isn't even counting their parents (because really, do you want the parents to drop off their 25 preschoolers at your house?).

So in frustration and because neither of Tali's options were reasonable, I googled "out of control birthday" and found my way to http://www.birthdayswithoutpressure.org/. Basically, it's a whole site dedicated to fighting back against birthday party pressure and hyper consumerism. They advocate against huge, planned birthday parties and give some hysterical examples of birthdays gone bad. Their plan seems to revolve around avoiding themes, presents, goody bags, and extravagance in favor of community service and simple activities like group walks and art projects. And while maybe I think some of their party ideas sound a tiny bit boring, and I know that my kids would never see a birthday walk as a great way to celebrate their birthday (unless you make it into an exciting themed scavenger extravaganza, which I'm afraid would miss the point), I do really like the idea of setting lower expectations (I mean, where could you possibly go after Club Libby Lu???). There had to be a way to make it fun and simple. So I decided to try a variation on Tali, whose newest idea involved inviting ten three and four year old girls for a slumber party (the horror, the horror!).

"How about you invite one friend over for a birthday playdate," I said, expecting an immediate rejection, but not getting one, so I continued. "You guys can get in your jammies, have a pizza dinner and birthday cake, and maybe we can make bracelets and play with your dolls. And then when it's time for bed, your friend's parents can come pick her up." No mention of goody bags, themes, or presents, and I held my breath...

Tali looked at me thoughtfully for a second and then said, "That's a great idea, Mommy. I can't wait," and then went back to playing.

When I recovered from the shock of how easy it was to get out of having a huge party, I was thrilled. This year, there wouldn't be any racing around to get invitations out, or putting together goody bags that were exciting, yet inexpensive, or finding just the right theme or decorations. And it's not that I don't love a good party, or don't secretly want to give my kid anything her sassy little heart desires, or even that I don't really enjoy going to those parties sometimes. But at this point in my life, and my four year old's life, I'm overjoyed that I actually get to spend her birthday with her, not running around crazy trying to make a party work, trying to make sure we don't lose any of her friends or breaking up a fight over who has the better goody bag.

Instead, I get to hang out with my lovely girl and enjoy her special day with her. And I'll especially enjoy the fact that we were able to stave off Club Libby Lu for another year...

the cool kids

Last Sunday we were sitting around the living room, listening to music and reading the NY Times and just generally having a very pleasant time.

"Hey, I really like this music," I say to B. "Who is it?"

"Jack Johnson," B says, not looking up from the paper. Samuel was singing along and Talia was strumming the guitar, pretending to play along. I was thinking to myself that our kids were really cool, and how great was it that they were sophisticated enough to enjoy our music. I mean, these kids listen to Citizen Cope to fall asleep.

"This sounds so familiar," I say, after a few songs. "But I really like it. Why do I know this?"

"Soundtrack to Curious George," B. says smiling, still reading his paper.

At least the kids are cool...

we've youtubed...

Naomi wants to share her thoughts about how yummy it is to be seven months old...

much to be thankful for...

on good manners...

Tonight at dinner, I had to ask Samuel three times to use good manners and eat with his fork--not his fingers. Finally, he looked at me and asked, "Why do we need to act all royal and have such good manners? Is it Veteran's Day or something?"

a night out for the old lady...

I broke out on my own tonight after telling B that I couldn't make it one more night without some time that didn't involve babies that won't go to anyone else, children who won't go to bed, evening prep to get Samuel ready for school tomorrow (so that he can be the best, smartest first grader in the history of first graders), or that behemoth pile of laundry at the bottom of the basement stairs.

Since I couldn't find anyone else to go out with me (things are much different these days, I guess. All my friends are so incredibly responsible...), I decided I'd go to the bookstore and just browse and then take myself out for sushi, which is what I always want when I go out to eat.

So, I'm at B&N, browsing and checking out what my favorite writers have come out with lately (since it's been an eternity since I've actually browsed through a bookstore--and no, I'm not counting the kid section), and then I check to see if any of my old professors, friends, and colleagues have published anything (or anything new). And then I see this book written by an old co-worker about a failed relationship with another old co-worker and I can pretty much recognize all of the major characters. I should feel happy for her that she turned this bad breakup into a novel, thus launching her literary career, but I don't because I'm insanely jealous. I find myself thinking, 'What have I been doing with my life? Why haven't I been writing?' I'm just as good a writer as this girl, but I did not write a novel. I don't even write much these days, and I've been putting together different variations of the same short story for about two years. Okay, five years. The only piece I've actually finished recently was a poem I wrote in Italy last year that I thought was pretty good, but then I lost it. Seriously. It was in a journal and I lost it. The one piece.

Granted, I have been a bit busy lately with this whole growing a family thing and sleep deprivation has left me partially brain dead. So to make myself feel better, I buy this year's Best American Short Stories of 2006. I take myself to the sushi place, get a beer and some spicy tuna rolls, and start reading the anthology. The first three stories I thumb to are about children. Not about adults raising children, but from the perspective of kids. It's the quintessential growing up story from the perspective of every writer ever. The first two were good pieces--I liked them. But, I feel like I've been reading these over and over. I want to read about adults. I desperately want to read something that's inspiring or enlightening. Maybe it's just the timing since I have so many things going on in my life right now, or maybe it's because I'm still feeling bitter about the bad relationship book, or maybe it's frustration that I just did not find a good book on my one night out, but I'm crabby. Where are all the good books about people with families going about their boring, but meaningful lives?

I finish my beer and my sushi and go home. It's 10 o'clock, but Tali is still up and I hear her little footsteps into the hall as close as she can get without me seeing her, so I go up to say goodnight. She's got the huge volume of The Complete Curious George under her arm and tells me, "Oh Mama, I'm so glad you're here because I want to show you my favorite something about George." And after an evening away, I feel no frustration at all that she's still awake and out of bed, or even that instead of staying in her room, she's been sitting in my bed and "keeping it warm." And it occurs to me that maybe the reason there isn't a best selling novel, or even a memoir about kids staying up too late and their parents not minding after a night out is because maybe it is a bit boring. But then, maybe boring isn't so bad.

And there's still time to write that novel... What a difference a few hours can make.