Family

The other week my daughter and I went grocery shopping together. In the pasta aisle (duh) I met a cousin of mine and we chatted.

"Mommy, who was that Mommy that you were talking to?"

"That's my cousin, sweetie."

"Your cousin? How come she never comes to our house?"

"Oh," I answered, "We're not so close."

That comment was, perhaps, my greatest Motherly Lie.

This past weekend my mother's extended family gathered together for our first family reunion, commemorating sixteen years since my maternal grandmother's passing. I don't know how to describe the joy, the laughter, the love; it was family. We shared some tears, some sniffles, some deep thoughts; but mostly we celebrated.

We celebrated the legacy my grandmother left behind. We celebrated her life, her lessons, her focus. We celebrated the beauty of our too-many-too-count growing families.

I was young when my grandmother passed and I don't have many tangible memories of her. (Although, as my relatives stood up and shared their memories of her, I could have sworn they were talking about my own mother.) I didn't share my strongest memory of her because it occurred when I came marching through her house in a pre-teen (is that tweenage?) huff, slammed the bathroom door behind me so I could wail in "privacy", and promptly dislocated a tile from her bathroom ceiling. My grandmother wasn't one to promote bouts of pointless tears, especially at the cost of her ceiling. I don't remember my grandmother reprimanding, me, however; perhaps that speaks louder than anything else.

(My mother did reprimand me.)

(And I deserved it.)

This weekend I learned about simplicity, love, generosity, encouragement, belief, and happiness. I learned about struggles, triumphs, obstacles, and success. I learned about my grandmother, my mother, myself, and my family. I close my eyes now and will these moments to stay with me forever.

So, my dear daughter, I was wrong. My cousin and I; we are very close. We share an unbreakable bond that was melded years ago and will last for eternity.

Why doesn't she come over? That might have more to do with the hundreds of cousins thing. But I'm going to make a greater effort now to help you feel how close we all are.

Positive Parenting

Eight.

Eight is the amount of times that we chased our baby toddler out of her big sister's bed last night and back into her own. This occurred well after eight O'Clock in the evening. This was not fun.

Maybe it's summer fever.

I read all the books, all the magazines, all the just-be-firm-and-say-it-positively articles and I try to put them into practice. My latest adventure has been trying to word things in a positive way, as in "Rivka sleeps in Rivka's bed," with a big fake smile, rather than the negative, teeth-clenched version, which sounds like "DONOTGOINTOCHAYA'SBED!"

So I tried to concentrate on my wording the other day.

I walked into Rivka's room (on grounds of suspicious silence) and found that every single book was removed from the book shelf and several had already undergone her rehabilitation efforts. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and carefully said:

"Rivka. Books are for reading. We treat books nicely. We read books and turn pages of books and we are so gentle with books."

When I opened my eyes she was in the kitchen, self-selecting snacks from the pantry.

So I tried again at bedtime.

"Rivka. I see that you are very excited (acknowledge her feelings). Bedtime is for sleeping (state the rule). I would like to see you lay down now (state the objective). It appears that you disagree with me (state the obvious). STOP JUMPING (give up.)

There is only one magical word that can stop Rivka mid-action and I (try to) use it sparingly.

That word is: raw.  She has seen my dramatic, full-fledged horrified panic when she once reached out to touch raw chicken and has been cured from ever attempting to touch something labeled "raw" (salmonella, hello!).

So far the disgusting water fountain at the park, the bucket of rain water near the front lawn, and the filter on the air conditioner have all tested positively for raw.

Any chance I can make her sister's bed turn raw at 7:00pm?

#MotherlyLies

By the way, this is what reasoning looks like when your toddler spent most of the night jumping out of bed.
Not to be confused with what reasoning looks like with a toddler at any time. 

Twenty-Four

Somewhere between I Can't Believe This and Finally, my baby is turning two. Thankfully I don't feel like I've just given birth yesterday but it still seems entirely too soon for a second birthday.

Twenty four months.

It's been twenty-four months since she was born, a rainy Friday morning. Months since we brought her home only hours later that afternoon. Months since we introduced her to her older sister, who was wholly unimpressed with our decision to create this new addition. Months since postpartum depression caught me like the plague and threatened to never let go. Months since I came out of the fog, smiled with my baby's smile, laughed with her first laugh, squealed and cheered on her first crawls, and full-out jigged when she began to walk (spoiler alert: rapidly progresses from wobbly to dangerously quicker than Mommy.)

Tonight my husband and I are sitting and reminiscing about time gone by. As we talk, it becomes painfully obvious that my memory has been significantly damaged by pregnancy, childbirth, and an unnatural amount of night feedings. (Sorry but there's nothing natural about feeding another human being when I'm supposed to be sleeping.)

It's hard to think that these Mommy Brains of mine might not remember all the things I love about my little girl. So here are twenty-four of them that I never want to forget:

1. The way she climbs out of her crib in the morning and barrels straight out of her room like a cannon.
2. The way she calls me "Mama" in a baby voice, when she needs me to melt. 
3. The way she refuses to separate apples from other fruits. Mommy, I want one apple-pear.
4. The way she throws in extra consonants into long words. Mommy, I want a banalanalalana.
5. The way she eats yogurt with her hands.
6. The way she brushes her hair with the bristles facing out. 
7. The way she swallows the (fluoride-free; relax) toothpaste and then spits out saliva. 
8. The way she runs, by kicking her feet forward and bouncing on the heels of her shoes.
9. The way she smiles for a picture, by tilting her head and blinking rapidly.
10. The way she jumps off ledges without looking and then runs frightened from strangers.
11. The way she says "eweven." It comes after ten.
12. The way she beckons with her tiny little hands when she wants you to follow.
13. The way she bellows "SHHH!" when she's hiding.
14. The way she cheers for her accomplishments. Even the ones that follow my desperate cry of "No!" Like when she jumps off the back of the couch. Or swings off the table. 
15. The way she wiggles all of her fingers when she tries to hold up just two.
16. The way she holds out her hand and says, "Stop!" when you're going too fast. 
17. The way she pronounces her name as Rishka.
18. The way she sings Happy Birthday to herself nearly every morning.
19. The way she swings off the counters and climbs onto nearly any surface. 
20. The way she opens the refrigerator and helps herself to its contents. 
21. The way she puts soggy cereal back in the box when she's decided she's had enough.
22. The way she puts her face directly into mine when she wants my attention.
23. The way she watches men working out in the park and then proceeds to work out with them. 
24. And G-d knows why, but the way we found her in her crib tonight. Sleeping peacefully in her birthday suit.

The hours between 4:30 and 6:30 every night feel like an eternity each time around, but somehow it is still hard to believe that all this time has passed.

Happy Birthday Rivka! 

Here's to another year.

Full throttle. 

Living-In-Brooklyn Milestones

I Killed a Cockroach Before Breakfast and Other Living-In-Brooklyn Milestones

Table of Contempts

Chapter 1: Parking Tickets are Part of my Monthly Budget.
Chapter 2: I Refuse to Watch Ratatouille.
Chapter 3: I Don't Really Know the Difference Between the Upper and Lower Ends of Manhattan. But I Can Tell You Which Trains to Take.
Chapter 4: I Pay More for Rent Than I Do For...Anything.
Chapter 5: Cement + Swingset = Park.
Chapter 6: Pigeons are Only Afraid of People in Other Cities.
Chapter 7: Um...Sure, New Yorkers Have a Real Inclination for Ice Cream at 3:00am.
Chapter 8: Brooklyn Mice can Outsmart Mouse Traps.
Chapter 9: What Sun?
Chapter 10: I Killed a Cockroach Before Breakfast.

But I told my kids that the Raid just put him to sleep. Cockroaches don't belong in our house, I told them, so I'm putting him to sleep and putting him in the garbage. And then the garbage truck will take him to where he is supposed to live.

I didn't want to pass on my cockroach fears. So we all said hi to the dead sleeping cockroach.

And now my toddler looks for cockroaches every morning. Her face lights up as she imagines saying hello to her friend with the ugly, huge, ugly, huge, and also ugly, antennas. I tried explaining that the cockroach only came around because the kitchen floor had been partially taken out to be fixed.

She's still looking for the cockroach.

Should I be proud that I am raising open-minded children with an appreciation for nature?

Or recognize that I have created a monster.

Pass the Raid wine.

Conscious UnPesaching

On Friday afternoon my daughter walked into the house with a chocolate wafer that she received at a party in school.

"I have to eat this over the garbage," she said.

I looked at her. And laughed.

"Not in this house, you don't. This place isn't a drop ready for Pesach, kiddo. You can eat that where you stand!"

It appears that I was so busy worrying over the past  few weeks (as well as working and studying for finals), that I never actually got around to cleaning the house. Which is nice. A very wise woman told me that Pesach is only one week long (give or take), so we don't need to stretch it any longer. That sounds healthy.

And so, it is with this in mind that I inform you of my decision to Consciously Unpesach.

Conscious Unpesaching

It is with a heart full of relief and a tiny drop of apprehension that I have decided to push off Pesach preparations. I have been working hard for well over a few weeks to see what might have been possible with regard to cleaning and cooking and the conclusion is that too much organization isn't healthy. And so while one part of my home is ready, the rest remains carefree and crumbful. I am first and foremost mother to two adorable, rambunctious, walking-chometz little girls who do not have school for the next few weeks. It is my greatest wish to keep them happy and my greatest hope that the rain will go away, the sun will come out, and the park will save us.


Ps. Of course I'm going to change my mind later today.
Pps. But I'm serious about the rain thing.

#6DaysUntilPassover

My Favorite (Pesach) Things

Torching the counters till chometz is smitten

New water kettles and new oven mittens

Brown paper matzah bags tied up with string

This is why Pesach makes my head ring

Idaho potatoes but no apple strudel

Chicken and veggies, no shnitzel, no noodles

Wild kids that miss all their chometzdik things

This is why Pesach makes my head ring

Girls need new dresses, my bank needs more stashes

Searching for chometz, burn it to ashes

Thankfully wine to the seder we bring

This is why Pesach makes my head ring

When the cleaning lady, calls to cancel

And the job becomes mine

I simply remember my chocolate bars

And then I don't even whine...

Sorta.

#25DaysUntilPassover

(Adapted from http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E3aBB-J9vhg)

Let the Countdown Begin

On Shabbos afternoon my daughter and I make our way to the home of my wise eldest brother and his also wise, super-organized wife. We are going over to say hi. Also, I want a sneak peek at her Pesach lists.

This year will be the first year that I make Pesach. And I don't even know what the term "make Pesach" really means. Which should give you an idea of the compassionate head shaking my brother and sister-in-law engage in as I ask my newbie questions.

"Okay, guys, so should I be freaking out? 'Cause I feel really calm about this and I'm guessing that it might be because I don't know what I'm getting myself into."

They smile at me. My sister-in-law says, "There's no reason to panic. I have all these lists prepared and you can adapt them to what you will need. Here is the cleaning schedule that I follow, the shopping list with the amounts that work for our family, and the cooking schedule."

My heart rate increases significantly. "Wait, there's shopping, cleaning AND cooking?"

My brother looks at my quizzically, "Are you wheezing?" he asks. I deny the allegations. I am not wheezing. I am so totally fine with this. I laugh.

"Of COURSE there is shopping, cleaning, and cooking, guys! I was just kidding around. Okay, so let's talk about the food for a second here. Where do you buy everything? Wait, where do you KEEP everything? I don't have space in my house for boxes of fruits and vegetables! Should I keep them on the porch? No, I can't keep them on the porch. Where do you put your food on Pesach? What am I going to do? I need a garage like my mother has! She puts her boxes of fruits and vegetables in the cool garage and then she doesn't have to -----"

"CALM. DOWN."

I nod meekly. Out of the corner of my watering eye I can see my brother searching for an inhaler or a paper bag. I wave the gesture away. I am so totally fine with this.

My sister-in-law reminds me that I live in a place with plenty of Kosher L'Pesach stores. I do not have to stock up beforehand on all the food we will eat for an entire week.

Oh.

"Oh thank goodness guys, this is going to be much easier than I thought. I don't really have to do any shopping in advance now, right?" I think my sister-in-law is holding her head in her hands now but it's hard to see because my eyes are starting to roll back into my head.

They're kind to me, my family. And this is going to be so totally fine.

And probably I was just tired that day. Because I am not panicking about this holiday. I can clean my house, right? And what's so difficult about buying a few new appliances? And the cooking...I mean, I can manage to whip up fruit-meat-nut-egg-chicken-potato smoothies for 8 days, right?

Let the countdown begin. #36DaysUntilPassover