I am a strong and capable woman. I take care of my kids. I take of my household. And I do it all with a smile! Yes! I am capable and strong! I am woman! Hear me roar!
Meow. meow moew moew.
No, really.
My husband left to America on business for a week and I have thus far eaten a box of candy, not gone to the gym, ran my fingers idly through the dirty laundry, cast a disinterested gaze over the piles of dirty dishes, and woke up every 15 minutes at night with a start at the silence in the bed next to mine, saying, "what was that?"
I am tired. My house is a mess. My kids are painting on the walls as we speak and eating leftover breakfast for lunch. I am eating a bag of lettuce since that is all I can stomach after The Candy Incident.
Wah. You don't have to feel bad for me; I feel bad enough for myself.
But, it is enough! Pull yourself together, girl! Turn on some music, pull out the broom, and clean and dance with your babies and dust-mites.
Although I am torn. Because I heard that if you let your dust-mites get big enough, they make very good, very quiet, low-maintainence pets. Then maybe I can cuddle up with one and finally fall into a good, deep sleep.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Of Wailing Walls
Princess has been creating her very own swimming pool out of her own tears lately.
I have lost track of the amount of times that she'll cry in the length of one day. Our dialogues seem to go like this:
Princess: Ima, can I have a cookie for breakfast?
Me: Um. Um? No? We do not and have never eaten cookies for breakfast? Sweetie?
Princess: But--but--BUT--Ima! IwannacookieforbreakfastYOUNEVERLETMEHAVEACOOKIEFORBREAKFAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAST! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!
This intelligent and thought-provoking dialogue and other similiar ones usually end with me putting myself into time out.
The other day, being slighly suicidal, I took my girls to the kotel with a friend and her three kids. 5 kids + 2 mommies on the number 2 bus = you do the math. Chaos theory come to life.
We made it, we took turns davening, then let the kds run around in the square, wide-eyed at the beautiful kallas and the more colorful tourists. We fed them a run-around dinner, then, as the sky darkened and the crowds thinned, started heading back to the bus.
The bus pulled up, and opened up its back doors. I held Princess' hand in one hand, Coco-pop's in the other, and the carriage--oh, oops, the carriage! Halfway in her ascent up the stairs, I dropped Princess' hand to grope for the carriage. Got it!
And then, it happened. Well, nothing really happened, to me or to most passengers ascending the stairs, so I will give it to you from Princess' percpective:
I am going up the stairs, holding Ima's hand tightly. So many people--cannot let go of her hand or I might never see her again. Hey--Ima!--where are you? Don't let
go! Need to turn around, look for her--the doors! They are CLOSING--Ima, is leaving me ALL ALONE FOREVER FOR THE REST OF MY WRETCHED EXISTANCE!
'K, back to me. What happened was, as I turned to grab the stroller, the doors started closing. I didn't blink, just hammered on the door and yelled out somewhat indelicately, "Nahag, regah!" The doors re-opened, I entered with Coco-pop and the carriage, and was greeted by a screaming, white-faced Princess.
She sat on my lap and held my hand all the way home.
Me: Princess, look at that huge tree out your window!
Princess: Mmmmm.
Me: Look, it must be a hundred years old!
Princess: DON'T let go of my hand!
That night, as I was putting her in, we spoke about it. And I got a chilling revelation about how Princess, my smart, perhaps too-smart 4 and a half year old oldest thinks.
"I thought that I was going to be all alone on the bus because I couldn't figure out how to open the door."
"But sweetie, you did not have to try to figure it out. Ima got the door open."
"I didn't know what to do. Because the door was too heavy for me."
"Ima would never ever ever leave you alone on the bus, right?"
"Right. But I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to open the door."
And that's when I realized what she was getting at, what it was All About.
Princess doesn't see me as her Knight In Shining Armor. She doesn't thinlk that I could rescue her. She thought that the whole thing, the whole problem, and therefore the whole solution, was on her shoulders. She was the only one in control.
But love, I wanted to tell her, you are only 4 and a half years old! You do not need to come up with the answers yet; you should look to me for all of them. That is a heavy heavy weight that you carry, little girl. Why won't you let me lift it for you?
Instead, I said, "Princess, it's Ima's problem. Not yours. Ima's. Ima is the one who has to figure out what to do. Not you. Ima. Ima saw the door closing. Ima hammered on the door. The driver opened the door. Your job was to just sit and wait."
She let out a long suddering breath, and hugged me for a few millenium.
I have to keep reminding her.
I have to keep reminding myself.
Hashem li, lo irah.
I have lost track of the amount of times that she'll cry in the length of one day. Our dialogues seem to go like this:
Princess: Ima, can I have a cookie for breakfast?
Me: Um. Um? No? We do not and have never eaten cookies for breakfast? Sweetie?
Princess: But--but--BUT--Ima! IwannacookieforbreakfastYOUNEVERLETMEHAVEACOOKIEFORBREAKFAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAST! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!
This intelligent and thought-provoking dialogue and other similiar ones usually end with me putting myself into time out.
The other day, being slighly suicidal, I took my girls to the kotel with a friend and her three kids. 5 kids + 2 mommies on the number 2 bus = you do the math. Chaos theory come to life.
We made it, we took turns davening, then let the kds run around in the square, wide-eyed at the beautiful kallas and the more colorful tourists. We fed them a run-around dinner, then, as the sky darkened and the crowds thinned, started heading back to the bus.
The bus pulled up, and opened up its back doors. I held Princess' hand in one hand, Coco-pop's in the other, and the carriage--oh, oops, the carriage! Halfway in her ascent up the stairs, I dropped Princess' hand to grope for the carriage. Got it!
And then, it happened. Well, nothing really happened, to me or to most passengers ascending the stairs, so I will give it to you from Princess' percpective:
I am going up the stairs, holding Ima's hand tightly. So many people--cannot let go of her hand or I might never see her again. Hey--Ima!--where are you? Don't let
go! Need to turn around, look for her--the doors! They are CLOSING--Ima, is leaving me ALL ALONE FOREVER FOR THE REST OF MY WRETCHED EXISTANCE!
'K, back to me. What happened was, as I turned to grab the stroller, the doors started closing. I didn't blink, just hammered on the door and yelled out somewhat indelicately, "Nahag, regah!" The doors re-opened, I entered with Coco-pop and the carriage, and was greeted by a screaming, white-faced Princess.
She sat on my lap and held my hand all the way home.
Me: Princess, look at that huge tree out your window!
Princess: Mmmmm.
Me:
Princess: DON'T let go of my hand!
That night, as I was putting her in, we spoke about it. And I got a chilling revelation about how Princess, my smart, perhaps too-smart 4 and a half year old oldest thinks.
"I thought that I was going to be all alone on the bus because I couldn't figure out how to open the door."
"But sweetie, you did not have to try to figure it out. Ima got the door open."
"I didn't know what to do. Because the door was too heavy for me."
"Ima would never ever ever leave you alone on the bus, right?"
"Right. But I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to open the door."
And that's when I realized what she was getting at, what it was All About.
Princess doesn't see me as her Knight In Shining Armor. She doesn't thinlk that I could rescue her. She thought that the whole thing, the whole problem, and therefore the whole solution, was on her shoulders. She was the only one in control.
But love, I wanted to tell her, you are only 4 and a half years old! You do not need to come up with the answers yet; you should look to me for all of them. That is a heavy heavy weight that you carry, little girl. Why won't you let me lift it for you?
Instead, I said, "Princess, it's Ima's problem. Not yours. Ima's. Ima is the one who has to figure out what to do. Not you. Ima. Ima saw the door closing. Ima hammered on the door. The driver opened the door. Your job was to just sit and wait."
She let out a long suddering breath, and hugged me for a few millenium.
I have to keep reminding her.
I have to keep reminding myself.
Hashem li, lo irah.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Conversations
Princess: Ima, what kind of gan will I go to next year?
Me: Just like this year, but for older girls, because you will be bigger next year!
Princess: No, I mean what language will we learn next year, instead of Hebrew? Spanish?
----
Princess: Can you sing that song, Ima? About the beautiful morning?
Me: (warbling) "O what a beautiful mooooorning, O what a beautiful daaaay. I've got a beautiful feeeeeling, everything's going my way!"
Princess: Ima, you sang it wrong at the end. It's "everything's getting in my way!"
Me: Erm...
----
Princess: Ima, who's birthday is next?
Me: Abba's. It's right after chanuka.
Princess: Can we make a party?
Me: (stage whisper) Yes! But let's keep it a suprise. We'll have a cake, and balloons, and--
Princess: (not in a stage whisper) Okay! And pekalach! With wafers and a lolipop and popcorn! Abba! Abba! Abba, we are going to make you a party with cake and balloons and pekalach and also, it's going to be a suprise !
Me: Just like this year, but for older girls, because you will be bigger next year!
Princess: No, I mean what language will we learn next year, instead of Hebrew? Spanish?
----
Princess: Can you sing that song, Ima? About the beautiful morning?
Me: (warbling) "O what a beautiful mooooorning, O what a beautiful daaaay. I've got a beautiful feeeeeling, everything's going my way!"
Princess: Ima, you sang it wrong at the end. It's "everything's getting in my way!"
Me: Erm...
----
Princess: Ima, who's birthday is next?
Me: Abba's. It's right after chanuka.
Princess: Can we make a party?
Me: (stage whisper) Yes! But let's keep it a suprise. We'll have a cake, and balloons, and--
Princess: (not in a stage whisper) Okay! And pekalach! With wafers and a lolipop and popcorn! Abba! Abba! Abba, we are going to make you a party with cake and balloons and pekalach and also, it's going to be a suprise !
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
In Which I Open My Mouth To Insert My Foot
Oooookay.
So.
Outdoorsman, this is for you.
Because what I meant by not having anyone that I want to talk to in a 6,000 mile radius when I wrote that I have no one in a 6,000 mile radius that I want to talk to was that OF COURSE I have someone that I want to talk to in my 6,000 mile radius!
And that person is you, my beloved helpmeet! Because you are so wonderful and so charming and so captivating and so disarming! And you are funny and so witty and so delightful and so pretty!
Did I mention so witty?
Disarming?
I am flipping through the pages of my thesaurus at an alarming rate, darling.
All because there is nothing that I'd rather do than only talk to you. Because you. Are witty. And stuff.
So I googled! To find a poem that matches my feelings. I found this one:
Yes baby, I’m sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, ....! ! ! !
……and on top of that, I’m very sorry……! ! !
So.
Outdoorsman, this is for you.
Because what I meant by not having anyone that I want to talk to in a 6,000 mile radius when I wrote that I have no one in a 6,000 mile radius that I want to talk to was that OF COURSE I have someone that I want to talk to in my 6,000 mile radius!
And that person is you, my beloved helpmeet! Because you are so wonderful and so charming and so captivating and so disarming! And you are funny and so witty and so delightful and so pretty!
Did I mention so witty?
Disarming?
I am flipping through the pages of my thesaurus at an alarming rate, darling.
All because there is nothing that I'd rather do than only talk to you. Because you. Are witty. And stuff.
So I googled! To find a poem that matches my feelings. I found this one:
Yes baby, I’m sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, ....! ! ! !
……and on top of that, I’m very sorry……! ! !
Monday, December 7, 2009
Thrush
I held the medicine dropper up the light to ensure that Coco-pop had taken all of the medicine to my satisfaction. She hadn’t. I didn’t need to look at the dropper to realize that; the thick red liquid (‘cool-aid flavored! Babies love it!’) was running down her chin, dripping into her collar, and blending nicely with the ex-contents of her nose. She was doing her best, it seemed, to roll over and stain the blanket she was lying on. She was also squalling at the top of her lungs.
I stared at the fevered 2 year-old on the couch and the whole scene took on panoramic proportions until my glassy eyes took in the heaps of almost-sorted laundry, the coffee cups with hardened coffee dregs sitting on the table, almost hidden from view by the most random collection of items—why is the soup pot on the table, and is that an umbrella next to it? If those flowers were any deader, they would be coming back to life…oh, so that’s what smells like the dead rodent that I spent all morning jumping at the dust mites because of—and then it caught my eye. The scene retracted again. There was a small stain on my new skirt. It was red. I sniffed at it. It smelled like cool-aid.
Baby wipes are good for these types of situations.
Crying might be less so, although perhaps the chemical makeup of tears might work together to create a good cleanser. Scientific research of exactly this idea might have been in the back of my mind as I stared blindly at my bawling baby and joined in. The room, the baby, the dead flowers, and the stain all blurred.
It all blurred and became one. And so I cried about the stain. I cried about all my stained skirts and the skirts that were not stained because 2 years after the baby was born, they still didn’t fit me. I cried about my pettiness, not being happy enough with my beautiful children and the weight that I had lost, but always mourning my one-size-smaller skirts. And then sudden;ly I was crying that I do not have a freezer full of freshly baked cookies and cakes, but knowing full well that I also cry when I make them...trapped, trapped, trapped, with no car and a broken carriage. And 6,000 miles away from anyone that I really want to talk to. My sisters, my Ima, the comfort of laughing with them. And my Abba, my patient Abba with his beautiful smile the only expression that I’ve seen him with lately, painted in stark relief against the gauntness of his finely chiseled facial structure. I’m so happy that you are in Yerushalayim, his smile tells me. Even though I can never visit.
And I have a stupid stain
On my stupid skirt.
But not everything is big. I mean, sometimes it is okay to sweat the small stuff—or, at least cry about the small stuff—because the small stuff can be big, in such a small apartment and in such a small country.
Which can work both ways, you know. Because a few minutes later, when Coco-pop, who had stopped howling abruptly to stare at me, bewildered, decided that Ima crying was the funniest thing that had happened all day and began giggling, I started laughing, too. Then I dropped the dropper, picked up my still-laughing daughter, and medicine-smeared cheeks and all, began dancing with her.
Then I changed my skirt and walked across the length of the ballroom and started making dinner.
I stared at the fevered 2 year-old on the couch and the whole scene took on panoramic proportions until my glassy eyes took in the heaps of almost-sorted laundry, the coffee cups with hardened coffee dregs sitting on the table, almost hidden from view by the most random collection of items—why is the soup pot on the table, and is that an umbrella next to it? If those flowers were any deader, they would be coming back to life…oh, so that’s what smells like the dead rodent that I spent all morning jumping at the dust mites because of—and then it caught my eye. The scene retracted again. There was a small stain on my new skirt. It was red. I sniffed at it. It smelled like cool-aid.
Baby wipes are good for these types of situations.
Crying might be less so, although perhaps the chemical makeup of tears might work together to create a good cleanser. Scientific research of exactly this idea might have been in the back of my mind as I stared blindly at my bawling baby and joined in. The room, the baby, the dead flowers, and the stain all blurred.
It all blurred and became one. And so I cried about the stain. I cried about all my stained skirts and the skirts that were not stained because 2 years after the baby was born, they still didn’t fit me. I cried about my pettiness, not being happy enough with my beautiful children and the weight that I had lost, but always mourning my one-size-smaller skirts. And then sudden;ly I was crying that I do not have a freezer full of freshly baked cookies and cakes, but knowing full well that I also cry when I make them...trapped, trapped, trapped, with no car and a broken carriage. And 6,000 miles away from anyone that I really want to talk to. My sisters, my Ima, the comfort of laughing with them. And my Abba, my patient Abba with his beautiful smile the only expression that I’ve seen him with lately, painted in stark relief against the gauntness of his finely chiseled facial structure. I’m so happy that you are in Yerushalayim, his smile tells me. Even though I can never visit.
And I have a stupid stain
On my stupid skirt.
But not everything is big. I mean, sometimes it is okay to sweat the small stuff—or, at least cry about the small stuff—because the small stuff can be big, in such a small apartment and in such a small country.
Which can work both ways, you know. Because a few minutes later, when Coco-pop, who had stopped howling abruptly to stare at me, bewildered, decided that Ima crying was the funniest thing that had happened all day and began giggling, I started laughing, too. Then I dropped the dropper, picked up my still-laughing daughter, and medicine-smeared cheeks and all, began dancing with her.
Then I changed my skirt and walked across the length of the ballroom and started making dinner.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Living Large
I am so cold.
I wake up cold and I go to sleep cold and in the middle of the day? I'm cold.
Did I mention that I'm cold?
Because if I didn't, I do want you to know that on a scale of one to ten of cold? I'm FREEZING. Which is pretty cold.
It's this season that my indignation rises like gorge in my throat, and I think, hey, you know? I'm American, damnit. I should be comfortable AT ALL TIMES. I should be in an artificial 75 degrees, always.
And then I have to remind myself about how wonderful it is to be in touch with the weather as it actually is, because it's real. Just like having fruit in it's proper season, and having some things that are not sanitized for your own protection and double wrapped with politeness and orderliness. There is something special, just because it's real, about experiencing life just as it is, as it comes.
I asked Princess what she wants for Chanuka. Her eyes grew big with all of her wildest imaginings. Then she blurted, "Stickers! And a treat."
They are so unspoiled, so blessed, my little girls.
It's really living, living in this country.
But wouldn't it be nice if the real living can be done just a leeeeetle warmer?
I wake up cold and I go to sleep cold and in the middle of the day? I'm cold.
Did I mention that I'm cold?
Because if I didn't, I do want you to know that on a scale of one to ten of cold? I'm FREEZING. Which is pretty cold.
It's this season that my indignation rises like gorge in my throat, and I think, hey, you know? I'm American, damnit. I should be comfortable AT ALL TIMES. I should be in an artificial 75 degrees, always.
And then I have to remind myself about how wonderful it is to be in touch with the weather as it actually is, because it's real. Just like having fruit in it's proper season, and having some things that are not sanitized for your own protection and double wrapped with politeness and orderliness. There is something special, just because it's real, about experiencing life just as it is, as it comes.
I asked Princess what she wants for Chanuka. Her eyes grew big with all of her wildest imaginings. Then she blurted, "Stickers! And a treat."
They are so unspoiled, so blessed, my little girls.
It's really living, living in this country.
But wouldn't it be nice if the real living can be done just a leeeeetle warmer?
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Flood This Forum!
Okay. I really really need feedback on this. I wrote out the speech in long copy that i will be giving at a seminary tomorrow. The principal asked me to speak about growing up with a sick father, and the tools that I gained to deal with it. So. I wrote it, and added some articles a the end to read together. Problem is--in real life, I am actually a really private person. Which is why this blog is so important to me, and why this speech to so hard for me. I can't even rehearse it in front of a friend and get feedback, because...I'm so shyyyyyyy,you see. Not really, but I don't like when people but me into a box. I am what you see, not my past. So. Anyway. Point is, I need your help. My husband says that it's great, but I need female imput. And impartial imput, since he also thinks I look great right after labor.
Here 'tis:
Edited: I decided to delete the speech in the end. I wasn't comfortable having it up, and also, I thought, if a girl from the seminary googles one of theartivles I used and finds this blog...me not be happy. So. It's gone. I have decided, and I am THE ULTIMATE POWER ON THIS BLOG! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Here 'tis:
Edited: I decided to delete the speech in the end. I wasn't comfortable having it up, and also, I thought, if a girl from the seminary googles one of theartivles I used and finds this blog...me not be happy. So. It's gone. I have decided, and I am THE ULTIMATE POWER ON THIS BLOG! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
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