Random

1. I was wrong when I told the doctor that the cut on my hand hurt worse than anything since childbirth. The yeast infection I got when nursing Barak hurt worse than the hand. Just for the record.

2. You know what to do with limp celery, don't you? Cut off the bottoms and put the stalks in a glass of water, like flowers. Doesn't everyone know that? I thought so, but a big eater of celery did not know this so maybe it is a secret I should share.

3. Iyyar has not had a bath since Thursday. He smells like cheese. He smells like very smelly cheese.

4. Barak pooped in the potty yesterday. That part was great. The part that wasn't great was that he started pooping in his room. Without a diaper. Then he realized that he wasn't supposed to poop on the floor (my screaming "NO! NO! NO!" probably had something to do with that) and started running toward the bathroom. Pooping as he went. (How is that possible?!) By the time I got him up on the toilet, there was poop on the floor in his room, the floor of the hall, on my shoe, on the bathroom floor, on the side of the toilet and all over him. And oh yeah, it was Shabbos, so no hot water and no baths. By the time I got it all cleaned up (and bleached, and had changed out of my only shabbos outfit that fits, because I sure as heck wasn't wearing it anywhere) I was thinking dark thoughts indeed. That was when Barak slid off the potty, pointed inside, and proudly announced "Poop potty! Cookie please!"

What could I do? I gave him a cookie.

5. How am I supposed to have a spiritual experience on Rosh Hashana? Please tell me. Does anybody out there with little kids manage it? Shul is out of the question. You're lucky if you get to hear shofar. It's all about cooking, cleaning, trying to keep the kids entertained and presentable, and cleaning up after everyone too young or too, er, distracted to clean up after himself (um, I meant, themselves. Not pointing fingers at any particular gender or anything. Besides, the only female in the house is the cat, and to be fair, MHH deals with the litterbox, because he's holy that way. If distracted.) Where was I? Oh yeah. Does anybody out there with little kids, but no kids big enough to help with them, ever actually a) make it to shul, b) daven or c) devote any significant time or spiritual energy to, oh, teshuva or anything? Do you?

6. The ants are out of control. I need to get traps down. I got a few but they make me nervous with the kids. I have to figure out a way, because after we ate in the living room on Shabbos and I did not sweep till this morning, there were SWARMS of them on every crumb of challah. It was vile.

7. This is the cute thing Barak did after Shabbos lunch. Our guests, their kids, and the rest of us (me, MHH, his father and our kids) were all milling around the house, having benched but not quite moving on. The table was still set up, but mostly cleared. The basket of benchers and the kiddush cup were still there. Barak, quietly, so as not to draw attention to himself, climbed up into MHH's seat and took the kiddush cup. Looked at it intently. Opened a bencher, and intoned, "Shabbos. Ad'nai elokainu. Amen."* Then he slid down from his chair, ran off, and yelled, "Gotta go to shul!" I guess that's the kitzer version of his father's Shabbos, so far as he's concerned. (*Jacque: That's "Sabbath. God. Amen!")