This is what's in the freezer downstairs, mostly courtesy of Deb's visit with her daughter last week:
-six doughless potato knishes
-three carrot kugels
-four pans of stuffed cabbage
-two pans of meatloaf
-a lot of challah
-some chicken soup (not enough, but it'll have to do)
In the fridge:
-parve cream of asparagus soup
-the corn/black bean salad I always make
Cooling on the table:
-one large and three small onion kugels
-a big pan of peanut butter rice krispie treats (I don't like them, but certain husbands do)
-one big pan and two small pans of chocolate rice krispie treats (yum!)
To be made tomorrow:
-round raisin challah
-chicken schnitzel--I was going to do it tonight but the chicken isn't thawed yet
-gefilte fish (stick in oven and bake)
-a castle cake, if I have time, which I recognize I may not. I've got plenty of dessert (see above) but castle cakes are a big deal around here. I even bought some candy to decorate one with.
Paper goods, paper towels, grape juice and seltzer: check. Pomegratates, kiwis and mangos for new fruit: check. Elmo paper plates for the preschool set: check. Candy for shofar-blowing pekelach purposes: check. MHH is planning a supermarket run with Barak, via bus, tomorrow morning to pick up the necessary supply of Shabbos yogurts, without which no yom tov can be complete. He may also get a roast; I was going to buy one last week, cheaped out, and then regretted it; Rosh Hashana comes once a year and I can afford one roast a year. Vicky, B"H, is scheduled to come at 1 tomorrow, so my plan of attack is to finish cooking in the morning while Asnat is here, work in the afternoon while MHH is home, and, ideally, turn off my computer at 5 pm to a clean house full of yummy food.
Hey, a girl can dream, right?
Gmar chasima tova, everyone. Only good things.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Flowers
Does it ever happen to you that you remember something suddenly, some little thing you hadn't thought of in years?
My grandmother loves flowers. When she still had her house, she used to plant flowers all along the side of her house and on the other side of the little patch of grass between that and the fence. Usually she had impatiens, or the Hungarian equivalent. When I was in college, I discovered a greeting card that was essentially a two-page pop-up book of a flower arrangement. They had a few different designs, different flowers--violets, roses, whatever. For me at the time, they weren't so cheap, but I loved them so I bought them anyway. I sent one whenever I thought of it and the next time I visited found she'd kept them all; they were displayed in her china closet in the kitchen, next to the dusty origami birds I'd made in junior high. I haven't seen those cards in years. I wonder if anyone still makes them.
When I had just moved to England, in September of 1998, I saw bags of flower bulbs--daffodils and tulips--for sale in front of a store, ten bulbs for a pound (meaning, a pound in money). I thought that was pretty cheap and briefly considered planting some in front of my new home, then discarded the idea--I didn' t even have a spade, and clearly nothing had been planted there in years. Instead, I bought three bags of tulip bulbs and a bag of daffodil bulbs and brought them to my grandmother. I went that time by bus--yes, you can take the bus from Birmingham to Budapest, but I wouldn't say I'd recommend it. She was delighted, and got them in the ground before I left. The next time I visited, in December, she said I'd have to come back to see them. I said I didn't know when that would be, but when I got back to England I bought a disposable camera and mailed it to her so she could take pictures. I brought the camera back with me when I came, late that May, for a two-day trip I managed to attach to a job interview I had in Vienna. When I developed the film, it was 24 pictures, one after the other, of daffodils and tulips, from every angle.
I wish I'd kept some of them.
My grandmother loves flowers. When she still had her house, she used to plant flowers all along the side of her house and on the other side of the little patch of grass between that and the fence. Usually she had impatiens, or the Hungarian equivalent. When I was in college, I discovered a greeting card that was essentially a two-page pop-up book of a flower arrangement. They had a few different designs, different flowers--violets, roses, whatever. For me at the time, they weren't so cheap, but I loved them so I bought them anyway. I sent one whenever I thought of it and the next time I visited found she'd kept them all; they were displayed in her china closet in the kitchen, next to the dusty origami birds I'd made in junior high. I haven't seen those cards in years. I wonder if anyone still makes them.
When I had just moved to England, in September of 1998, I saw bags of flower bulbs--daffodils and tulips--for sale in front of a store, ten bulbs for a pound (meaning, a pound in money). I thought that was pretty cheap and briefly considered planting some in front of my new home, then discarded the idea--I didn' t even have a spade, and clearly nothing had been planted there in years. Instead, I bought three bags of tulip bulbs and a bag of daffodil bulbs and brought them to my grandmother. I went that time by bus--yes, you can take the bus from Birmingham to Budapest, but I wouldn't say I'd recommend it. She was delighted, and got them in the ground before I left. The next time I visited, in December, she said I'd have to come back to see them. I said I didn't know when that would be, but when I got back to England I bought a disposable camera and mailed it to her so she could take pictures. I brought the camera back with me when I came, late that May, for a two-day trip I managed to attach to a job interview I had in Vienna. When I developed the film, it was 24 pictures, one after the other, of daffodils and tulips, from every angle.
I wish I'd kept some of them.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
The deed is done
A very happy new spinner is driving away with my Lendrum right now, and there is a pile of $20 bills on my desk. I'm feeling slightly more traumatized than I thought I would--I was really okay with seeing the loom go but the wheel is a different thing. Oh well. I do have my Hall to console me, as well as an incredibly gorgeous ball of autumn-colored roving that just arrived yesterday from Grandma E...
What they're up to these days
A long-overdue roundup:
1. Avtalyon is almost eight months old. He's been seriously crawling for the last couple of weeks, up on all fours with his tummy off the ground and moving at a pretty impressive speed. He's also started pulling up to stand (last week sometime) and now when I come get him in his crib he's usually standing up, which adds a certain pitifulness to the wails. This ability also brings us into the land of Baby Menace. Ooh, the plastic bag in the garbage can looks tasty! Hey, I bet I can pull myself up on that rocker footstool! Think I can haul this 50-lb Gemara off the shelf?
He loves loves loves the baby swings at the park. Barak hated them, Iyyar thought they were okay, but Avtalyon adores them; he'll dangle there happily, enjoying the view, or, if you swing him and stand in front of him pretending he's about to knock you over, screech with laughter. It's awesome. There's nothing better than a baby in a swing laughing with his whole body.
He's babbling, but mostly only when annoyed. He's eating bananas, rice cereal (which he LIKES--huwhat?), oatmeal, and of course Cheerios. Standard routine in the morning is plunking him in his booster with a few handfuls while I get the older kids breakfast; I'm sure some of them must get into his mouth but I find the rest in all kinds of places. So far as sleep, it's B"H been better the last couple of nights; he screamed a lot last week but since then has been going to sleep reasonably nicely at around 7, waking up twice, and waking up for the day in the vicinity of 6:15. I'll take it.
2. Iyyar is talking more and more. It's hilarious to listen to. You can sort of have conversations with him now, and sometimes they even make sense. My favorites happen after we drop Barak off with carpool at 8:10 and are on our way to his playgroup, which starts at 9; the intervening 50 minutes are my time for some exercise, errand-running, and quality time with Iyyar.
This morning we saw a garbage truck. "Hey, Iyyar, is that a garbage truck?"
Inquisitively: "Jarba?"
"Yeah, it's a garbage truck! Look, it's a blue one."
"Jarba! Put in!"
Or last week, when we passed a van with a somewhat smashed-in side (still driveable, apparently, because we see it daily in different parking spots):
In a bereft tone: "Truck! Broken!"
"Yeah, the truck's broken."
Inquisitively: "Break it?"
"I guess someone did break it, yeah."
With relish: "Rip it!"
Er...
Since Jenny let him "drive" her car (read "climb around front seat while Jenny holds keys firmly in her hand and watches to be sure they don't put the car in neutral) his ambitions have been growing. He now points out vehicles he'd like to try out. Like, you know, pieces of heavy earthmoving equipment. "Backhoe! Drive it!" Then, "Jenjy?"
3. Barak LOVES school. He leaps out of bed in the morning and gets himself dressed with lightning speed; if he's not moving fast enough, a mere "Barak, do you want to go to school?" suffices to get him going. I don't hear much about what goes on there, other than the occasional "It was Fraidy's birthday" to explain the pekele, or, "We had an aleph-bais party" when he comes home with an aleph crown and unmistakable signs of lollipop consumption. They don't start doing the parsha until after yom tov, but someone is coming in to blow shofar for them every morning and he was definitely into that. He gets a newsletter home every week, so I know what they're learning, and occasionally I surprise him by singing the songs I know he's learning in school. He clearly wonders how I know them, since I'm not anywhere to be seen in his class.
Dovie, fortunately, is not in his class this year; a few other boys from last year are, though, which is nice. Barak's been playing more with Iyyar, and even with Avtalyon sometimes; he likes to hold Avtalyon but needs supervision. His favorite thing lately has been building houses with the cushions of our blue couch (this is why $65 yard-sale couches are the bomb--who cares if they get messed up?) The other day in a flash of inspiration I brought out a blue sheet. "Here, put this on the roof," I told him. "It's tar paper." Barak's eyes simultaneously lit up and got that serious worker-man look. I grabbed two corners, he grabbed the other two, and I lifted it up and over the couch construction site. Last I looked in there, he'd actually furnished his house: there are books, some things made out of Clicks, and several beanie babies in residence. They look comfy, too.
1. Avtalyon is almost eight months old. He's been seriously crawling for the last couple of weeks, up on all fours with his tummy off the ground and moving at a pretty impressive speed. He's also started pulling up to stand (last week sometime) and now when I come get him in his crib he's usually standing up, which adds a certain pitifulness to the wails. This ability also brings us into the land of Baby Menace. Ooh, the plastic bag in the garbage can looks tasty! Hey, I bet I can pull myself up on that rocker footstool! Think I can haul this 50-lb Gemara off the shelf?
He loves loves loves the baby swings at the park. Barak hated them, Iyyar thought they were okay, but Avtalyon adores them; he'll dangle there happily, enjoying the view, or, if you swing him and stand in front of him pretending he's about to knock you over, screech with laughter. It's awesome. There's nothing better than a baby in a swing laughing with his whole body.
He's babbling, but mostly only when annoyed. He's eating bananas, rice cereal (which he LIKES--huwhat?), oatmeal, and of course Cheerios. Standard routine in the morning is plunking him in his booster with a few handfuls while I get the older kids breakfast; I'm sure some of them must get into his mouth but I find the rest in all kinds of places. So far as sleep, it's B"H been better the last couple of nights; he screamed a lot last week but since then has been going to sleep reasonably nicely at around 7, waking up twice, and waking up for the day in the vicinity of 6:15. I'll take it.
2. Iyyar is talking more and more. It's hilarious to listen to. You can sort of have conversations with him now, and sometimes they even make sense. My favorites happen after we drop Barak off with carpool at 8:10 and are on our way to his playgroup, which starts at 9; the intervening 50 minutes are my time for some exercise, errand-running, and quality time with Iyyar.
This morning we saw a garbage truck. "Hey, Iyyar, is that a garbage truck?"
Inquisitively: "Jarba?"
"Yeah, it's a garbage truck! Look, it's a blue one."
"Jarba! Put in!"
Or last week, when we passed a van with a somewhat smashed-in side (still driveable, apparently, because we see it daily in different parking spots):
In a bereft tone: "Truck! Broken!"
"Yeah, the truck's broken."
Inquisitively: "Break it?"
"I guess someone did break it, yeah."
With relish: "Rip it!"
Er...
Since Jenny let him "drive" her car (read "climb around front seat while Jenny holds keys firmly in her hand and watches to be sure they don't put the car in neutral) his ambitions have been growing. He now points out vehicles he'd like to try out. Like, you know, pieces of heavy earthmoving equipment. "Backhoe! Drive it!" Then, "Jenjy?"
3. Barak LOVES school. He leaps out of bed in the morning and gets himself dressed with lightning speed; if he's not moving fast enough, a mere "Barak, do you want to go to school?" suffices to get him going. I don't hear much about what goes on there, other than the occasional "It was Fraidy's birthday" to explain the pekele, or, "We had an aleph-bais party" when he comes home with an aleph crown and unmistakable signs of lollipop consumption. They don't start doing the parsha until after yom tov, but someone is coming in to blow shofar for them every morning and he was definitely into that. He gets a newsletter home every week, so I know what they're learning, and occasionally I surprise him by singing the songs I know he's learning in school. He clearly wonders how I know them, since I'm not anywhere to be seen in his class.
Dovie, fortunately, is not in his class this year; a few other boys from last year are, though, which is nice. Barak's been playing more with Iyyar, and even with Avtalyon sometimes; he likes to hold Avtalyon but needs supervision. His favorite thing lately has been building houses with the cushions of our blue couch (this is why $65 yard-sale couches are the bomb--who cares if they get messed up?) The other day in a flash of inspiration I brought out a blue sheet. "Here, put this on the roof," I told him. "It's tar paper." Barak's eyes simultaneously lit up and got that serious worker-man look. I grabbed two corners, he grabbed the other two, and I lifted it up and over the couch construction site. Last I looked in there, he'd actually furnished his house: there are books, some things made out of Clicks, and several beanie babies in residence. They look comfy, too.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Wanna buy a wheel?
I have, like many dedicated spinners, more than one wheel. I have a Lendrum double-treadle castle-style wheel, which I bought about a year after I learned to spin on an Ashford Traditional; and I have, um, a Norm Hall, which is the only inanimate object I can honestly say I love.
I bought both wheels in 1997. Once I bought the Hall, I didn't have much incentive to use the Lendrum. Add to this that the Lendrum was rather beautifully painted with lovely little flowers by a person I now try hard not to think about, and you have a situation where the Hall sees a lot of use, while the Lendrum has been hanging out in a closet in its custom bag for most of the last decade.
For a long time I thought I would never sell it, because it's much more portable than the Hall, and for sentimental reasons. But I don't have a guild anymore, and the sentiments attached to the wheel, these days, are more of a reason to sell it than to keep it.
So... wanna buy a wheel? It's got the regular and jumbo flyers, ten standard and two jumbo bobbins, the quill head, two fast flyers (why, I don't know), the lazy kate (with no sticks--I used skewers), a custom Fox Fibre bag by the Bag Lady, a hand-turned maple threading hook or two, and, oh yes, half a can of 3-in-1 oil.
I just put it together to make sure it all worked and it spins beautifully. So much so that now I'm thinking I don't really want to sell it. But I do (she tells herself bracingly)--I do. I've even posted it on ravelry.
And here it is:
I bought both wheels in 1997. Once I bought the Hall, I didn't have much incentive to use the Lendrum. Add to this that the Lendrum was rather beautifully painted with lovely little flowers by a person I now try hard not to think about, and you have a situation where the Hall sees a lot of use, while the Lendrum has been hanging out in a closet in its custom bag for most of the last decade.
For a long time I thought I would never sell it, because it's much more portable than the Hall, and for sentimental reasons. But I don't have a guild anymore, and the sentiments attached to the wheel, these days, are more of a reason to sell it than to keep it.
So... wanna buy a wheel? It's got the regular and jumbo flyers, ten standard and two jumbo bobbins, the quill head, two fast flyers (why, I don't know), the lazy kate (with no sticks--I used skewers), a custom Fox Fibre bag by the Bag Lady, a hand-turned maple threading hook or two, and, oh yes, half a can of 3-in-1 oil.
I just put it together to make sure it all worked and it spins beautifully. So much so that now I'm thinking I don't really want to sell it. But I do (she tells herself bracingly)--I do. I've even posted it on ravelry.
And here it is:
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Challah catastrophes
You'll notice that that's in the plural.
1. I add all the liquid ingredients for my challah (7 eggs, plus honey, sugar, oil etc.), all the dry ingredients less the flour, a little bit of flour, and start the mixer mixing. Only it doesn't mix--the mixer blade on my Bosch pops up. I turn off mixer, reach in to set the blade in correctly, and instead of setting it correctly I suddenly realize that the entire contents of the bowl are rapidly draining out the 1.5-inch-diameter hole at the bottom of the bowl, because the bolt that holds the blade assembly together was not in and fell out. So I now have all the liquid and whatever of the solid ingredients have dissolved, all over my floor.
2. After cleaning this up (which took a LONG time), I go to open bag of flour #2--only to see the inside of the bag festooned with webs. Because it's infested with bugs. Heavily, heavily infested. I waste some time sifting, then realize that this is never going to work because it's organic whole wheat and I'm sifting out half the flour and probably none of the insects. I toss entire $6.19 bag of flour into trash, and open bag of flour #3, which looks OK.
3. I hazard guesses at how much of which ingredients are missing from the challah, add them, and start the dough mixing again in my smaller Bosch bowl. Then I realize that the counter I have just scrubbed (salmonella, y'know) is again covered with raw eggs, because the wet ingredients are not being incorporated into the now hard and solid lump of dough that was left when I lost the liquid the first time.
4. I will not be defeated! I unplug mixer, squish ingredients together by hand, add more water and oil and another couple of eggs, and turn the mixer back on. The dough looks lovely.
5. And then I notice that the top of the mixer, the plastic splash ring, is not sitting right. That's because the solid lump of dough that was revolving around the bowl pushed up against it hard enough to snap all three latch points, irretrievably destroying splash ring on my I-don't-want-to-remember-how-much-it-cost Bosch bowl. I toss splash ring into garbage.
6. I briefly consider fishing through the dough for the broken pieces of plastic, then laugh bitterly at the idea, because these pieces of plastic are, well, deadly, and it's not even a tiny little bit worth it. I toss entire batch of challah into garbage.
7. And start a new one. Stay tuned. I'm going to take out the garbage.
1. I add all the liquid ingredients for my challah (7 eggs, plus honey, sugar, oil etc.), all the dry ingredients less the flour, a little bit of flour, and start the mixer mixing. Only it doesn't mix--the mixer blade on my Bosch pops up. I turn off mixer, reach in to set the blade in correctly, and instead of setting it correctly I suddenly realize that the entire contents of the bowl are rapidly draining out the 1.5-inch-diameter hole at the bottom of the bowl, because the bolt that holds the blade assembly together was not in and fell out. So I now have all the liquid and whatever of the solid ingredients have dissolved, all over my floor.
2. After cleaning this up (which took a LONG time), I go to open bag of flour #2--only to see the inside of the bag festooned with webs. Because it's infested with bugs. Heavily, heavily infested. I waste some time sifting, then realize that this is never going to work because it's organic whole wheat and I'm sifting out half the flour and probably none of the insects. I toss entire $6.19 bag of flour into trash, and open bag of flour #3, which looks OK.
3. I hazard guesses at how much of which ingredients are missing from the challah, add them, and start the dough mixing again in my smaller Bosch bowl. Then I realize that the counter I have just scrubbed (salmonella, y'know) is again covered with raw eggs, because the wet ingredients are not being incorporated into the now hard and solid lump of dough that was left when I lost the liquid the first time.
4. I will not be defeated! I unplug mixer, squish ingredients together by hand, add more water and oil and another couple of eggs, and turn the mixer back on. The dough looks lovely.
5. And then I notice that the top of the mixer, the plastic splash ring, is not sitting right. That's because the solid lump of dough that was revolving around the bowl pushed up against it hard enough to snap all three latch points, irretrievably destroying splash ring on my I-don't-want-to-remember-how-much-it-cost Bosch bowl. I toss splash ring into garbage.
6. I briefly consider fishing through the dough for the broken pieces of plastic, then laugh bitterly at the idea, because these pieces of plastic are, well, deadly, and it's not even a tiny little bit worth it. I toss entire batch of challah into garbage.
7. And start a new one. Stay tuned. I'm going to take out the garbage.
School
The first day of school was last week. Barak is going to the nursery school attached to the local bais yaakov, so is enjoying what will probably be his last year of coeducational schooling until college at least; Iyyar started a playgroup run by a friend of mine. Barak is, I think, mostly excited by the fact that he now goes to school via carpool, meaning that he gets to drive in a car every single day. This, for my car-deprived son, is a Very Big Deal. He is, fortunately, not in the same class as the infamous Dovie, although they do see each other occasionally. I asked Barak if Dovie was his friend and was told, "He's not very nice to me." But he hasn't brought it up and didn't seem bothered, so I left it alone. Barak does have some other friends from his last year's playgroup, two of whom I know to be really nice boys, so that's all good.
And Iyyar is having a blast. One of the things I didn't post much about but that has been a big part of the last couple of weeks is that a friend of mine (who I think I'm going to call Yehudis, now that the blog is open again) has been in the hospital, twice, with her baby, who had Kawasaki disease. (White, female baby. Go figure.) Yehudis does Iyyar's playgroup, but since she'd just gotten back from the hospital with a still-sick baby, had her mother helping her. The playgroup is in the basement, and the baby was upstairs with her Bubbe. Not surprisingly, the baby spent some part of the morning crying. This distressed Iyyar, apparently; when he got home, he spent a treat deal of time informing me, urgently: "Baby crying. Want. Imma." And, "Baby tired. Nap. Baby needa nap." Then a few minutes would go by, and he'd tell me again. "Baby. Want. Imma!" I told him I knew, but the baby was fine. He didn't believe me, and looked at me like I was being... well, negligent.
The next morning I told Yehudis this. She was not surprised. In fact, Iyyar had taken the baby's welfare upon himself as a personal responsibility, and had spent much of the morning tailing Yehudis, trying to make her realize that HER BABY WAS CRYING AND WASN'T THERE SOMETHING SHE SHOULD BE DOING ABOUT THAT?! Yehudis kept reassuring Iyyar that the baby was with her Bubbe, and she was fine, but Iyyar was unconvinced. "Baby CRYING." Don't you hear her?! What are you, heartless? You've got a crying baby up there, lady!
I found it kind of sweet. :)
Iyyar, as you may have noticed, is now talking a lot more. If I give him something he doesn't want to eat, he hands it back with a disdainful "No gink gyou." He tells me about his day--about the baby crying, and also about playing with trucks. ("Go school! Trucks! Fun!") and remembers, mournfully, his cousins and friends from the summer. ("Want Yanky. Want Yaakov Naya. Play. Fun...") Abba is very much the Preferred Parent these days--sometimes I go into Iyyar's room when he wakes up at night and get, "No want Imma. Want Abba!" Okay then. Iyyar is also now enjoying Abba's fabulous bedtime stories. "Dory off from? Dory off from?" Meaning, are you going to start the story from where you left it off last night?
Avtalyon, the only one in the house who doesn't have to get out the door in the morning (well, except that of course he does, because I take him with me) is now crawling like a maniac. He has totally skipped that stage of sitting up, playing with toys, but not being mobile; he can get himself nicely into a sitting position, although he does still wobble a little. He's eating rice cereal, oatmeal, mashed bananas, applesauce and mashed peas; last night he slept from 7 pm till 7 am only waking up at 11 and 5. I think. At least, those were the only times I woke up...
And Iyyar is having a blast. One of the things I didn't post much about but that has been a big part of the last couple of weeks is that a friend of mine (who I think I'm going to call Yehudis, now that the blog is open again) has been in the hospital, twice, with her baby, who had Kawasaki disease. (White, female baby. Go figure.) Yehudis does Iyyar's playgroup, but since she'd just gotten back from the hospital with a still-sick baby, had her mother helping her. The playgroup is in the basement, and the baby was upstairs with her Bubbe. Not surprisingly, the baby spent some part of the morning crying. This distressed Iyyar, apparently; when he got home, he spent a treat deal of time informing me, urgently: "Baby crying. Want. Imma." And, "Baby tired. Nap. Baby needa nap." Then a few minutes would go by, and he'd tell me again. "Baby. Want. Imma!" I told him I knew, but the baby was fine. He didn't believe me, and looked at me like I was being... well, negligent.
The next morning I told Yehudis this. She was not surprised. In fact, Iyyar had taken the baby's welfare upon himself as a personal responsibility, and had spent much of the morning tailing Yehudis, trying to make her realize that HER BABY WAS CRYING AND WASN'T THERE SOMETHING SHE SHOULD BE DOING ABOUT THAT?! Yehudis kept reassuring Iyyar that the baby was with her Bubbe, and she was fine, but Iyyar was unconvinced. "Baby CRYING." Don't you hear her?! What are you, heartless? You've got a crying baby up there, lady!
I found it kind of sweet. :)
Iyyar, as you may have noticed, is now talking a lot more. If I give him something he doesn't want to eat, he hands it back with a disdainful "No gink gyou." He tells me about his day--about the baby crying, and also about playing with trucks. ("Go school! Trucks! Fun!") and remembers, mournfully, his cousins and friends from the summer. ("Want Yanky. Want Yaakov Naya. Play. Fun...") Abba is very much the Preferred Parent these days--sometimes I go into Iyyar's room when he wakes up at night and get, "No want Imma. Want Abba!" Okay then. Iyyar is also now enjoying Abba's fabulous bedtime stories. "Dory off from? Dory off from?" Meaning, are you going to start the story from where you left it off last night?
Avtalyon, the only one in the house who doesn't have to get out the door in the morning (well, except that of course he does, because I take him with me) is now crawling like a maniac. He has totally skipped that stage of sitting up, playing with toys, but not being mobile; he can get himself nicely into a sitting position, although he does still wobble a little. He's eating rice cereal, oatmeal, mashed bananas, applesauce and mashed peas; last night he slept from 7 pm till 7 am only waking up at 11 and 5. I think. At least, those were the only times I woke up...
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
By the numbers
When I was growing up, I was always a little bit heavy. Not enormously, but enough to feel self-conscious, and certainly enough to get teased.
When I went off to college, and suddenly found my diet in my own control, I dropped a lot of weight--more than I should have initially, but then it stabilized pretty soon and I stayed within 5 lb of the same weight for about ten years.
Then came the tail end of my grad school career, and all the stresses that came with it, and I gained about 15 lb. I moved to New York, joined a gym, did Weight Watchers, and lost it all by my wedding; then, um, I was married, and gained it all back.
By the time I got pregnant with Barak, about five months after I got married, I was at a weight that horrified me at the time but at the moment would look pretty great. Let's call that weight X. X, for the record, is the maximum "healthy weight" for someone of my height, according to the charts.
By the end of my fourth month, I was at X + 13.
When Barak was born, I was at X + (gulp) 41.
By the time Barak was 1, I was back down to X + 5. That was pretty good, but a few months later, before I got pregnant with Iyyar, I was back up to X + 10.
Then I was pregnant with Iyyar, and got up to X + 46.
I never lost all of it--the lowest I got to after Iyyar was X + 15.
Then I got pregnant with Avtalyon, and managed not to gain quite as much weight--probably because I was carrying so much extra to begin with. Final weight with Avtalyon was also X + 46.
By the end of my maternity leave, I was at X + 25. When we left for Israel, I think I was at X + 22.
When we got back, I was at X + 14. As of last week, I'm at X + 11.
Let's be clear--X + 11 is not a great, healthy weight for me. But it's the thinnest I've been since before Iyyar was born. I'm fitting into clothes--I'm wearing a skirt now, in fact--that I haven't worn since before Iyyar was born. I categorically do not look pregnant. My face isn't as round. It feels pretty good.
I'm really, really hoping I can keep it up all the way back down to X. I have no aspirations right now to get down past that, and in fact gave away my whole size 6 wardrobe last year. But I'll admit it. I've got my eye on those 8s.
When I went off to college, and suddenly found my diet in my own control, I dropped a lot of weight--more than I should have initially, but then it stabilized pretty soon and I stayed within 5 lb of the same weight for about ten years.
Then came the tail end of my grad school career, and all the stresses that came with it, and I gained about 15 lb. I moved to New York, joined a gym, did Weight Watchers, and lost it all by my wedding; then, um, I was married, and gained it all back.
By the time I got pregnant with Barak, about five months after I got married, I was at a weight that horrified me at the time but at the moment would look pretty great. Let's call that weight X. X, for the record, is the maximum "healthy weight" for someone of my height, according to the charts.
By the end of my fourth month, I was at X + 13.
When Barak was born, I was at X + (gulp) 41.
By the time Barak was 1, I was back down to X + 5. That was pretty good, but a few months later, before I got pregnant with Iyyar, I was back up to X + 10.
Then I was pregnant with Iyyar, and got up to X + 46.
I never lost all of it--the lowest I got to after Iyyar was X + 15.
Then I got pregnant with Avtalyon, and managed not to gain quite as much weight--probably because I was carrying so much extra to begin with. Final weight with Avtalyon was also X + 46.
By the end of my maternity leave, I was at X + 25. When we left for Israel, I think I was at X + 22.
When we got back, I was at X + 14. As of last week, I'm at X + 11.
Let's be clear--X + 11 is not a great, healthy weight for me. But it's the thinnest I've been since before Iyyar was born. I'm fitting into clothes--I'm wearing a skirt now, in fact--that I haven't worn since before Iyyar was born. I categorically do not look pregnant. My face isn't as round. It feels pretty good.
I'm really, really hoping I can keep it up all the way back down to X. I have no aspirations right now to get down past that, and in fact gave away my whole size 6 wardrobe last year. But I'll admit it. I've got my eye on those 8s.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Not that you needed me to tell you this
But holy cow, the price of food. Food and household items both, but mostly food.
I just got back from a trip to Target and the supermarket. I spent $292. I did not buy any meat or cheese or ANY prepared foods. No ice cream, either--no treats at all, actually. At Target I stocked up on diapers and tissues and bought paper goods for yom tov; I got milk, juice, batteries, garbage bags, rice cereal and oatmeal, soap, and so on. I did buy a new tabletop ironing board ($9.99) and two boxes of actual Pampers, at $20 each--I usually put generic diapers on Iyyar and Avtalyon but they just don't do it for overnight. At the supermarket I bought a lot of flour (for yom tov baking--25 lb of King Arthur) and five boxes of Cheeries (5/$10). Grape juice for kiddush, bread, sandwich bags, lots of yogurt, gefilte fish and fish sticks (okay, that probably counts as a prepared food item), granola, and a new parve knife ($5.49) to replace the one the tenants whatevered. Whole-wheat pretzels for lunches. I did not buy organic anything, except for rice cereal, yogurt and milk. I've given up on the organic whole wheat flour--at $9.99/5 lb, it's over my organic price threshold.
There were other things, but all along the same lines. Nothing fancy. Mostly generics. Our kids aren't even eating that much yet. No meat or cheese or produce--just my periodic trip to replenish supplies of the things that I can't buy, or that are very expensive, on our local shopping street. And it won't even last me the month.
It's not that we don't have money to buy food. B"H we absolutely do. It's just the sticker shock, and thinking about how much food and gas are eating into the budgets of people who don't have the wiggle room that, B"H, we currently have. I can't help feeling guilty walking out of the supermarket having dropped a couple hundred dollars, but it's not as though I did anything wrong buying Cheerios and milk. Cheerios on sale, even.
Dinner tonight: scallion-heavy salmon patties, which I made with canned salmon from Trader Joe's; brown rice with peanut butter and umeboshi vinegar, one of MHH's favorite concoctions; a caramelized onion on the side.
What did you have?
I just got back from a trip to Target and the supermarket. I spent $292. I did not buy any meat or cheese or ANY prepared foods. No ice cream, either--no treats at all, actually. At Target I stocked up on diapers and tissues and bought paper goods for yom tov; I got milk, juice, batteries, garbage bags, rice cereal and oatmeal, soap, and so on. I did buy a new tabletop ironing board ($9.99) and two boxes of actual Pampers, at $20 each--I usually put generic diapers on Iyyar and Avtalyon but they just don't do it for overnight. At the supermarket I bought a lot of flour (for yom tov baking--25 lb of King Arthur) and five boxes of Cheeries (5/$10). Grape juice for kiddush, bread, sandwich bags, lots of yogurt, gefilte fish and fish sticks (okay, that probably counts as a prepared food item), granola, and a new parve knife ($5.49) to replace the one the tenants whatevered. Whole-wheat pretzels for lunches. I did not buy organic anything, except for rice cereal, yogurt and milk. I've given up on the organic whole wheat flour--at $9.99/5 lb, it's over my organic price threshold.
There were other things, but all along the same lines. Nothing fancy. Mostly generics. Our kids aren't even eating that much yet. No meat or cheese or produce--just my periodic trip to replenish supplies of the things that I can't buy, or that are very expensive, on our local shopping street. And it won't even last me the month.
It's not that we don't have money to buy food. B"H we absolutely do. It's just the sticker shock, and thinking about how much food and gas are eating into the budgets of people who don't have the wiggle room that, B"H, we currently have. I can't help feeling guilty walking out of the supermarket having dropped a couple hundred dollars, but it's not as though I did anything wrong buying Cheerios and milk. Cheerios on sale, even.
Dinner tonight: scallion-heavy salmon patties, which I made with canned salmon from Trader Joe's; brown rice with peanut butter and umeboshi vinegar, one of MHH's favorite concoctions; a caramelized onion on the side.
What did you have?
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Things that still surprise me
1. Identifying myself to my friends' children as Mrs. Uberimma.
2. Saying, "I need to be home by quarter to eight, my husband has night seder."
3. Paying for my milk and vegetables in school money.
4. Being recognized on the street, and greeted, by four-year-olds.
5. Having other people's kids hanging out at my house.
6. Packing lunches for my kids, every night.
7. Writing mitzva notes.
8. Sending Barak over to the men's side to find Abba.
9. Picking my kid up at nursery school, with all the other mothers.
10. Lighting five candles.
When we were waiting at the emergency room on Thursday, me and Iyyar and Ada, I saw Iyyar climb up on something perilous to check out the fish in the fish tank. He was two steps away, so I jumped up and had my hands out before he fell. I heard someone say, "Wow, she's fast." And Ada said, "She has three boys."
And that surprised me, too. It surprises me still.
2. Saying, "I need to be home by quarter to eight, my husband has night seder."
3. Paying for my milk and vegetables in school money.
4. Being recognized on the street, and greeted, by four-year-olds.
5. Having other people's kids hanging out at my house.
6. Packing lunches for my kids, every night.
7. Writing mitzva notes.
8. Sending Barak over to the men's side to find Abba.
9. Picking my kid up at nursery school, with all the other mothers.
10. Lighting five candles.
When we were waiting at the emergency room on Thursday, me and Iyyar and Ada, I saw Iyyar climb up on something perilous to check out the fish in the fish tank. He was two steps away, so I jumped up and had my hands out before he fell. I heard someone say, "Wow, she's fast." And Ada said, "She has three boys."
And that surprised me, too. It surprises me still.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Sunday night
Sorry I couldn't come up with a better name for this post. It's been that kind of a weekend.
Thursday's ER visit? From the perspective of today, it was nothing. Iyyar was limping. He was holding his foot funny. I got worried--it didn't seem to hurt him a bit but he was positively hobbling. I called the pediatrician and talked to the nurse, who said to bring him in in the morning. Ada, Babysitter of Amazingness and Inexplicable Baby Voodoo-Master, was consulted via email from her day (well, night, really) job at the local children's ER. Might be a toddler fracture, she said.
Hmm, I thought. If I wait till the morning, take him to the pediatrician, he gets sent for an x-ray, then if it needs a cast... it's going to be all day, and I'll have to either take the baby to the ER (no way) or leave him all day (no way--he still won't take a bottle from anyone other than Ada, cf. Inexplicable Baby Voodoo-Master, above.) What to do? Well, since Ada was actually working that night, the most reasonable course of action seemed to be just taking him to the ER for x-rays after Avtalyon had gone to sleep.
Which I did. Iyyar, for the most part, had a great time--he got to see Ada, he got to play with toys, he was plied with Bamba which he happily piled into the vomit basins conveniently provided, he pulled ear-probe covers out of their dispensers and discovered a DVD player with buttons within his (carefully supervised) reach. There were stickers. There were fish tanks, one with an actual shark. We got, thanks to Ada, total red-carpet treatment, and she hung out with us as much as she could sneak away from her desk. Iyyar was delighted to be reunited with his buddy; I had very little to do but trail along after them hauling the carseat.
And then there was the x-ray, which was less fun, but! Ada helped! and there were bubbles! Note to self--spring for the additional cab fare and use more distant children's ER if any further ER trips are necessary. Especially if it's Ada's night on.
Verdict: no break, it's probably muscular, keep an eye on it and bring him to your pediatrician if it's not better in five days. Ada was bidden farewell ("Right back? Rika right back?") and I tried not to feel too much like chopped liver, we took a cab home and Iyyar passed out in the back seat.
All in all, no big deal.
Fast-forward to Friday morning.
I was sitting working, the kids were with Asnat, and I heard the door open at around 10. It was MHH. What's up with that? He's supposed to be at the beit medrash, preparing his d'var Torah for the Shabbaton tonight. He came in--staggered, actually, and stood there, swaying. I took a look and realized that he was a) gray like dishwater, b) sweating profusely, and c) looking really, really ill. "I don't feel good," he said, unnecessarily. "Go eat something," I said. "Did you eat?"
"I did eat!" he said. "I had some heartburn this morning, so I took a Prevacid [he takes it for reflux] and then I had breakfast and went to kollel. And then I started really sweating. I thought I was going to throw up. Now I feel really nauseous. And really tired. I'm going to go lie down."
Nausea... heartburn... profuse sweating... dizziness... gray... fatigue...
DING DING DING DING
"I think we're going to the ER." I said.
"What?"
"Let's go to the hospital."
"That's what Marvin said."
"Who?"
"Marvin at the kollel. He wanted to take me to the ER. He said I was dia... diaphor..."
"Diaphoretic. Sweaty."
"Yeah."
"Well, let's go."
"Why?"
"Because you might be having a heart attack. I'm calling a cab." I called the cab, picked up the sleeping baby to give him a top-up nurse, and we left.
We got to the ER and boy there is nothing like coming in with that list of symptoms to have them swing you right past everyone else in the waiting room and get you hooked up to a bunch of machines really really fast. The EKG looked fine, his heart sounded fine, and he was looking distinctly better. "Do you still feel sick?" I asked him, an hour later, as he was hanging out on the gurney in a hospital gown covered with stickers and wires. "Um, no," he said. "Just really really tired."
The attending came in, and explained that while they were sure he had not had a big heart attack, he might still be having a little one, and they would like to admit him, do two more blood tests six hours apart, and then put him on a treadmill in the morning. Which would be Shabbos. MHH looked horrified. "You're staying," I told him. He called his local rav, asked a few shailos, and that was that.
Did I mention that my cell phone was not working? No? Well, it wasn't, so I was checking in with the babysitter with the ER phone. I called myself a cab, waited until MHH was back from getting a chest X-ray, called a few people to find someone who could run food, clothes, and Shabbos supplies back to the hospital, and then went back home. Starving baby, worked-up kids (especially Barak, who, remember, had seen me disappear to the hospital with Iyyar the night before), and... you have GOT to be kidding me... no electricity. Which meant no phones, because we have VOIP.
No food, no power, no phones, a whole bunch of people to call and plans to cancel and stuff to do in three hours before Shabbos. Asnat lent me her cell phone, which was a lifesaver; I called Ada to tell her that our Friday night plans were off, and she offered to come over anyway and help out, which was lifesaver #2; getting three kids ready for Shabbos when you have notice is one thing, but doing it all on your own with no notice, a husband in the hospital, and, oh yes, NO FOOD, PHONE, OR ELECTRICITY is something else. There was no possibility of just eating what was in the fridge--we'd just been in Israel for two months and there was nothing in the fridge or freezer. So I loaded everyone in the stroller, and off we went to the bakery (where I immediately caved to Barak's request for a $2 slice of cake--which he will remember forever), the grocery store (since when is roast beef $18/lb?! we'll have the bologna) and the produce store (where I bought orange juice and cookies, planning to take the bribery route through the evening). We went home, calling Grandma E on the way; I fed the kids dinner, and then Ada turned up and gave them baths and got them into pajamas while I took a shower. MHH's new rosh kollel (did I mention that the shabbaton we were supposed to go to was the first shabbaton of his brand-new job?) called and then came over with food; I put the baby down, and was about to light when Jenny from work called and, as if inspired by a host of psychic angels, offered to come over the next day to check in on us and on MHH in the hospital. I gratefully accepted, lit, let the kids eat their cake, Ada and I put them to bed, we sat in the kitchen schmoozing and looking at baby pictures for a while, and then she left and I went to bed. By myself.
Let me state for the record that I cannot imagine being a single parent. No--let me restate that. I have imagined it, and the very idea fills me with unspeakable horror. I know that I could not handle it, practically or emotionally. I don't know how anyone does. I couldn't sleep; the baby couldn't sleep; I ended up taking him into bed with me for company and nursing him most of the night. The kids woke up out of sorts and asking for Abba; they were acting up within minutes, and I yelled at them by 9, instantly regretting it. We went outside to play; Jenny came, and went off to check in on MHH. At this point my stomach was in the kind of tight hard knot it has not been in since... can't remember when actually. My legs felt like water. To say that I was in a state of increased anxiety would be, you know, an inadequate descriptor of the situation.
We came inside and had lunch; I was about to put Iyyar down for a nap when I heard a familiar knock on the back door. Jenny came in. "He's fiiiiiiine," she said, reassuringly. "They're discharging him. "
"Really? He's fine?"
"He's so totally fine. I think he's milking it, actually. He's being pretty pathetic. Guys!"
??
The rest of the day was better, from my point of view, although the non-husband-related anxiety was pretty high again later when I visited a good friend whose baby was clearly in need of a return trip to the hospital from which she'd just been discharged. We got home at around 6, the boys had their Shabbos yogurts, Avtalyon had some rice cereal (or maybe it was cement--hard to tell, they look the same), and everyone went to bed. MHH came home, looking totally fine; he was kicking himself for not just catching a ride home with Jenny at lunchtime. What did they think had happened? No idea, really; sleep deprivation, dehydration, reflux, vagus nerve something, who knew. He wasn't supposed to stop taking his reflux medicine, and was supposed to check in with his GP.
He went over to the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet to get his reflux medicine and I was about to leave the kitchen when I heard a strangled sound. "What's this?!"
"What?"
"What's this? This isn't my reflux medicine."
"No, that's mine."
"What is it?"
"Those are the class-A controlled-substance narcotics the neurologist gave me when I had that thing with the nerve in my face."
Silence.
"Ohhhhhhhhh. Oh no."
"Um. Is that what you took yesterday?"
"But it says [our last name]! I thought it was mine!"
"That's the last name of everyone in this house. You took one?"
"I... I think I... I took one, and then I ate breakfast, and then I went to the kollel, and that's when I got sick."
"About half an hour later, then?"
"I guess." Pause. "Could it have really made me that sick?"
I googled the drug in question (I'm fast-forwarding a little here--I'm tired of typing) and read off the list. "Common side effects include dizziness, nausea, lightheadedness, vomiting, drowsiness... less common side effects include allergic reaction, depressed respiration, irregular heartbeat, anxiety..."
So...
B"H, he's fine. He will be reading prescription labels more carefully in future. We will be keeping our respective medicines in different locations in future. And all of us will be trying to get some more sleep.
Thursday's ER visit? From the perspective of today, it was nothing. Iyyar was limping. He was holding his foot funny. I got worried--it didn't seem to hurt him a bit but he was positively hobbling. I called the pediatrician and talked to the nurse, who said to bring him in in the morning. Ada, Babysitter of Amazingness and Inexplicable Baby Voodoo-Master, was consulted via email from her day (well, night, really) job at the local children's ER. Might be a toddler fracture, she said.
Hmm, I thought. If I wait till the morning, take him to the pediatrician, he gets sent for an x-ray, then if it needs a cast... it's going to be all day, and I'll have to either take the baby to the ER (no way) or leave him all day (no way--he still won't take a bottle from anyone other than Ada, cf. Inexplicable Baby Voodoo-Master, above.) What to do? Well, since Ada was actually working that night, the most reasonable course of action seemed to be just taking him to the ER for x-rays after Avtalyon had gone to sleep.
Which I did. Iyyar, for the most part, had a great time--he got to see Ada, he got to play with toys, he was plied with Bamba which he happily piled into the vomit basins conveniently provided, he pulled ear-probe covers out of their dispensers and discovered a DVD player with buttons within his (carefully supervised) reach. There were stickers. There were fish tanks, one with an actual shark. We got, thanks to Ada, total red-carpet treatment, and she hung out with us as much as she could sneak away from her desk. Iyyar was delighted to be reunited with his buddy; I had very little to do but trail along after them hauling the carseat.
And then there was the x-ray, which was less fun, but! Ada helped! and there were bubbles! Note to self--spring for the additional cab fare and use more distant children's ER if any further ER trips are necessary. Especially if it's Ada's night on.
Verdict: no break, it's probably muscular, keep an eye on it and bring him to your pediatrician if it's not better in five days. Ada was bidden farewell ("Right back? Rika right back?") and I tried not to feel too much like chopped liver, we took a cab home and Iyyar passed out in the back seat.
All in all, no big deal.
Fast-forward to Friday morning.
I was sitting working, the kids were with Asnat, and I heard the door open at around 10. It was MHH. What's up with that? He's supposed to be at the beit medrash, preparing his d'var Torah for the Shabbaton tonight. He came in--staggered, actually, and stood there, swaying. I took a look and realized that he was a) gray like dishwater, b) sweating profusely, and c) looking really, really ill. "I don't feel good," he said, unnecessarily. "Go eat something," I said. "Did you eat?"
"I did eat!" he said. "I had some heartburn this morning, so I took a Prevacid [he takes it for reflux] and then I had breakfast and went to kollel. And then I started really sweating. I thought I was going to throw up. Now I feel really nauseous. And really tired. I'm going to go lie down."
Nausea... heartburn... profuse sweating... dizziness... gray... fatigue...
DING DING DING DING
"I think we're going to the ER." I said.
"What?"
"Let's go to the hospital."
"That's what Marvin said."
"Who?"
"Marvin at the kollel. He wanted to take me to the ER. He said I was dia... diaphor..."
"Diaphoretic. Sweaty."
"Yeah."
"Well, let's go."
"Why?"
"Because you might be having a heart attack. I'm calling a cab." I called the cab, picked up the sleeping baby to give him a top-up nurse, and we left.
We got to the ER and boy there is nothing like coming in with that list of symptoms to have them swing you right past everyone else in the waiting room and get you hooked up to a bunch of machines really really fast. The EKG looked fine, his heart sounded fine, and he was looking distinctly better. "Do you still feel sick?" I asked him, an hour later, as he was hanging out on the gurney in a hospital gown covered with stickers and wires. "Um, no," he said. "Just really really tired."
The attending came in, and explained that while they were sure he had not had a big heart attack, he might still be having a little one, and they would like to admit him, do two more blood tests six hours apart, and then put him on a treadmill in the morning. Which would be Shabbos. MHH looked horrified. "You're staying," I told him. He called his local rav, asked a few shailos, and that was that.
Did I mention that my cell phone was not working? No? Well, it wasn't, so I was checking in with the babysitter with the ER phone. I called myself a cab, waited until MHH was back from getting a chest X-ray, called a few people to find someone who could run food, clothes, and Shabbos supplies back to the hospital, and then went back home. Starving baby, worked-up kids (especially Barak, who, remember, had seen me disappear to the hospital with Iyyar the night before), and... you have GOT to be kidding me... no electricity. Which meant no phones, because we have VOIP.
No food, no power, no phones, a whole bunch of people to call and plans to cancel and stuff to do in three hours before Shabbos. Asnat lent me her cell phone, which was a lifesaver; I called Ada to tell her that our Friday night plans were off, and she offered to come over anyway and help out, which was lifesaver #2; getting three kids ready for Shabbos when you have notice is one thing, but doing it all on your own with no notice, a husband in the hospital, and, oh yes, NO FOOD, PHONE, OR ELECTRICITY is something else. There was no possibility of just eating what was in the fridge--we'd just been in Israel for two months and there was nothing in the fridge or freezer. So I loaded everyone in the stroller, and off we went to the bakery (where I immediately caved to Barak's request for a $2 slice of cake--which he will remember forever), the grocery store (since when is roast beef $18/lb?! we'll have the bologna) and the produce store (where I bought orange juice and cookies, planning to take the bribery route through the evening). We went home, calling Grandma E on the way; I fed the kids dinner, and then Ada turned up and gave them baths and got them into pajamas while I took a shower. MHH's new rosh kollel (did I mention that the shabbaton we were supposed to go to was the first shabbaton of his brand-new job?) called and then came over with food; I put the baby down, and was about to light when Jenny from work called and, as if inspired by a host of psychic angels, offered to come over the next day to check in on us and on MHH in the hospital. I gratefully accepted, lit, let the kids eat their cake, Ada and I put them to bed, we sat in the kitchen schmoozing and looking at baby pictures for a while, and then she left and I went to bed. By myself.
Let me state for the record that I cannot imagine being a single parent. No--let me restate that. I have imagined it, and the very idea fills me with unspeakable horror. I know that I could not handle it, practically or emotionally. I don't know how anyone does. I couldn't sleep; the baby couldn't sleep; I ended up taking him into bed with me for company and nursing him most of the night. The kids woke up out of sorts and asking for Abba; they were acting up within minutes, and I yelled at them by 9, instantly regretting it. We went outside to play; Jenny came, and went off to check in on MHH. At this point my stomach was in the kind of tight hard knot it has not been in since... can't remember when actually. My legs felt like water. To say that I was in a state of increased anxiety would be, you know, an inadequate descriptor of the situation.
We came inside and had lunch; I was about to put Iyyar down for a nap when I heard a familiar knock on the back door. Jenny came in. "He's fiiiiiiine," she said, reassuringly. "They're discharging him. "
"Really? He's fine?"
"He's so totally fine. I think he's milking it, actually. He's being pretty pathetic. Guys!"
??
The rest of the day was better, from my point of view, although the non-husband-related anxiety was pretty high again later when I visited a good friend whose baby was clearly in need of a return trip to the hospital from which she'd just been discharged. We got home at around 6, the boys had their Shabbos yogurts, Avtalyon had some rice cereal (or maybe it was cement--hard to tell, they look the same), and everyone went to bed. MHH came home, looking totally fine; he was kicking himself for not just catching a ride home with Jenny at lunchtime. What did they think had happened? No idea, really; sleep deprivation, dehydration, reflux, vagus nerve something, who knew. He wasn't supposed to stop taking his reflux medicine, and was supposed to check in with his GP.
He went over to the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet to get his reflux medicine and I was about to leave the kitchen when I heard a strangled sound. "What's this?!"
"What?"
"What's this? This isn't my reflux medicine."
"No, that's mine."
"What is it?"
"Those are the class-A controlled-substance narcotics the neurologist gave me when I had that thing with the nerve in my face."
Silence.
"Ohhhhhhhhh. Oh no."
"Um. Is that what you took yesterday?"
"But it says [our last name]! I thought it was mine!"
"That's the last name of everyone in this house. You took one?"
"I... I think I... I took one, and then I ate breakfast, and then I went to the kollel, and that's when I got sick."
"About half an hour later, then?"
"I guess." Pause. "Could it have really made me that sick?"
I googled the drug in question (I'm fast-forwarding a little here--I'm tired of typing) and read off the list. "Common side effects include dizziness, nausea, lightheadedness, vomiting, drowsiness... less common side effects include allergic reaction, depressed respiration, irregular heartbeat, anxiety..."
So...
B"H, he's fine. He will be reading prescription labels more carefully in future. We will be keeping our respective medicines in different locations in future. And all of us will be trying to get some more sleep.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Jig.
We're back.
Where to begin?
With the trip? The trip was fine. The kids did great, and nobody threw up. Getting out the door was crazy, what with the 4 am motzai Shabbos departure, and neither MHH or I slept at all that night. But we did it, and even successfully got our VAT back at the airport, which is not for the faint of heart. Most of our luggage made it--just the strollers and Barak's booster seat were left in London, which turned out not to be a problem at all because a) it meant we could all fit in one van and b) British Airways gave us a new carseat! "We have to! Otherwise how would you get home from the airport?" More reasons to love BA.
Then we got home. The less said about that the better. The tenants, we immediately noticed, had not cleaned. The had not cleaned the stove, or the sink, or the fridge, and where are all those fruit flies coming from? Sheets dirty in washing machine... are there ANY clean sheets? Pretzels in couch, toys, all over house, and let's not think about Pesach. Okay, it could be worse... wait... are those my fleishig glasses in the milchig cupboard? Where are the sink tubs that I use in my treif sinks? They're in the guest room?! What have they been washing dishes in all summer? Is that a fleishig spatula in the parve drawer? And what's this pile of flatware in my fleishig dish rack... milchig, milchig, fleishig, parve, parve, milchig...
[sound of uberimma's head exploding]
The father of the family is the principal of an orthodox school. Nuff said. We're not sending our kids there...
We are about 70% unpacked, and the kids are about 50% over their jet lag. One duffel bag left to unpack, and several baskets' worth of clean laundry piled on my bed--it's hard to put away laundry when both rooms where clothes are kept contain sleeping children at the only time of day in which I am at liberty to put laundry away.
MHH started his new job a couple of days ago, and B"H so far so good. I met the other kollel wives and felt a little bit fish-out-of-water-y, but I'm sure it will be fine.
Back to work now. Next up: our exciting late-night trip to the local children's emergency room. Don't worry, everyone's fine, and Iyyar has lots of new stickers and play-doh now...
Where to begin?
With the trip? The trip was fine. The kids did great, and nobody threw up. Getting out the door was crazy, what with the 4 am motzai Shabbos departure, and neither MHH or I slept at all that night. But we did it, and even successfully got our VAT back at the airport, which is not for the faint of heart. Most of our luggage made it--just the strollers and Barak's booster seat were left in London, which turned out not to be a problem at all because a) it meant we could all fit in one van and b) British Airways gave us a new carseat! "We have to! Otherwise how would you get home from the airport?" More reasons to love BA.
Then we got home. The less said about that the better. The tenants, we immediately noticed, had not cleaned. The had not cleaned the stove, or the sink, or the fridge, and where are all those fruit flies coming from? Sheets dirty in washing machine... are there ANY clean sheets? Pretzels in couch, toys, all over house, and let's not think about Pesach. Okay, it could be worse... wait... are those my fleishig glasses in the milchig cupboard? Where are the sink tubs that I use in my treif sinks? They're in the guest room?! What have they been washing dishes in all summer? Is that a fleishig spatula in the parve drawer? And what's this pile of flatware in my fleishig dish rack... milchig, milchig, fleishig, parve, parve, milchig...
[sound of uberimma's head exploding]
The father of the family is the principal of an orthodox school. Nuff said. We're not sending our kids there...
We are about 70% unpacked, and the kids are about 50% over their jet lag. One duffel bag left to unpack, and several baskets' worth of clean laundry piled on my bed--it's hard to put away laundry when both rooms where clothes are kept contain sleeping children at the only time of day in which I am at liberty to put laundry away.
MHH started his new job a couple of days ago, and B"H so far so good. I met the other kollel wives and felt a little bit fish-out-of-water-y, but I'm sure it will be fine.
Back to work now. Next up: our exciting late-night trip to the local children's emergency room. Don't worry, everyone's fine, and Iyyar has lots of new stickers and play-doh now...
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Collected
I keep thinking during the day of various things I want to blog about, and then when I sit down at the computer... do I really need to finish this sentence? I don't, do I?
Usually when this happens I sit down and write a list post. Today, I think I'll take more of a stream-of-consciousness approach. Bear with me, please.
I just got back from a skirt sale someone was holding at a neighbor's apartment. I went for the skirts but stayed for the shmoozing--it was mostly Anglos, a couple of new olim, and one who just got here a few weeks ago. She told me that she came on her pilot trip in January and saw nice rentals in this neighborhood for about $650. By the time she came in June, there was nothing--not even yucky little apartments--for under a thousand. They did not have the money for a nice place and did not want to live somewhere gross, so ended up renting something a half-hour walk away from the religious neighborhood. Not the way to an easy klita.
The religious neighborhood is, in fairness, spreading out and up the hill; the mayor does not want to zone any of the new neighborhoods being built as religious, feeling that the city should be integrated, but of course the religious families want to live together (in walking distance to the religious schools, happy minyans, and so on). Of course, as the desirable neighborhood spreads, so do the rents. I am hoping that in two years, our current timetable, the following three things will happen:
1. The Israeli real estate market will tank as it has already done in the states, making things more affordable;
2. The American real estate market will recover, such that it will be possible to sell our house without taking a massive loss (the woman I talked to tonight took a $70k loss on the sale of her house--doesn't bear thinking about);
3. The dollar will recover, at least to the level of, say, 4 NIS to the dollar.
Hey, a girl can dream, right? And while we're at it, how about good jobs for me and the mister?
Anyway...
The good news (did I write this already?) is that Asnat is staying with us for, it appears, another year; she can only stay until 12:30 so I will have to work with that. The bad news is that I still, as of this writing, have no way to get Barak home from nursery school in the afternoon. I have a ride in the morning, but that's it. So for now, I have to pick Iyyar up at playgroup 15 minutes early and walk the mile and a bit to get Barak. It's okay for right now, but once it gets cold it won't be.
Avtalyon is still not-quite-crawling. He gets up on all fours, pushes back with his feet, and propels himself forward a few inches while collapsing on his stomach; by doing this a few times in rapid succession, he gets around quite nicely, although not fast enough yet to be really dangerous. One thing he just started today was pushing his tush up and to the side, in one of the early stages of getting into a sitting position unassisted--I guess I'd better work with him on sitting, because for now he topples right over. He is so happy lying on his stomach, doing the swim and watching everything around him, that I don't spend nearly as much time with him as I probably should. Barak, at this age, demanded constant attention--he was too big to want to lie on his back, couldn't roll over or sit, hated being on his stomach, and basically either was in my arms or crying pretty much all the time. Good thing he was my first, hm?
Uh-oh. Avtalyon's awake and kvetching in his crib. He's already had his late-night snack, so I'm hoping he'll go back to sleep on his own. For the last couple of nights he's been waking up a few times in the night and then declaring morning at 5:15 am. It's getting a little wearing. Today I put Iyyar in his crib for a time-out--I don't remember now why--when Avtalyon was already napping. I thought I'd lie down on the couch for the allotted two minutes of Iyyar's confinement and guess what? Yup. I fell asleep. I don't know how long I was asleep for but suffice it to say that Iyyar was royally displeased when I finally came to rescue him.
Speaking of Iyyar, his phrase of the month is "cool water!" which is actually intended to be "cold water!" You have to be drinking water all the time here, and we usually keep a few emptied soda bottles full of water in the fridge. Although I don't think Iyyar really cares about the temperature in his sippy cup, he has heard us talk about cold water enough that he demands it himself. He also likes it when I give him ice and let him put it in there himself. "Iyyar do it! Iyyar do it by a self!"
He is also very fond of bicycles. The entry way of this building is a veritable parking lot of bicycles and strollers, and Iyyar wants them ALL. "Bike ull! Hell mut! Bike ull!" And he tries to climb on. Strangely, he has not at all been put off by the spill he took last week when we were in Beit El--three concrete steps down on a tricycle, landing on his face. One of his front teeth is now at a different angle than it was--think it'll fall out? I'm hoping not, baby tooth or no.
In case you haven't noticed, I'm tired and cranky. It's hot, I'm not getting enough sleep, the cost of living here is discouragingly high, we're leaving in a few days and I have a really intimidating amount on my plate both at work and at home. I'm hoping the people who rented our place left it clean, but there will still be a fair amount of apartment reassembly, not least of which will be putting away all the stuff I tossed in the back bedroom before we left. And returning the borrowed baby saucer to my SIL. And packing. And getting food for the trip. And cleaning the vomited-on car seat. And repacking the Shas, Shulchan Aruch, and assorted seforim into boxes sized in accordance with BA's luggage allotments. And so on.
Ah, well, it's all good. And tomorrow I'm taking Barak on a quick trip (without Avtalyon, so it'd better be quick) to the Tachana Merkazit for one last tichel-buying expedition. Hey, they're cheaper than seforim--and a lot lighter to pack.
Usually when this happens I sit down and write a list post. Today, I think I'll take more of a stream-of-consciousness approach. Bear with me, please.
I just got back from a skirt sale someone was holding at a neighbor's apartment. I went for the skirts but stayed for the shmoozing--it was mostly Anglos, a couple of new olim, and one who just got here a few weeks ago. She told me that she came on her pilot trip in January and saw nice rentals in this neighborhood for about $650. By the time she came in June, there was nothing--not even yucky little apartments--for under a thousand. They did not have the money for a nice place and did not want to live somewhere gross, so ended up renting something a half-hour walk away from the religious neighborhood. Not the way to an easy klita.
The religious neighborhood is, in fairness, spreading out and up the hill; the mayor does not want to zone any of the new neighborhoods being built as religious, feeling that the city should be integrated, but of course the religious families want to live together (in walking distance to the religious schools, happy minyans, and so on). Of course, as the desirable neighborhood spreads, so do the rents. I am hoping that in two years, our current timetable, the following three things will happen:
1. The Israeli real estate market will tank as it has already done in the states, making things more affordable;
2. The American real estate market will recover, such that it will be possible to sell our house without taking a massive loss (the woman I talked to tonight took a $70k loss on the sale of her house--doesn't bear thinking about);
3. The dollar will recover, at least to the level of, say, 4 NIS to the dollar.
Hey, a girl can dream, right? And while we're at it, how about good jobs for me and the mister?
Anyway...
The good news (did I write this already?) is that Asnat is staying with us for, it appears, another year; she can only stay until 12:30 so I will have to work with that. The bad news is that I still, as of this writing, have no way to get Barak home from nursery school in the afternoon. I have a ride in the morning, but that's it. So for now, I have to pick Iyyar up at playgroup 15 minutes early and walk the mile and a bit to get Barak. It's okay for right now, but once it gets cold it won't be.
Avtalyon is still not-quite-crawling. He gets up on all fours, pushes back with his feet, and propels himself forward a few inches while collapsing on his stomach; by doing this a few times in rapid succession, he gets around quite nicely, although not fast enough yet to be really dangerous. One thing he just started today was pushing his tush up and to the side, in one of the early stages of getting into a sitting position unassisted--I guess I'd better work with him on sitting, because for now he topples right over. He is so happy lying on his stomach, doing the swim and watching everything around him, that I don't spend nearly as much time with him as I probably should. Barak, at this age, demanded constant attention--he was too big to want to lie on his back, couldn't roll over or sit, hated being on his stomach, and basically either was in my arms or crying pretty much all the time. Good thing he was my first, hm?
Uh-oh. Avtalyon's awake and kvetching in his crib. He's already had his late-night snack, so I'm hoping he'll go back to sleep on his own. For the last couple of nights he's been waking up a few times in the night and then declaring morning at 5:15 am. It's getting a little wearing. Today I put Iyyar in his crib for a time-out--I don't remember now why--when Avtalyon was already napping. I thought I'd lie down on the couch for the allotted two minutes of Iyyar's confinement and guess what? Yup. I fell asleep. I don't know how long I was asleep for but suffice it to say that Iyyar was royally displeased when I finally came to rescue him.
Speaking of Iyyar, his phrase of the month is "cool water!" which is actually intended to be "cold water!" You have to be drinking water all the time here, and we usually keep a few emptied soda bottles full of water in the fridge. Although I don't think Iyyar really cares about the temperature in his sippy cup, he has heard us talk about cold water enough that he demands it himself. He also likes it when I give him ice and let him put it in there himself. "Iyyar do it! Iyyar do it by a self!"
He is also very fond of bicycles. The entry way of this building is a veritable parking lot of bicycles and strollers, and Iyyar wants them ALL. "Bike ull! Hell mut! Bike ull!" And he tries to climb on. Strangely, he has not at all been put off by the spill he took last week when we were in Beit El--three concrete steps down on a tricycle, landing on his face. One of his front teeth is now at a different angle than it was--think it'll fall out? I'm hoping not, baby tooth or no.
In case you haven't noticed, I'm tired and cranky. It's hot, I'm not getting enough sleep, the cost of living here is discouragingly high, we're leaving in a few days and I have a really intimidating amount on my plate both at work and at home. I'm hoping the people who rented our place left it clean, but there will still be a fair amount of apartment reassembly, not least of which will be putting away all the stuff I tossed in the back bedroom before we left. And returning the borrowed baby saucer to my SIL. And packing. And getting food for the trip. And cleaning the vomited-on car seat. And repacking the Shas, Shulchan Aruch, and assorted seforim into boxes sized in accordance with BA's luggage allotments. And so on.
Ah, well, it's all good. And tomorrow I'm taking Barak on a quick trip (without Avtalyon, so it'd better be quick) to the Tachana Merkazit for one last tichel-buying expedition. Hey, they're cheaper than seforim--and a lot lighter to pack.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Six days
Not the war. How much time we have left here. Six days.
This morning I took Barak up to the kanyon, otherwise known as the mall; we took the bus, did a big grocery shop at Mr. Zol (literally, Mr. Cheap, but it isn't at all--Sheffa Shuk was a lot less expensive), and I am pleased to report that I successfully managed to order grocery delivery in Hebrew. I wasn't totally sure it would arrive, but it did. Barak left his hat in the store, but we went back and got it, and then took the bus back home.
We spent, just for the record, a little over NIS 500 on groceries today. It was what I would consider a normal week's grocery shop, not counting fruit, vegetables, milk, or bread, which I usually buy daily. That's around $150. There were some expensive items in there--a pack of diapers, a five-pack of wipes--but those are normal components of our grocery tab. I did not buy anything along the lines of paper goods, cleaning supplies, shampoo, or anything like that. I also did not buy any meat, although I did buy some extra things to take back to the States, which probably balanced that out. This means that I can reasonably expect to spend around $800 a month on food here--about a quarter of what I could expect my monthly take-home income to be. And our kids aren't even eating that much yet. And we have all boys.
How do people do it here? The food costs more. The housing costs the same. Transportation, so far as buses, is slightly cheaper and much better, and maybe clothes are cheaper, but the quality is lower so they don't last as long. I know that part of how expensive everything feels is the weak dollar, but even with the dollar being weak American salaries are still way higher than Israeli salaries. How in the world does anyone buy an apartment here, let alone a house or a car? I feel like I've asked everyone in the world this and the most common answer is a shrug and a gaze off into the middle distance. I've had a few people tell me that they rely on nissim, which is one approach I guess but it's not one I'm entirely comfortable with myself.
Yes, tuition is much lower here. That's huge. But we're not really paying that yet, so we're not feeling it as much.
I'd better go help Abba get the kids out of the bathtub. More later.
This morning I took Barak up to the kanyon, otherwise known as the mall; we took the bus, did a big grocery shop at Mr. Zol (literally, Mr. Cheap, but it isn't at all--Sheffa Shuk was a lot less expensive), and I am pleased to report that I successfully managed to order grocery delivery in Hebrew. I wasn't totally sure it would arrive, but it did. Barak left his hat in the store, but we went back and got it, and then took the bus back home.
We spent, just for the record, a little over NIS 500 on groceries today. It was what I would consider a normal week's grocery shop, not counting fruit, vegetables, milk, or bread, which I usually buy daily. That's around $150. There were some expensive items in there--a pack of diapers, a five-pack of wipes--but those are normal components of our grocery tab. I did not buy anything along the lines of paper goods, cleaning supplies, shampoo, or anything like that. I also did not buy any meat, although I did buy some extra things to take back to the States, which probably balanced that out. This means that I can reasonably expect to spend around $800 a month on food here--about a quarter of what I could expect my monthly take-home income to be. And our kids aren't even eating that much yet. And we have all boys.
How do people do it here? The food costs more. The housing costs the same. Transportation, so far as buses, is slightly cheaper and much better, and maybe clothes are cheaper, but the quality is lower so they don't last as long. I know that part of how expensive everything feels is the weak dollar, but even with the dollar being weak American salaries are still way higher than Israeli salaries. How in the world does anyone buy an apartment here, let alone a house or a car? I feel like I've asked everyone in the world this and the most common answer is a shrug and a gaze off into the middle distance. I've had a few people tell me that they rely on nissim, which is one approach I guess but it's not one I'm entirely comfortable with myself.
Yes, tuition is much lower here. That's huge. But we're not really paying that yet, so we're not feeling it as much.
I'd better go help Abba get the kids out of the bathtub. More later.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Not for those with fear of heights
That's Iyyar, on our mirpeset. To the left of him, outside of the picture, is Jerusalem; to the right is a whole lotta desert. After I checked out this apartment for the first time and went back to Ramat Beit Shemesh, I tried to explain to my husband what it looked like here.
"It's really... biblical." I said. "Well, I mean, of course it's biblical. It's Israel. But it's biblical in a kind of apocalyptic way. It's just really, really, really intense."
Which it is.
Biblical. And intense.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Moving on
We're clearing out of this apartment today and heading to a new place in Maale Adumim, where we'll be for a little under two weeks. It's kind of incredible that we've been here for over seven weeks already--didn't I just unpack these bags?
A lot has happened since I posted last. Barak has spent the last couple of weeks at Camp Kinderlach--yes, really--which he loves so much that a mere "Barak, do you want to go to camp tomorrow?" in a mildly threatening tone is enough to get him to go to bed. Iyyar has started talking like you wouldn't believe--he's gone from "Ah wanna dat!" to "I need da oder one blankie also!" and, waking from a bad dream, "I no gike it DODDIE!"--two days after we came back from visiting a friend in Efrat with some of the sweetest dogs ever. And yesterday a new phase in brotherly love was reached, with both Barak and Iyyar wrestling on the couch and onto the floor--while giggling.
Avtalyon is crawling like the minute hand of a clock--if you glance at him he doesn't look like he's going anywhere, but if you glance back a couple of minutes later, whoa, how did he get all the way over there, and is that Barak's sneaker in his mouth?!
More later--speaking of the baby, he just woke up.
A lot has happened since I posted last. Barak has spent the last couple of weeks at Camp Kinderlach--yes, really--which he loves so much that a mere "Barak, do you want to go to camp tomorrow?" in a mildly threatening tone is enough to get him to go to bed. Iyyar has started talking like you wouldn't believe--he's gone from "Ah wanna dat!" to "I need da oder one blankie also!" and, waking from a bad dream, "I no gike it DODDIE!"--two days after we came back from visiting a friend in Efrat with some of the sweetest dogs ever. And yesterday a new phase in brotherly love was reached, with both Barak and Iyyar wrestling on the couch and onto the floor--while giggling.
Avtalyon is crawling like the minute hand of a clock--if you glance at him he doesn't look like he's going anywhere, but if you glance back a couple of minutes later, whoa, how did he get all the way over there, and is that Barak's sneaker in his mouth?!
More later--speaking of the baby, he just woke up.
Friday, August 01, 2008
More firsts
Iyyar's first really complete sentence, as of about five minutes ago.
Background (as always): as some of you may know I have, er, a certain fondness for Diet Coke. Nothing, you know, addiction-like or anything, certainly. Just a healthy--um--I mean--a fondness. Right.
Anyway... where were we. Oh yes. So, while Barak sees me drink Diet Coke and has long since accepted that he never, ever gets any, Iyyar has not given up hope. But he knows that the direct ask will get him nowhere. So he tries subterfuge. He doesn't want Diet Coke--no no. He wants water. That water, that I have. The kind that just happens to be cold, black and fizzy. And in a Diet Coke bottle.
I just came back from dropping Barak off at gan and was sitting at the kitchen table drinking what my mother used to refer to as the Elixir of Life when Iyyar noticed. "Amma? Water? Please?"
"Nice try, Iyyar. No. That's not for you."
Brightly and winningly: "That water! That water please!"
"No. Sorry. Not a chance."
Lifting froggy cup, eyes fixed purposely on prize, leaning forward in high chair, "I want that water in here!"
Background (as always): as some of you may know I have, er, a certain fondness for Diet Coke. Nothing, you know, addiction-like or anything, certainly. Just a healthy--um--I mean--a fondness. Right.
Anyway... where were we. Oh yes. So, while Barak sees me drink Diet Coke and has long since accepted that he never, ever gets any, Iyyar has not given up hope. But he knows that the direct ask will get him nowhere. So he tries subterfuge. He doesn't want Diet Coke--no no. He wants water. That water, that I have. The kind that just happens to be cold, black and fizzy. And in a Diet Coke bottle.
I just came back from dropping Barak off at gan and was sitting at the kitchen table drinking what my mother used to refer to as the Elixir of Life when Iyyar noticed. "Amma? Water? Please?"
"Nice try, Iyyar. No. That's not for you."
Brightly and winningly: "That water! That water please!"
"No. Sorry. Not a chance."
Lifting froggy cup, eyes fixed purposely on prize, leaning forward in high chair, "I want that water in here!"
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Look out, world...
Six months and a few days. For the record, Barak sat unassisted for the first time at around 8.5 months; both Barak and Iyyar started crawling at 10.5. Avtalyon isn't quite crawling, in that he hasn't worked out coordinating the movement of arms and legs at the same time. What he does, instead, is get up on all fours in sort of a downward dog yoga pose, push off with his feet, and propel himself a few inches forward on his belly; then he does the Baby Swim a little and starts the whole routine over. He can move quite a ways like this, with surprising speed.
Barak is loving camp, much more than he liked gan, probably because there is much less sitting still and doing of projects involved. And now that Barak is out of the house in the mornings again, I am having more of that one-on-one time with Iyyar that I was enjoying so much. Today, for the first time, he said "please"--not "bee" but actually "please." And he gave me bunches of hugs, when I sat on the floor, pretending to cry, and asked for them. The favorite word of the day, though, is "gawquit." As in, Iyyar spies jar of Nutella on counter and wants some: "Imma? Gawquit?" And then, winningly and irresistibly, "Please?"
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