Sunday, July 25, 2010

updates to yesterday...

1) Llama loved 'camp' at Morah Shoshi's, hurray! Shoshi said she behaved like she had been there all year, and she mentioned that Lam ate really nicely, in marked contrast to...

2) Sroch today ate half a bowl of cornflakes, half a cottage cheese sandwich, 10 pretzels, one igloo, 1/4 of a tomato, 1/2 cup of cottage cheese, and one slice of toast with butter.

Oh, and some undisclosed 'treat' at camp.

2b) note that at her 6 hours at camp, all she consumed was the half sandwich. The girl runs on fumes.

2c) not to imply that she smells anything less than lovely.

She liked camp too, thank God.

Cha cha cha cha cha changes...

(With apologies to the Goblin King)

Item one: Took Sroch to the doctor on Thursday to check out a persistent cough (just fine, thank God) and doc finds she's lost weight and not grown in the last month. Booger. Doc shmoozes Sroch out about eating more, I do the same, and start putting chocolate chips in her Cheerios once again. For shabbos I bought her a bag of those completely misnamed 'American' peanuts, which she ate. Yay fat!

For one of us. Pity the girl hates to eat alone, crunch crunch.

Item two: She starts camp tomorrow (today? It's late!). Her counselor is the daughter of one of the childhood education experts in the neighborhood. Score. Llama will be going to Sroch's old afternoon teacher for two weeks of 'camp', and when I say 'camp' I mean 'whatever I could find for her while her metapelet is on vacation but I'm sure she'll love it, gulp.'

Item three: No, I still don't know where Sroch is going to school next year (next month). I'll explain... No no, too long. Let me sum up:

Sep 09: Sroch attends school A in school A's location (location X).
Nov 09: School B gets new location (location Y) on our block, allows A to use it for the year since A already has a classful of girls from our block. Sroch continues to travel for afternoon care down to X three times a week.
Jan-Apr 10: Much speculation about what next year will be - A in Y, A in X, B in Y, QWERTY in JKL, etc.

I won't bother you with more, but suffice to say, Sroch will either be in Y with B (which I don't want) or X with A (which I do, because of the afternoon program, but only if they keep all our girls together, of which there are about 15 who also want A instead of B). What will she do if she's in B for afternoons? No idea. B claims they will have an afternoon program down the block (Y prime) but only if enough girls sign up, and A and B are still trying to work out if they're really zoning the neighborhood or not which is mildly preposterous since this is a private school system, and, oh, oy vey.

Fortunately, at least Llama's schooling is all set for next year!

Right?

Right?

Um...


Item four: Llama's metapelet who we love and who has been another mother to my girl just announced she's moving in October. (This after I had just given her a big candy/chocolate thing as an end of the year gift. I restrained from asking for it back. Barely.)

Now, she'd LIKE to move in the neighborhood, stay on the block. Hyperventilate, hyperventilate. But she hasn't found anything yet. Hoo hoo haaaah, hoo hoo haaaah. You see, I picked Llama's gan for next year because it was ACROSS THE STREET from the metapelet, who could then be HER afternoon program, where she'd be happy (see second mother comment) and get good food and a nap and all those things, and now SHE MAY NOT EVEN BE WITHIN WALKING DISTANCE and Llama at 2 will be a little too young to take the bus alone.

Heee heee heee hoooooo. Heee heee heee hoooooo.

Item five: Hashem is still running the world. He hasn't let us down yet, and he never will. Solutions will be found, Hashem will provide, my children will be fine and educated and, despite Sroch's claim today that she doesn't "ever" want to learn to read, they will get there.

And not be axe murderers.

Or grow up addicted to butter.

[whimper, whimper]

So.... know of any apartments for sale on my block? Occupancy October?

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Imagine

Imagine a child, a beloved, rosy cheeked child who has known nothing but caring and attention their entire life, a baby standing up in their crib because the sun has come up and it is morning.

And they cry out for their mother... and there is no answer.

The gentle cries turn to louder ones, tears start, crying turns to screaming... and there is no answer.

The child doesn't even have the vocabulary to understand what they are missing, what they are fearing, all they know is they are feeling utterly alone, utterly abandoned, utterly destitute, and they scream with every scrap of volume they can muster... and there is no answer.

But just outside the door, their parent is there. And the parent is crying too, because they want nothing more than to rush to the side of the crib and pick up the child and give them everything they need, and more.

But the door is closed, the child cannot hear the parent, and the parent cannot come to the child.

...

This is Tisha B'av. We sit on the floor, and we cry, and something touches something deep within us, and we have a glimmer of that yearning, that all-encompassing desire for our parent to come and lift us up... but we don't even know what it is we're missing.

The metaphor of a young child isn't exactly right, because in so many ways, it is our own actions that have shut that door, we have failed to meet the conditions set by the parent for the door to be opened, and so we cry alone... and Hashem on his side of the door cries as well.

And yet the young child metaphor does work, because do we even appreciate what it is we're crying for? Not just the past tragedies, tragedies of 2000 years ago, 200 years ago, last year - not just those. But the tragedy that is tomorrow, that will be another day in a world where Hashem's presence isn't revealed, where we are so bereft of all that COULD be.




Sitting here on the floor with Shulamis, playing with her instead of sitting in shul, coaxing her to eat (she had stomach virus, nicely on the mend now, thank God)... sitting here with my beloved child and contemplating the immense tragedies of Jewish history and the fact that children - babies! - like her were slaughtered, is truly crushing, awesome and searing. But the fear that I have for the rest of my children's lives that they may live their entire lives in a world where God's face is still hidden is equally crushing.

May I see the redemption soon, but forget about me. May my children see it. May they live without fear, may they serve God as naturally as they breathe, may no enemy strike them down. May their communities exist without strife, may they love and be loved by all of klal yisroel, and may they see the rebuilt Beis Hamikdash and all the redemption in their lifetimes, soon, easily and healthily, amen.

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Llamazilla

Last week, I was telling some friend about how nicely my girls go to sleep, specifically Srochel for her Friday and shabbos naps, and Llama at night.

Ho ho. Ho ho ho. Ho ho!

Needless to say, Sroch was a mess when it came to her Shabbos nap and she's been pulling lots of, "Why do you always hold Lamis FIRST?! I want you to hold ME first! You NEVER hold me first!" and so on. (Fortunately, her Abba has been around a lot, and he's way better and bedtime-stall extrication than I.)

And Llama... Llama has decided that, much as she loves her shloof, it's a lot more amusing to make Mommy cover her eight skabillion times and cry whenever she leaves the room. Tonight, attempting to avoid that, I stayed in the room (Sroch pacified with her mp3 player) and sang to Llama from the recliner... And my darling little baby who is daring to think about turning 2 (in - gasp! - three months!) stood up in her little blue shorts and 'Eat Sleep Poop' shirt and stomped around the crib like Godzilla (the toddler years) going "arrrr" and crib surfing with arms out (her stomping was enough to make the crib on wheels move back and forth across the floor).

Arrr, indeed.

Monday, July 05, 2010

Sroch's gan party, in her own words*

*Okay, not REALLY her own words, cause she's like, you know, asleep. Thank God. But these WOULD have been her own words, and gosh, I should know, because I hear many, many, MANY of her own words daily, and especially nightly. At bedtime tonight, for example, she finally answered a question I've asked many times as follows:

"I come into your bed in the middle of the night because I like for you to listen to everything I want to say."

Anyway, here ya go. As you'll surmise (maybe), the 'theme' of the performance was dreaming of the future, what profession to be, and the main milestones of life, being "baby," "kallah" (that's bride for those of you who read this blog only once every year or two), and of course, "savta." I think the real Savta (who got to attend) was somewhat bemused, but undoubtedly complimented when Sroch told her later that she wasn't an OLD savta like they were pretending to be. Phew.

Sroch had her handmotions and most words down beautifully, and was - unsurprisingly - the most perfectest four year old in the room. Unbiased opinion, of course.

And I only cried through half of it.

Further proof that I'm the coolest mom in the world

Or, "further adventures in parenting courtesy of food coloring."

Shulamis picked "boo" for tonight's bath.
 


She was hugely grinning here. Really. It just LOOKS like she's howling, but she loved it.

REALLY!

(why doesn't anyone believe me???)
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Llama goes to Woodstock

Between the retro bathing suit that makes her look like a go-go dancer, and the ambient mud and dirt and grass from our backyard pool party... what next, Country Joe and the Fish(sticks)?
 

 
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Friday, July 02, 2010

Some pictures part III - okay, just one

Preview of the cuteness of the gan party.
 
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some pictures part two

 

Sroch's idea of high entertainment: listening to music while watching the Windows Media Player visualizations (the only problem is how she constantly calls me, "Mommy, look at this one! Wait, look at THIS one! Look quick!" etc).
 

 

 
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some pictures part 1

 

So big, as we try to put on our big sister's discarded underwear.
 

These days, we have to do EVERYTHING the same. Essentially.
 

 
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Identity

Last night, for the first time, we had this from the little Llama:

(points at belly) "Belly. Mine. Belly. Lamis belly."

LAMIS!!! She has identified herself!!!! This is a big deal!

In general, she is Big. Like so grown-up... two days ago she had her first tantrum, and I'm talking irrational, walk over to toys and books and throw them on the floor in angst, throwing self on the floor, kicking and screaming, and not even asking for her pacifier. And she talks all the time, although, alas, I cannot always understand her, because her babble is a combination of English, Hebrew and, occasionally, French.

I need to write all about Sroch's end of the year (only cried through half the party!) but I've received complaints from my father that I needed to blog something now (no one else complains because it seems no one else reads them. Ahem. You're all fired). So here, have some gratuitous photographs, in post number two.