Tag Archives: mother

The Wheels Turn

Eyes closed, head back leaning against the wall, she listened to herself breathe. In and out, rise and fall, intensify and release. It wasn’t bad day, just a busy one. With each intake she felt a pressure mount behind her eyes, and when let out, the pressure turned to pleasure, with deep warmth and envelopment of mind.

“Are you coming?” he called from the room.

She opened her eyes, looked around a bit, the kitchen was clean.

“Coming.” She answered.

The dry dishes were then put into the cabinets, the shoes, lined up for the next morning, his phone plugged in to charge, books gathered into one pile on the table, the box of tissues, out of reach of the baby, now put back on the table, the alarm set, the light in the kitchen switched off, the hallway one, flicked on. She walked toward the room, stopping in the laundry room to put the dryer back on.

She was ready for bed.


Posted by on November 14, 2012 in Family


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And Many Miles to Go Before I Sleep

My mother tells me it’s time for a new blog post. She’s bored of visiting my blog, disappointed when she sees nothing new. I told her to set up a Google reader account to save her the agmas nefesh. Forget about setting it up being too difficult for her, she didn’t really understand its function when I tried explaining it. But never mind that.

I agree with my mother, it is time for a new blog post. And I have a lot to say – I’m just too busy doing nothing to say it. Nothing is relative of course. I spend most of my day tending to my adorable, but perpetually cranky baby. Or I’m in bed sleeping. Some old adages are right and smart – Sleep when the baby sleeps.
So the adage works with your first kid, but when you have a kid running around it’s not so easy to say,

“Ooh yay, the baby shtunker is finally sleeping – I’ll pop in for a nap – if that’s ok with you E – don’t break my china teacups like you almost did yesterday, k?”

Well, I suppose it’s easy to say, not to do.

So…I’m a little homebound and going out of my mind. I went to the park in my complex a few days this week. The other women looked at me in wonderment – what was I doing outside?!! And I was thinking, Oh G-d I can’t believe it took me this long to get outside. Seriously, I don’t think I was outdoors for a week after I had the baby. And besides cranky babies magically shut up outside – nature’s best.

It’s only three weeks, and it feels like months (well, when your night turn into days, and days nights and there’s a point where you can’t differentiate between the two because you’re too busy pacing your hallways, arms jiggling, trying to calm a baby, time seems to pass Reeeeeeeally slowly.) I don’t even remember what it feels like to be pregnant – yes, I did just write that. I don’t remember, there’s too much overriding it.

I taught Macbeth this year; I didn’t think I could ever relate to him, but I do now: Act II Scene II

Macbeth: Methought I heard a voice cry ‘Sleep no more!”

So bear with me, while I bear with my baby.


Posted by on July 16, 2012 in Parenting, Slice of Life


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Mazal Tov!

It’s a boy!

7lb, 6oz

19 inches

Born 11:52 p.m. June 24th 2012

He is perfect (takes after his Mommy)


Posted by on June 25, 2012 in Parenting, Slice of Life


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Mein Leben

I will no longer judge those women. Those women by the dairy section piling cartons of Lebens, cheese snacks, and puddings of the sort. I used to (as of yesterday) wonder if they knew what garbage they were feeding their child. And if they didn’t, why not. And if they did, why are they still doing it.

Now I’m not a health nut. I will not send my kid to school with just carrots and rice cakes. However, they will not be bringing two snacks for every recess. I’m not against Lebens and pudding, they taste great, but they’re treats, not every day breakfast.

Today that all changed. As I passed the Dairy Section in my grocery contemplating which yogurt to buy my malnourished child, there was one of those women there. She had two boisterous brats sitting in the cart seat, one lagging alongside her, and man was she going at them. She bought 3 dozen, all neatly lined and stacked.  They looked good, I think I wanted one for myself. After I gave her nasty sidelong glances and she obliviously went on her merry way I looked at the nutrition label –just out of curiosity.

Did you know there are close to 200 calories in one Leben, and it has a 20% daily value of calcium? My kid needs calories, and calcium. I bought one, just one, to see if he’d even eat it.

Unsettled by my purchase, I planned waiting a day or two to give it to him. He found it though while I was unpacking and asked for it with a fervent,

“uuh, uh, uuuuuuuuuuh!!”

I gave it to him.

He inhaled it.

First he downed it with a spoon, (really a straw, but he got impatient that it was so thick and he had to suck for so long before it came, that he gave up and demand a spoon [more fervent “uuh, uh, uuuuuuuuuuuhhs!!), but when the spoon wasn’t adequate, he drank it, used  it like a cup. There was nothing left.

I’m torn, my kid ate, which is wonderful, miraculous really – but I really don’t want Lebens to be commonplace in my house. If I continue down this road, I’ll soon be listening to Uncle Moishy, and Morah Music, despite me having standards.

The slippery slope of parenting, I’ve only started the decent, but I think I get it. I’m only a few weeks away from buying stock in Lebens, please don’t judge me.

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Posted by on February 3, 2012 in Humor, Parenting


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Today’s Menu, Tomorrow’s Mincings


Image via Wikipedia

What my kid ate for supper:

  • 1/2 a fish stick
  • 5 pieces of whole wheat pasta
  • 1 tablespoon ketchup
  • 1/2 slice cheese
  • 6 pieces of whole wheat pasta with marinara sauce and cheese
  • 2oz of orange juice
  • ¼ of a yogurt

What my kitchen floor ate:

  • 4 ½ fish sticks
  • ½ cup whole wheat pasta
  • ½ slice of cheese
  • 2 cups of whole wheat pasta with marinara sauce and cheese
  • 6oz of orange juice
  • ¾ of a yogurt
  • 1 challah roll slathered in cream cheese

I call him my anorexic kid. He plays with his food, swirls it around his plate, cuts it up, looks at it closely, but does not eat it.

He also doesn’t drink milk, hence the high dairy content to attempt a compensation. I tried giving it to him again the other day, he took a swig (after resisting for a half hour), held it in his mouth for a moment, then let it all dribble out like a madman onto the chair he was standing on – the chair with the spongy cushion, which will soon smell like spoiled milk.

The doctor says he’s underweight, even if everyone else thinks he’s a chubba-wubba.

Any suggestions?


Posted by on January 30, 2012 in Humor, Parenting


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My kid pooped in the tub today. I write that like it’s something new; it’s not. He seems to do it every time he takes a bath. The whole thing is perfectly planned, as the water is going down, near the end, he’ll start crouching and I know what’s coming.

And I have to clean and disinfect the whole bathtub because when I try to pick up the poop with a stack of tissues, it usually breaks apart and floats away in a million itty bitty pieces. I reek like Lysol, which I suppose is a better reek than others. Sometimes I wonder what I prefer.

If he did it before I gave him a bath, then, I have to wipe him down before the bath, dump him in the bath and clean him again.

If he did it after, then I basically cleaned him for nothing, and I have to wipe him down, change his diaper, the gantza gesheft.

If he does it when he currently does it, it’s a clean wipe, and even though I’m complaining about cleaning the bathtub, it’s actually easier than cleaning him (hint: the tub doesn’t resist or fight back)

I asked my mother in the classic “Would you rather…” form.

“Bathtub, just scoop it up in a cup and it’s done.”

Ahhhh, a cup, that’s genius, I am now happy with my lot.


Posted by on January 29, 2012 in Humor, Parenting


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SuperWoman: Reality or Myth

Pinwheels, makes me think of little kids with spittle flying out of their over-puffed cheeks, blowing on shiny metallic plastic. And then it makes me think of a pastry confection that real almost only in my mind

My mother used to make pinwheel cookies. Pastry dough, measured, and cut into perfect squares. Then with precise cuts, and folds, she made pinwheels. With ground walnuts, apricot jam, and sugar in the center, baked, and then dusted with confectioner’s sugar, they were a beauty to see, as well as eat.

Memories of my mother making them are vague, I remember seeing them on the counter, waiting to be baked, as well as a faint whiff of baked nuts and pastry dough as I bit into them. I don’t know my mother as a woman who patchkes, my older sister remember this side of her, down to the ruler she used to measure the pastry squares. To me my mother will always be practical. Go to the bakery practical.

I always saw women who patchked as otherworldly. Who were these people the time and patience, and most of all, the wherewithal to make these things. Make things like wrap their own gifts like a department store, make Royal Icing cookies to rival the professional designs, make their own techina and tomato dip that tasted right and real. I was always in secret awe and envy of these women. Superwomen I called them.

And slowly, slowly, the longer I am married, I find myself becoming my own dream. Not because I chose to pursue it, but pressure and necessity brings out the best in me.

I make my own techina and tomato dip (the tomato dip is awesome, techina, not so, my husband still prefers Golden Taste). I wrap my own gifts, and while there’s a way to go, I’m not embarrassed of them. And then this past week – I succeeded fully in one endeavor. I created the pinwheels.

I called my mother and asked her for the recipe and instructions. And took what was a childhood memory for me, and passed it on to my own. They came out beautiful, and the person whose Shalom Zachor I sent them to, asked me how it was done – she had never seen something like it (that really made me feel like I was achieving Super status).

It’s empowering, to take a challenge, like a lack of financial resources and do something you never thought was in your lazy-self’s realm. My cape is on backorder, but my superpowers are here to stay.



Posted by on January 8, 2012 in Slice of Life


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Perspective On Perfection

My son is gorgeous. Not to brag, but everyone wants to know when his Gerber contract is coming through. His smile is broad and happy. His eyes a deep blue twinkle, framed with long dark lashes. He has a full head of dirty blonde hair, which looks real cute in a faux Mohawk. And his cheeks are full, fat and a little droopy.

My son is calm, easy going, and well behaved. He only cries when he’s hungry, or hurt, or tired. When he’s teething he’s a bit kvetchy, but even then.  He’s happy go lucky, pleasing, plays nicely by himself, and lets me breathe. He also sleeps through the night and wakes up about 8:30 in the morning. He rarely gets sick, and seems to have a solid immune system.

My son is a bit advanced. He was sitting by 4 months, crawling by 6. He’s standing on his own for a few seconds at a time these days, and is of course cruising. He has 2 teeth, and says Ma-ma. He has a pretty decent pincer grip for his age. He has great problem solving navigational skills, and is quite the explorer.

People ask what  I did to deserve such a gorgeous, genius, good child. I don’t look at it that way.

Hashem only gives a person what he can handle. I can only handle perfection apparently. That’s not too good.


Posted by on May 1, 2011 in Parenting


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I Thought I Knew

I’m a cliché, watching my son sleep. His head is lilted back; mouth set in a pout, and his arm thrown up in surrender to sleep. I’m watching, and loving, and I can stand here all day perched at the edge of his crib. I can describe what I’m feeling: an overwhelming, crushing sensation of emotion that almost hurts, but it’s so beautiful and tender, and just let myself bathe in it; I can’t explain it though.

I thought when I got married that I experienced and found a new definition to love. And that love made sense, the give, the take, the give. But it seems motherhood has its own definition and depth and length of love, and there is no defying it, cultivating it, nurturing it, it just is. Eternal.

I stand here a little longer, gazing intently at my son. He stirs and I jump. But then he’s restful again, and I breathe. I break my connection, and slowly leave the room, turning back just once more before I leave.

Picking up the phone, I dial the familiar numbers it seems for the umpteenth time today.

“Hello?” a rushed voice answers.

“I never knew how much you love me, Ma” I reply.


Posted by on January 9, 2011 in Parenting


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Saving the World, One Inadequacy At a Time

We Can Do It poster for Westinghouse, closely ...

Image via Wikipedia

I never fully appreciated what a good person I am, and the amazing service I provide for humanity.

You know when you’re nervous about doing something, anxious about the process, can you do it, make it, or will it ever happen to you? Like can you land a job, get a date, get married, pass your road test, manage labor naturally, be a mother, or father?

One tool people find very helpful is to find someone who they would generally think very unlikely to complete that given task or milestone, and to pump yourself up and say “If they can do it, then I totally can!”

Basically, by putting the other person down, because you believe them to be weaker or more incompetent than you, or incompatible in some way or another, you get this reassurance that if they can do it, you can to, and a drive to prove that right.

We’re all guilty of this. I looked at some friends when it came to driving, completing assignments, getting the courage to speak up…

Of course there is a major flaw in this whole system because the whole premise is that you perceive the other person to be lacking, and that you are not. Key word is perceive, perception is not objective reality. But never mind the flaws, the system works for a lot of people (well, most people, until they fail to achieve whatever it is).

So, who are these pathetic beings that people use to make themselves feel better about themselves, give them courage and hope in hard and dark times. Who are these selfless saviors of humanity that selflessly achieve just for others to believe that they can do it to?

Well, one person…ME!

I did the world a great favor by getting married. If I could get married to the type of man that I did, then anyone else can get the man of their dream.

I also encouraged the world by having a baby. You see I’m not exactly the poster child for motherhood, I scare kids, and babies and I don’t have a sweet high pitch cooing bone in my body. I had a baby (well, anyone can have a baby, there are 13 year old doing it every day), am managing just fine, and I am a very maternal cootchie mootchie mother. Never mind the fact that I always said I hated kids, and just give them to me as teenagers.

So for those of you who wondered if you will ever get married, and those who lie awake at night wondering if you could manage the mandatory sleep deprivation that motherhood demands, you owe me one, because today you know YOU CAN!


Posted by on September 2, 2010 in Humor


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