Tag Archives: family

Father’s Day Thoughts About Tatty

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Tatty at the beach with his boychiks

We don’t really do much for Father’s Day in our house.  My husband didn’t grow up with it (partially a cultural thing), and he’s usually working every Sunday anyways, and I’m lousy about remembering to get a card.  However, since the internet is lit up with homages to all things father today, I’ve reflected on how appreciative I am of my husband’s fathering.

It’s true that a father is not a mother.  Someone once told me that while women are, in general, anticipatory, seeing all the possible dangers which could befall our children and doing our best to prevent them, men are reactionary.  They don’t always see the obvious (to a mother) effects from the cause.  This is definitely true in our house, and the source of much frustration for me, as I can be rather rigid about order and the like.

However, my husband’s relaxed attitude and penchant for playing rather energetically with the boys is likely why is such a resounding hit with them.  They LOVE playing with Tatty.  He is a blast.  He has a seemingly endless ability to run around, chasing one boy with another on his shoulders.  For pushing them around the apartment complex’s courtyard in the Power Wheels SUV we inherited from a neighbor.  For playing horsey and firetruck and mountain and whatever the boys imagine him into.

His bedtime stories trump mine, hands down.  He invents long, meandering tales involving car chases, lightning, explosions, and other things that little boys find enthralling.  He doesn’t think about the length of time it’s taking to complete this part of the bedtime ritual, rather, he provides incomparable entertainment and invaluable quality time with his sons.

He makes a killer cream of wheat (or farina, as he calls it) for breakfast.  I’m sure the boys can taste the love he puts into the meal as he adds milk, honey, and vanilla to ensure that this otherwise simple breakfast tastes divine.  He’s also been known to make delicious eggs for breakfast, and is always mindful of adding just the right amount of spices to the boys’ noodles, eggs, or whatever otherwise bland foods they prefer.

He isn’t shy about being affectionate with the kids.  They all get lots of hugs and kisses and pats on the head and holding of hands.  There will not be doubt in their minds that their father loves them very much.

He changes diapers.  Even poopy ones.

While he does his thing in a decidedly male and non-motherly manner, that is his role as a father.  A role he excels at.  And I’m so grateful that he’s the father of my children, and I look forward to many father’s days in the future, regardless of whether or not we actually celebrate them.

Are you doing anything for the fathers in your life?

(oh my gosh, I just realized that I need to call my father, who definitely does celebrate Father’s Day!  Yoinks!)

Our Thanksgiving Shabbos Tradition

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We didn’t live near any relatives when I was growing up, and since my mother doesn’t particularly enjoy cooking (I think her motto is something like “cook to survive”), Thanksgiving wasn’t ever a big to-do for us.  However, when my family moved to St. Louis twelve years ago, we found ourselves close to family, and that family could COOK!  Boy, could they cook.  We started spending Thanksgiving together, and I enjoyed the food, the camaraderie with cousins I had never really known, and the overall atmosphere.  It was a new holiday experience.

Of course, once I started keeping kosher, I wasn’t able to partake of the yummy food anymore, and then I went and studied in Israel, and then I got married and moved away from family.  My husband didn’t exactly grow up with any Thanksgiving traditions (ah, cultural differences), and since I make the food quantity equivalent of Thanksgiving every week, I was okay with forgoing the tradition.

Until my parents came to visit us over Thanksgiving weekend three years ago, that is.

My parents are great, and they come visit as much as they are able to, which we love.  Oftentimes, this means they are sacrificing their holiday time to come be with us (I think the grandkids are really the main draw).  So, three years ago, they decided to come over their Thanksgiving vacation.

I realized that my parents, while they aren’t foodies by any stretch of the imagination, would still be missing out on the yumminess of all that good food.  I found out that my mom had been telling her co-workers that even though she wasn’t going to be having a Thanksgiving meal, the trip was well worth it (grandkids are yummier than turkey with stuffing, after all).  And I greatly appreciated their sacrifice, as well as the massive consideration they give to us whenever they come visit.  Our lifestyle is just a touch different than theirs, after all.

So, while I was not about to make Thanksgiving only to make Shabbos a day later (or to serve leftovers on Shabbos, which just doesn’t do it for me), I wanted to do something for my parents, to show our appreciation.  I decided to make a Thanksgiving-themed Shabbos.  We had done Chinese Shabbos, Mexican Shabbos, what have you, so why not a Thanksgiving Shabbos?

nothing to see here....

I pored over my November issues of Bon Appetit and put together a spectacular menu.  Turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie – the works.  I was really excited about this.

My favorite part of this plan is that I didn’t tell my parents what I was planning.  Not until Thursday night, when I needed to start making the turkey (an 11-pound turkey is not something I could be discrete about).  My mom and I had a blast preparing the turkey together, as well as making the rest of the dishes.

It was a very memorable meal, and my parents were so grateful.  My mother was able to return to the office bragging about the fantastic Thanksgiving meal she enjoyed!

And so our tradition of Thanksgiving Shabbos began.  This year will be the third that my parents will be joining us, and while I no longer have the time or energy to make a super-gourmet meal (sorry, Bon Appetit), I still stick to the theme.  Also, my parents are both on diets, so I exercised a good amount of self-control and scaled back the amount of food.  Here is my menu for this year:

Friday night:

Pumpkin Challah (I have already tried this one, and it is super yummy!)

Green bean salad (with craisins, fried onions and creamy dressing, à la the casserole)

Twice-Baked Sweet Potatoes (from Kosher by Design Lightens Up)

Glazed Turkey Roast with Cranberry Chutney (also KBDLU)

Frozen Pumpkin Pie (again, KBDLU)

Shabbos day:

Everything I served Friday night minus the roast.  I’m skipping a cholent and making this:

Sweet Potato and Turkey Deli Roll (KBDLU)

~ ~ ~

I’m really looking forward to spending another Thanksgiving Shabbos with family, and happy to continue this new tradition for my kids.

Do you have any Thanksgiving traditions? 

Women Who Inspire Us #7: My aunt

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Today’s post is the seventh in the Women Who Inspire Us Series.  You can read the previous posts here.  You may also want to subscribe to my RSS feed, or “like” my Facebook page to catch the upcoming posts.  As always, if you would like to share your inspiration by participating in the series, please contact me.  I would LOVE to hear who inspires you!

I am so happy to share today’s inspirational woman.  My friend Ilana-Davita, who I met through the blogosphere about a year ago, contributed this lovely post.  I have very much enjoyed reading and commenting on her excellent blog, which is thoughtful and interesting, and provides a peek into what her life in France is like.  Maybe someday we’ve actually get to meet IRL, until then, I’ll continue to enjoy our “across the sea” relationship.

Who is a woman you find inspirational?
I have chosen to talk about my aunt.

What is her relationship to you?
She was my mother’s younger sister and was born in 1946. She married in her twenties and had three children who are now in their forties. She studied Biology, stayed at home when her children were born and went back to work as a trainer for jobless people once my cousins were teenagers. Sadly she died of cancer in 2007, 16 months after her husband.

When did you meet her?  Do you think the timing of your meeting affected her impact on you?
Photos show that my aunt visited my family when I was born but I obviously have no memories of this. When I was 5 I stayed at her house for the first time and although I can’t remember much about these few days I know that I enjoyed them. From then on I spent at least a week at my aunt’s every year.

She and her husband did not live very far away, but it was a change from home all the same. When I was about 10 they moved to the country and lived in a renovated farm, which was quite exotic for me. The house was a little cold, there was a cat and in the summer we went berry picking. Besides my uncle sold swimming-pools which means there was a small pool in the garden, something I greatly enjoyed in the summer.

What is inspirational about her (it can be more than one thing, i.e. personality, actions, overcoming hardships)?  Can you share a specific memory (or more than one)?
I appreciated how my aunt always made me feel welcome and unique even though she had children of her own. When I was a teenager, I spent a lot of time discussing a number of topics with her.  She liked to talk about books (her passion), movies, religion and the radio programs she listened too.   She evoked her childhood and told me anecdotes about my mother (her big sister) or the rest of the family that I did not know.

I also admired the simplicity of her life, the moral way she approached everything and the way she treated people.
When she was 50, she was diagnosed with breast cancer and she was extremely brave about it. She underwent several operations followed by chemo and I never heard her complain.

How has this inspiration affected your life?
I am positive that her attitude towards me and other cousin shave influenced my dealings with my own nieces and nephews. When they come and visit I want them to feel welcome. I hope they go back home with lovely memories of the time we have spent together.

I believe that aunts and uncles have a special role to play in the life of their siblings’ children, even as these children grow into adults. Maybe because they are less involved in their education; it seems the relationship can remain serene, less passionate.

When do you find yourself thinking of this person?  How do you feel when you think about her?
I think of my aunt quite often as my cousin still lives in his parents’ house.  Some discussions or books also remind me of her.  I feel a little nostalgic but also proud that I was privileged to meet her.

Why gating the kitchen is great idea, or, the day I took my stove apart

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It’s been really hot lately.  So hot that my usual getting-out-of-the-house activities are not an option. Going for a walk? No thank you. Playing in the park? Not unless I want heat stroke. Other (free) indoor activities, such as going to the grocery store or library, haven’t panned out so well, as I haven’t always felt up to the task of managing both kids in a public place, especially after a few choice tantrums (not thrown by me).

So we’ve been a little cooped up, and everyone’s been increasingly stir-crazy.  I’ve been experiencing the joys of a teething baby (four teeth at one time), missed the boat on sending my toddler to day camp (boy do I regret that indecision), and in general, am feeling the need for space in a big way.

This means that when the kids are playing nicely on their own (which happens so infrequently that its occurrence makes me wonder if I’m not hallucinating), I don’t run so fast to see what they’re doing.  I know that if they’re quiet, it very well may mean a mess to clean up later, but I’m just so happy for the respite that I hope for the best (even though I know that’s a bit of wishful thinking).

the clever child

This is a story of how reality squashed my wishful thinking.

Last week, early into the Nine Days, I decided to self-clean my oven so I could make some milchig dinners in the oven for a change (I only have the stove-top at my disposal since our toaster oven finally gave out). I turned on the self-clean in the late afternoon, while the kids were still awake and playing relatively quietly in their room.  The oven door automatically locks during the cleaning, which sure is a nice feature, and let me relax to some degree.  I was checking Facebook doing this that or the other around the house when the smell of burning plastic wafted over to my nose.

Hmmmm.

My first thought was that maybe the pots and pans stored in the drawer under the stove were getting too hot, so I opened the drawer and removed them.  They were warm, but nowhere near warm enough for melting plastic.  I sniffed each one (yes, I did) as I placed it on the floor, but that smell was not coming from any of them.

So then I looked at the oven door and saw it. One of my super-skinny cutting boards. Well, what used to be one of my super-skinny cutting boards. Now it just looked like smoking, melting Swiss cheese, er, plastic (this picture was taken much later in the evening, FTR, since I couldn’t open the oven door for what seemed like hours).

oy va voy
Did you know that on certain stoves, there’s a little teeny crack in the top of the oven door? It leads to a space between the outer glass and the inner, double pane.  It’s for ventilation, apparently.  I was unaware that this tiny yet hugely problematic space existed.  My toddler, with his unquenchable curiosity, had clearly discovered it.

the teeny crack

My reconstructed scenario went something like this:  He had opened the dishwasher, pulled out the cutting board and inserted it into this enticing little oven door crevice.  I don’t know when he did it. Sometime that day. And now said cutting board was quickly fusing to my oven door, and smoking up my kitchen.

So, I turned off the self-clean.  No baked ziti for us that night.

Later that evening, when the boys were safely asleep in their cribs, and the smell of plastic gone from my apartment, I took a look at the oven door.  It was still mildly warm, and I thought that perhaps I could scrape the cutting board off the glass. I found a wire hanger and bent it into a useful (I hoped) shape. After attempting to scrape around in there, I realized that I was probably just pushing more plastic down into the oven door than removing it, and I gave up on that idea.

the hanger

The next logical step, was, of course, to take the oven door completely apart.  Right?  ‘Cause that’s the most reasonable course of action.  Also, my husband wasn’t home to talk any sense into me.  I got out the big guns:  my toolbox.  Time to get handy.

While I was removing the screws from the door, I did have the foresight to arrange them carefully in their respective order.  Perhaps it wasn’t necessary, but I didn’t want to be stuck with a disassembled stove and no idea of what went where.  Plus I liked having control over some part of this crazy stove situation.

the organized screws

After the door front was removed, I assessed the damage.  It was not pretty. There was no way I was going to be able to separate the plastic from the glass. It was baked neatly in between the two inner panes of glass.  Despite my frustration, it was actually kind of impressive.

the inner damage

The most reasonable next step was removing the plastic-covered glass from my oven (right?).  Ostensibly, this was so I could show it to the Home Depot guys to get a new one, but really, I think I was just having a little too much fun taking things apart (who, me?).  And maybe I was hoping a little bit that if I just took out the offending plastic/glass combo, I could still make baked ziti the next day.

the glass removed

I reassembled the oven door rather uneventfully, and was really hoping that I could use the oven soonish.  However, when I asked the men at a nearby appliance store if I could use my oven without that part, they told me ominously of wasted heat, burnt little hands and shattering glass.  Yikes.  So, no baked ziti for us. Now I just need to order the part … until then, stove-top cooking it is! I’ll take any good stove-top recipes you have to offer.

Also, we put up a gate to the kitchen.  Best decision this summer.

What’s the most unusual/inconvenient household damage you’ve experienced?

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Getting some Mommy Me-time

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I never used to be a homebody.  The minute I walked through the door I was itching to get out!  A coffee shop, a concert, a jam session, whatever.  I loved to be around people, action, excitement.  You could say I thrived on it.

Now, by the end of the day, I’m hearing the call of the couch much, much louder than the call of any potential activity (can’t you hear it?  Rivki….Rivkiiiiii).  And that’s on a normal day.  Yesterday was not normal.

My baby is teething, but super-efficiently.  He’s getting four at once.  He is a ball of miserable, poor thing!  This means, of course, that I am holding him.  All day.  And using Motrin, Tylenol and Baby Orajel.   And lots of cuddling.  Now, my toddler is a smart kid (in my unbiased opinion).  He sees that when the baby cries, the baby gets lots and lots of attention.  So, of course, he mimics what he sees as a successful formula.

This means that I have two crying, kvetching and clingy kids.  That’s okay.  I’ve made my peace with not getting the cleaning, cooking, or anything like that done.  I’ve been drinking tepid coffee for two-and-a-half years now, and while I still prefer hot coffee, I’m not expecting it any time soon.

But, boy, is it draining!  This is why, despite my fatigue and waning desire to socialize, I went out last night.  It was clear to me that I needed some time just to be me.  Away from the laundry, the dishes, the toys that need picking up.

“Mommy – it opened by itself!”

When I take the time to do something for myself, I’m recharging my batteries.  I know that for most moms, it’s not a simple feat to schedule some time for themselves into their crowded schedule.  I usually forget to do it until I feel like I’m going to pull my hair out.  My goal is to be able to take some me-time before it’s so obviously needed.  Even though it’s hard to do, it’s pretty crucial.

Dr. Nadine Kaslow of Emory University explains why me-time is so important:

“First of all it’s really hard to take care of other people if you are not taking care of yourself. If you think about a car metaphor, if there’s not enough fuel in the car, the car won’t go,” she said. “A second reason is when people aren’t taking care of themselves, they tend to get resentful of the other people they are taking care of in their lives, so they may become short or irritable with them. A third reason is that life is more meaningful and gratifying if we take care of ourselves; we tend not to feel depressed,” she added. “We feel less anxious, and moms who are not depressed and less anxious are more able to be effective mothers.”

(from CNN.com – HEALTH)

Me-time doesn’t have to mean going out to a social event.  It doesn’t even have to involve spending any money (thank goodness!).  It could be as simple as reading a book, or taking a bubble bath, or reading my blog (what?  How’d that get there…).  I used to like to leave my kids at the sitter and go to the Art Museum.  It cost a little bit for the childcare, but it was well worth it.

How do you spend your me-time?

Around the Web and Pictures of the Week

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[Amusing sidenote:  I wrote this on Friday and totally thought I published it.  Not sure what happened there.]

Well, it’s really crunch time now.  In less than two weeks, the movers are coming.  I’m trying to tie up loose ends and get everything in boxes, etc.

So, I’m feeling a little blah about doing a post today.  I apologize for the lack of enthusiasm, but I wanted to do a post to let you all know that there will be at least one guest post (hopefully more – contact me if you want to contribute!) while I’m moving, but I doubt if I’ll be able to do much myself.

As they say, see you on the flip side!  (Okay, I don’t really know anyone who says that)

Here are a couple of links I thought were interesting this week:

A Mother in Israel had a nice, informative post on Breastfeeding Basics.

on the Atlantic, a mother/therapist asks if wanting our kids to be happy can land them in therapy (I don’t agree, but I thought it was a good article for thinking about what it is that makes us as people happy – A.S., I enjoyed discussing this with you last night!)

An amazing post on Kosher on a Budget reminded me of how people can really go above and beyond when others are in need.

And now, pictures to illustrate why I won’t be blogging as much (probably) until we’re settled in Baltimore:

my big helper!

my littler helper!

Have a great Shabbos!

[right, not so relevant on a Sunday, but, hey, have a great Shabbos anyways!]

Around the Web and Picture(s) of the Week: Standing Genes?

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Happy Friday!  Since most of you are probably busy getting ready for Shabbos, I thought I would provide a few highlights from posts I found over the week which I enjoyed, and I hope you do, too.

Over at A Mother in Israel, Hannah asks about submission in marriage – how and when is it healthy?

This Good Life gives a great list of ways to improve your marriage (hint:  there’s a reference to chocolate)

LadyMama has a post by Becky Brownstein about ways to keep it together in our hectic, hectic lives

Also, I started blogging at theJerusalemLife.com, and here is the first post.  I’ll be posting three times a week, IY”H. 

Oh, and don’t forget the impending apocalypse…

And now for the Pictures of the Week:

David Eliezer standing (already)

Oh, hi Mom, don't mind me, I'll just be looking in this box over here...

This baby is not even eight months old yet.  I thought I would have more time.  This is about when my other son starting standing, too (and he started walking at nine-and-a-half months).  Gulp.  Also, can you see his peyos in this pic?  They are massively long!  And it’s all natural!

I have peyos and I'm so happy!

It took me a little while to find the picture of his brother standing, but here we are (sorry for the red eyes):

Like brother like...brother?

Hey, how do I get down from here?

Have a fantastic Shabbos!

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Redefining Homemaker

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Bb Clarinet

Clarimanet...clarimanet....Image by Terriko via Flickr

Some of you may be aware that I’m a fan of traditionalism in marriage, and that I can be a little old-fashioned at times.  After reading my friend Chavi’s guest post, I realized that even though I do think that the traditional model has a lot of merit, I don’t fit quite so neatly into the mold.

Why not, you may ask?  Well, I keep a busy schedule of performances, as well as various other activities.  For instance, just between last night and today I have four engagements outside of the house.  Count ‘em – four.  While that’s more than usual, I am typically pretty booked.  My husband and I were laughing about the ridiculous schedule I keep.  He said to me,

“When people ask me what you do, I tell them you’re a homemaker, but that’s not entirely true.”

Right.  I’m not actually making home all that much these days (and boy, does it show!).  It’s not that I don’t like being at home.  I do.  I like puttering around the house.  I also like it when the house is clean and I can find things like my cars keys (it’s a good thing I have a spare set), and I can see things like my floors (I know they’re somewhere down there).

I’m trying to find the sweet spot between my home and outside life. Since, thank G-d, I’ve been getting more opportunities to play (paying!) gigs, I’ve had to think about what that means for my family.  What are the sacrifices that I have to make when I take the gig?  It’s not just the actual performance time (for which I may or may not need a babysitter, depending on my husband’s schedule), but also the practice time.

Practicing’s tricky, since Little Man keeps me on a tight leash musically.  He doesn’t let me play any songs that don’t meet his approval.  Rachmaninoff?  Out of the question.  Row, row your boat?  That’s more up his alley.

So, since I can’t really practice much during the day, that means it has to be squeezed in during the evening, after Little Man is asleep, and when the baby doesn’t need me.  Happens to be that that is also usually when I pick up the house, do dishes, oh, and relax.  I’m currently trying to find a way to utilitze my time as efficiently as possible, since I don’t think it’s good to let entropy take over every time I have a performance (did I mention I can’t see my floors?).

You see, as much as I need the outside stimulation, and to use my musical abilities, I also need to make my house a welcoming, organized and sane place.  I want my children to see that it’s possible to contribute to the community and still maintain a functional household.  That family and home life come first, but that it’s also important to use the unique skill set that is specific to each person.

And that reminds me of a post on Chavi’s blog, about how there is no right way to be a wife and a mother, because we all have our own distinct personalities.

For some, that could mean having a job outside the house, or for others, it could be staying home.  It could be regularly hosting guests for Shabbos, or arranging postpartum meals.  It could be running a summer camp, or giving swimming lessons.   When our children see us contributing in whatever way is the most suited for us, they see what it’s like to use the abilities G-d gave us to the fullest.

Using my ability to perform makes me happy, and that makes my husband happy, which helps our marriage, which helps our parenting.  I am immensely grateful of his exceptional support of my non-traditional homemaking style.  Now I really need to go actually make some home…!

 

I want my children to see that it’s possible to contribute to the community and still maintain a functional household.  That my family and home life obviously come first, but that it’s also important to have a vibrant communal life as well.
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Living outside of stereotypes

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Cambridge, MA: Harvard University

Image by pobrecito33 via Flickr

Chavi Cohen is a young mother of two, living in Cleveland, Ohio.  A Harvard graduate with a penchant for reading through meals and seeking out intellectual stimulation, she’s always trying to find a happy medium between mommy and me.  On her blog Harvard Housewife she writes about connecting to herself, her friends and family, and her choices in life.

I was reading an article in a Binah magazine a few weeks ago which described one woman’s first anguish and then self-satisfaction at having given up a promotion years earlier because she believed the hours and responsibility would interfere with mothering her children.  She was dismayed that someone who was less qualified than her got the promotion and further upset that maybe, with all her skills and qualifications, she should be rising to some top professional position as the promoted friend was.

While reading this, I couldn’t help but think of my own marriage and self. I recently took a Myers-Brigg personality test.  I came back as an ESTJ.  In short, (you could Google it if you really want), this profile is the leadership profile.  60-80% of corporate CEOs are this profile, as are numerous presidents, Sandra Day O’Conner, Colin Powell and tons of lawyers.

The test administrator told me, upon reviewing my results and knowing that I have two children, that not only is this a highly unusual profile for a young woman (I knew I was weird!) but almost no person possessing this profile could happily be a stay-at-home mom.

Funny, that’s what I told my husband-to-be on our third date.  Fresh from the yeshiva world and his wild transformation to observant Jew, he was convinced that all frum women were either nurses, babysitters, OTs, PTs or accountants.  Working for Congress and raising money, and, gasp!, working with men, did not ring authentic.

Although I did like him a lot, I had to be honest.  I said,

“Well, that’s just not me.  If you’re looking for someone like that then I don’t think this is going to work.”

Evidently, he put aside his reservations because we got engaged four weeks later…

For me, there is immense personal satisfaction in doing something well. At the same time, I know I’m not wired to be home with my kids all the time.  I would go crazy.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m a good mom (if I say so myself) and love my kids to pieces.  But actually playing with them, or reading the same book 20 times can exhaust me rather quickly.  Yet, strategizing an approach to a donor, putting together a really compelling message for an organization or writing a killer proposal leaves me with that “job well done” feeling.

And here I have to give credit where credit is due.  Knowing my husband’s initial feelings on the subject, we could have been in for a rocky ride.  And in the beginning it was a little tough – not gonna lie.  But some of the greatest pleasure I get out of my marriage is when my husband supports me – REALLY supports me.  Whether its holding down the fort when I go for a quick day business trip – or urging me to ask for a little more responsibility at work – or putting up with me when I’m working and not doing household chores – that’s when I really feel like he gets me and I really feel appreciated and part of a wonderful partnership.

And I’m not the easiest wife to put up with.  I forget napkins every time I set the table, I hardly dust and I definitely don’t clean toilets.  I get frustrated easily when my toddler is just acting like a two year old and sometimes just have to remove myself from the situation and let him take over so I can keep my cool.  I am known for using the phrase “I really don’t know why the baby is crying so much!” as code for – “PLEASE save me from this screaming child before I lose my mind!”

And amazingly, most of the time, he’s ok with that.

I’ll admit it.  I’m the type of person that would take that promotion the woman lamented over in Binah.  And my husband is the type of person who would support me doing it.  I can support my family, support myself and my own needs and be supported, all at the same time.  Isn’t that what we should all be striving for?

Believe it or not, when describing my husband, the test administrator said -

“yes, that sounds like exactly the type of man you would marry.  Most men would run screaming from you, but he fits your complementary profile.  He gets you and he’s ok with who you are.”

Now while I wasn’t too thrilled to hear that most men would run screaming, I’m glad my husband didn’t.  And I’m glad that there’s a beautiful level of acceptance and understanding that forms the backbone of our marriage.  Just goes to show that although we might think the Binah lady’s decision is the right one as far as hashkafa and religion goes, really, there’s an even greater answer I think – one that is intensely personal and depends on just what type of personality you are!

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Little Man is two today!

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Sand bucket on the beach of Punta del Este, Ur...

Image via Wikipedia

It’s true!  Today is Little Man’s second birthday.  He was born on inauguration day.  Here’s  bit of weird trivia:  Our other baby was born in September, but at the exact time that former president Jimmy Carter was in the hospital – the same hospital, mind you – for a little health scare on his book tour.  So we have a presidential theme going on with our family.

We’re not doing much for Little Man’s birthday (he’s only two, after all), but this morning he “helped” me make some brownies (he mastered the art of pouring things into the mixing bowl.  He even helped me stir!), and then we went to the Cleveland Children’s Museum.   I left the baby with the sitter (thanks F!), and spent some alone time with the birthday boy.

In the museum, there’s one room with has rotating exhibits.  Currently, they’ve turned it into a giant sandbox, complete with a Sphinx sand sculpture (they’re calling the exhibit Egyptian Sands), plenty of shovels, buckets, toy alligators, tunnels, see-saws, chairs (for the adults), and so on.  He spent about an hour playing in the sand.  Jumping, pouring, digging, dumping.  Oh, was he a happy boy.

It’s amazing seeing  him play and interact.  He’s a big watcher, this one.  He loves to observe other children, other adults, check out the situation, and then make his decision.  He’s always been like that.  He also loves to jump.   Jump jump jump.  We played a little game where I covered his feet with sand and then he wiggled them out.  To be amused by the simplest things; it’s the best!

After we came back home, I thought it would be fun to decorate the brownies together, but really, he just wanted to eat them, so I decorated and he munched.  It worked for me.  That’s life, right?  We have to be flexible.

I’m glad we’re not doing a big thing.  First of all, he’s too little to really appreciate it, or even understand it.  Birthday?  What’s that?  Second, I’ve been so busy lately that I don’t have the energy to do any party planning (or cleaning-uping), and finally, I really hope to keep things simple in our family.  I mean things like simchas.  Simple.  That’s my plan, so just a little party among ourselves is in keeping with that ideology.

I’d love to be able to include some adorable pictures of our family togetherness tonight, but I, in continued moments of weakness, let Little Man play with our digital camera.  Not a great Mommy move there, I really recommend NOT doing that.  Yes, our camera is no more.  It’s broken in that special way that only toddlers can do.  So we’re taking pictures today with real film.  Whoa.  We’ll have to get them developed.  Maybe I’ll scan some in.  I love that scanning a photo feels old-fashioned.  Funny.

So if anyone has good recommendations for cameras, we’re in the market.  And for Little Man’s birthday?  We’re going to get him a toy camera.