Posts Tagged ‘Kids’


Mary G from Them’s My Sentiments tagged me for a cool meme, where in you find the 6th photo in the 6th folder of your pictures and post it. I mostly hang out here on my laptop now and it mostly has work photos on it, so that didn’t work (lots of cute children, just not mine, and therefore, not mine to show to the world). I went back to my original computer, and this is what came up, from 2003. We went up to the cottage one weekend and my FIL had just gotten a digital camera, one of the first popularly available. I was intrigued with them, but resisted even looking at them seriously because I loved my old-fashioned one so much. Couldn’t resist taking his for a spin, though, and to his shock I took about 300 photographs that afternoon. I guess I was an early adopter after all. My FIL used his digital camera exactly the way he used his film one, taking only a photo or two of each subject. I already had figured out the way to get a good photo was to take a lot and tended to plunk babies down and take a couple of rolls of pictures at a time. With digital, the possibilities were endless. I got maybe 25 photos I really liked enough to keep, and this was one.

This is Boo, at about a year old. Is she not the most adorable thing? It makes me sorry I didn’t start this blog until the kids were older, because they were so darn cute when they were little. Maybe I’ll have to just toss in the occasional baby photo of them just because.

Tagging. Hmmm. Well, Yogamum, just because, although she doesn’t post faces of her kids, so it might be tough. Informal Matriarch takes great photos, so she could be interesting. I’ve recently discovered The Live and Times of Organic and she has gorgeous pictures, so her too. I tend to be a big lurker, so this is as good as it gets.


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I have New Yorker magazines all over, strategically-placed in the bathroom, by my bed, in the car, in my backpack. I had a bath this evening and read the bathroom one, which turns out to be one of the more recent. It has a David Sedaris column. I love Sedaris. He holds the same opinion as I do on the undecided voters in the American election, only he’s funnier about it. This is what he writes:

“I look at these people and can’t quite believe that they exist. Are they professional actors? I wonder. Or are they simply laymen who want to lot of attention?

To them in perspective, I think of being on an airplane. The flight attendant comes down th aisle with her food cart and, eventually, parks it besides my seat. ‘Can I interest you in the chicken?’ she asks. ‘Or would you prefer the platter of shit with bits of broken glass in it?’

To be undecided in this election is to pause for a moment and then ask how the chicken is cooked.”

He then goes on and write about how his mother made him vote for her when he was 11 years old, which also kind of resonated with me because in the election we just had, I marked the X, but it was Asher who told me who to vote for. There we were, behind the little ballot box and I still hadn’t made up my mind, so I asked him, “Liberal or Green?” and he said, “Liberal,” so I put an X next to the Liberal’s name.


Speaking of Asher, we got him a computer, putting out family total at 5 – two desktops and three laptops. This is not something I ever imagined. I did imagine maybe have 2 computers, one for the kids and one for the parents. Clueless.

We have the old desktop and the new desktop (pretty much side-by-side), J’s laptop, my laptop and Asher’s laptop. Asher’s is little and cute and he loves it so much he refers to it as his baby.

Asher has a graphomotor disorder. Basically, he can’t write. He has an awkward grip and this weird, uneven scrawl. And he’s slow as all get-out. They teach typing at school and, even at the age of 9, he touch-types faster than he writes. We are hoping this will reduce his frustration level. The new challenge? Not losing the laptop at school.

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fall leaves

I’ve been working for two weeks and I’d have to say it is going very well. Except for the part where no one has any clean clothes any more.

It’s pretty quiet around here right now – J is biking and all the children are off amusing themselves somehow. And they are old enough that the fact that they are all quiet and not bothering me does not mean some sort of destruction of property is inevitable. (My in-laws have this lovely old clock that sits in their dining room. It’s 4:10, always. When people ask why it is 4:10 always, my MIL says, “J took it apart when he was 6 years old.” When people tell her that is too bad, she gets this dreamy look on her face, clearly channeling how she felt that day, and says, “Oh no. It kept him busy for 2 whole hours. It was worth it.”)

So I had a choice – do some cleaning and laundry or brush the dog. His fur is getting really long and so he starts matting like crazy if not brushed pretty much daily and this is already day 3. I brushed the dog, of course. It was actually quite a work out. And now he’s all fluffy.

He’s run away somewhere, though, so all you get is photos of my kids and their friends cavorting in the fall leaves.

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Mary G, over at Them’s My Sentiments, asked in her latest post:

If you were asked why you had children, if you wanted them, what would you answer? Would it be an easy answer, or a struggle like this one?

You should go over and read it yourself, if only for the adorable picture of her girls when they were wee. But for those of you who don’t, her basic point is that she just kind of fell into it, because that is just what you did back then – get married, have kids, get a house, etc. She was never into babies, but is delighted to have survived that stage, because she quite liked the children they grew into.

I have met a lot of women who admit that they never much liked the baby stage and much preferred their children once they started to become their own little people. I’ve met enough of them to no longer be surprised, but I used to be surprised because I am the complete opposite. I loved babies from when I was a kid myself. I couldn’t wait to be old enough to babysit so I could get my hands on squishy, delicious babies.

Loved the babies. Didn’t so much like their older siblings. I found little kids to be mostly boring. Bigger ones were annoying. Babies never ever intentionally annoyed you. Of course they did lots of annoying things unintentionally, but it was the intention that really made me crazy, so I never got irritated with a baby, even though ones who cried for hours.

When I was only just 15 years old, I babysat a little guy who was about 8 months old for a weekend. They were right across from our house and my brother, a year younger, co-babysat. He played with the 4-year-old. The baby cried for about the first 4 hours, then clearly made up his mind that his parents had abandonded him forever and I was his new mommy, and this one wasn’t getting away so easily. I wasn’t allowed to put him down to pee with protesting wails (good practice for having Asher, turns out). He wouldn’t go to sleep for hours past his ‘bedtime’ and woke me up at about 5:30 am. He tossed me into the deep end of the baby pool and I adored him. He was delicous. (And I still remember the look of utter shock on his face when his parents walked in the door.)

So it is safe to say that I wanted a baby. I really, really wanted a baby, although I was a responsible human being and waited until the time was right. I did assume – hoped, really – that I wouldn’t find my own child quite so boring once s/he got past infancy as I’d found the kids I babysat. I didn’t find Maya boring (although endless Franklin books and pretending to lose at the game of Sorry has frequently worn on my nerves), but I did find her more of a challenge to parent as she grew. Infancy I knew how to handle, even when the infant was colicky. Past that point, I have wished quite frequently that I hadn’t lost the manuals they must have come with.

Now I have no more babies. I adored my babies and, while I do not want any more, I do admit to missing my kids’ babyhoods, when parenting was easy and they loved me more than anything and they mostly smelled really, really good and were squishy and huggable rather than all elbows and knees, and they were so much more easy to understand.

But, thankfully, it turns out that I really like these kids I ended up with in my quest for babies. They are very funny and remarkably smart and always surprising. Turns out I’m pretty glad I had children, not just the babies I wanted.

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It’s been a little crazy around here, what with Rosh Hoshanah having just happened, and Yom Kippur, and Sukkot and random other Jewish holidays on the horizon. My kids get them all off school. Plus, we are trying to plan Maya’s bat mitzvah. Plus I kind of got a job. Because, you know, 3 kids, a chaotic disorganized house, a huge dog and still recovering from nearly dying 6 months ago wasn’t enough on my plate. Time for something new.

I kind of fell into the job, when the new principal at my kids’ school talked to me about needing a Communications Director and I said, gee, that’s exactly what I used to do at my old job and gave her a few suggestions and suddenly it was like, when can you start?

To be truthful, it’s only contract for now to get them going and see if I can handle it, and they will go through a proper search. But for now, I’m working on getting the newsletter and web page, etc., up and going. And getting paid. Just like that. Huh.


Organizing a bat mitzvah with a 12-year-old girl is a little bit like organizing a wedding and trying to get along with your MIL-to-be. They want everything to be just right and just like everyone else does it and why are you trying to be difficult and interject some originality into it? Neither, it seems, are much into originality.

Now, I get along with my MIL very well, so what I am about to say probably isn’t true for everyone, but for me, trying to find common ground with a 12-year-old-girl has been more difficult than doing the same with the MIL. That kid is rigid.

I’m beginning to the see reasoning behind only having this for boys, because I cannot imagine fighting with a boy over invitations as much as I have fought with Maya. Too bad there isn’t the bat mitzvah version of eloping. She could run off and have a quickie bat mitzvah in Vegas, and when she comes back we could give her a thousand bucks to start her adult life off right. I guess that’s kind of missing the point, huh?

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maya is my favourite child

I love maya the best. My other children just can’t live in her path. she’s just to amazing. maya is everything i have ever wanted. asher has his ups and downs boo has her downs and ups. but maya just has ups. she is the smartist in the family. she is perfect. we got a dog for ashers birthday but actually it was really for maya. we are taking the kids to cirque de soleil because we knew maya would like it. she is special. i wish some day i could be as smart, beautifull, amazing, great, wonderfull, perfect, awsome, excellent and spectacular as maya!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Turns out Maya knows the names I use for the kids on my blog. And recognizes the blog template page. I came to the computer to find this left for me. My favourite bit is that she only has ups. My second favourite is the unintentional humour in her statement that she is the ‘smartist’ in the family.

For the record, she is – as I always tell her – my very favourite eldest child and oldest girl. She’s even my favourite 12-year-old. And now she’s my favourite guest blogger.

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When I picked up the kids yesterday, Maya informed me that in one of her classes, the rabbi was talking about the shofar. This is a ram’s horn which is blown during Rosh Hoshanah and Yom Kippur. It sounds kind of like a rough trumpet. The rabbi asked the class what the sound of the shofar reminded them of.

This rabbi has taught this grade previously, so you’d think he’d have the experience to know not to ask as question like that, but he didn’t. And so one of Maya’s classmates (whose father and, I believe, grandmother, both read this blog) put up his hand and told his teacher that the shofar reminded him of his uncle in the bathroom.

Maya then told me that the new High School Musical is coming out in theatres in October. Oh, how exciting! She and her friend have already planned to go. Good, I thought, I’ll just be able to drop them off and run away. Then Asher said, all excited, “It’s coming in October? Already?” And my mommy brain calculated two things very quickly. One, Asher loves High School Musical and will want to go and two, Maya won’t agree to have him go with her. This adds up to three: I’ll be seeing the movie after all.

I heaved a sigh just as Maya informed Asher that he will not be accompanying her. “L’s brother wants to go too,” she said, “And we aren’t letting him, either.” Oo, how exciting. L’s brother, T is in Asher’s grade. They aren’t good friends, but they hang out sometimes. Maybe they could go together.

“Hey!” I said, “Asher, you aren’t the only boy in your grade in the closet about High School Musical.”

“Mom,” Asher said, in his ‘aren’t you silly’ tone of voice, “T and I aren’t in the closet about High School Musical.” You aren’t? I thought. But he went on, “T doesn’t care if people know.” Ah, meaning Asher carries this little secret alone. High School Musical, here I come!

I could try and make J go, but I’m already in his debt for letting Boo acquire more Rainbow Magic books since she first became obsessed over two Asher got her at a book sale. They look like this:

There appear to be a never-ending supply of then – weather fairies and animal fairies and fairies for each day. Every damn book is the same. Two girls, Rachel and Kirsti, must help some fairy get something back – a puppy, a weather feather, etc – from the evil Jack Frost and his ugly goblins. This usually involves having them become fairy-sized and some point and also very grateful, simpering fairies.

It’s all cuteness and sweetness and friendliness. After I read one to Boo while Maya was around, Maya said afterwards, “My teeth hurt.” They are painful to read, and usually it is J who is suckered into the job, since I am already reading The Thief Lord to the older children at bedtime.

Zach Efron will be my punishment.

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