Overheard

Chaya: Nooooo!!!! I'm going home!

Shira: This is your home, Chaya.

Overheard: The Shabbat Edition

The funniest things are said over Shabbat. I don't always remember all of them, but I made a point of remembering a couple choice selections from last night and today.

Shira: I have idea! Let's slide down the stairs on our butts! (Sounds of kids sliding down stairs.) I win! I win!

Chaya: I wanted to win!

Batya: I want to win!

Shira: Lets do it again. (Sounds of kids sliding down stairs.)

All: We all win!!! YAY!!!

~~~~~

Chaya (on the way to the bathroom): I don't need the ring. I know how to hold on and I won't fall into the toilet. I don't like to fall in the toilet so I hold on to the seat and don't fall in.

We get to the bathroom and there is no ring on the toilet. Chaya falls in. I laugh.

Chaya: That's not funny.

~~~~~

Overheard

Aba has taken up the habit of bring "biscuits" home from the synagogue in the morning. The girls wake up before he returns and wait very impatiently for the sound of the door. Today he gave one to each, but Batya wasn't eating hers.

Aba: Don't you want it?

Batya: No. Hands it back.

Aba: Acting like he is going to break it. Well, why don't you give some to...

Shira: I don't have a biscuit.

Batya: You can have it.

Aba: Shira, share it with Chaya.

Shira: Breaking off the smallest piece she can get away with. Here, Chaya. You can have some of my biscuit.

Hachnoset Sefer Torah

Yesterday we attended a Hachnoset Sefer Torah (a dedication of a Torah scroll). This was the fourth one that our wedding chuppah (canopy) was in. It makes it worth keeping the poles in the garage for seven years.

Story Time

Once upon a time there was a girl named Shira.

She met a red dragon. It was scary. But it was okay because it wasn't real. 

This was the story that Chaya told us today after returning from the Bet Knesset. She continued with it and expanded on what Shira and the dragon did, but this was the only version with the line, "it wasn't real". I have to admit, though, that is my favorite line.

My Little Artist

Chaya drew her first representational picture last night. At the time she told Aba and I that it was a picture of herself, but this morning she told us it was Batya.

Party Hardy

with an alternative party plan.

I had planned to take the girls to the Bat Mizvah and then drop them off with Aba and head out for a little partying Ima-style. Yeah, it would have been really mellow, but I'd have been happy with an hour at the coffee chop knitting then wandering leisurely around Target to pick up my dishes followed by a manicure. Exciting, right?

As with most things in my life though, things change on-the-fly. With Chaya puking last night and Batya starting this morning, the whole Bat Mizvah part was out. They are also both very clingy when sick so leaving them all day with Aba wasn't going to fly. Instead Shira and I went together while Aba stayed with sleeping sickies. We managed to stay the whole time and brought back a couple goodies. Overall we had a blast.

But here I sit, in front of the TV with the laptop sharing my lap with a sleeping toddler's head and another one curled up next to me. And what does my partying consist of now? Two leftover Purim truffles, a cup of coffee and finalizing my Pesah shopping list. This truffle is really good, too.

I suppose all that matters in the end is that I'm able to be there for my girls when thy really need me. Even when that means peeing with a three year-old's head on my knee because she has to come with me to the bathroom.

Danger, Ima! Puke Ahead!

I wish I had a warning system for puke. That would be so helpful. Instead I carry a very slightly feverish Chaya to bed and end up on the floor holding her hair as she vomits into a towel. Then I strip the bed and have to shower with her (I was slow at first and she got some in her hair) and now I'm facing a night spent in her bed while Shira and Batya stay with Aba in the "healthy" bed.

Under normal circumstances that would be enough, but could anything be "normal" around here? Tomorrow the girls and I are supposed to attend the Bat Mtzvah of one of their "very best friends." When I came downstairs from puke fest Shira was telling em how we were going to go to the party. I felt so bad because chances are that we will have to skip. She even started crying.

My first thought was that Aba could take care of Chaya and the rest of us could attend, but Aba has a meeting scheduled at the time we were going...unless it rains. Which means it won't. Of course, Chaya is a clingy Ima's Girl under the best circumstances. When sick she will just cry the whole time. Unless she spends the time passed out on the sofa like Shira did. Is it bad that I hope she does?

Marina Photoshoot

This is the Look

I get when Chaya feels it is her turn for the carrier when it really isn't.

An Oldie Found

This was in my drafts folder. I was working on it when I took breaks from Rosh haShanah cooking but didn't get a chance to finish it then. Better late than never!

In between my cooking, cleaning, shopping, taking care of the girls and normal household stuff, I've been mulling over what I'd like the new year to bring for my family.

My darling Chayale,
You are my bechora. I know you don't really "get" what that means and there is still time for you to fully understand your roll as first-born. But right now I need you to understand that it doesn't mean you get to take everything you want from Batya. I'm not sure why or how but you have really clicked onto the "I'm the big sister" roll with her. She seems to enjoy the hugs and kisses and calls herself "the baby" or "the baby sister" and calls you her "big sister". It is sweet. And cute. Until the crying and calls of, "Chaya took my _______!" At some point she is going to get fed up and use her height and weight advantage against you.

I also want to talk to you about the sleep issue. Every so often we click into a week or two when you go to sleep easily, sleep all night and nap well. Shock! You aren't a grouch the next day. Then something happens. Illness, teething, holidays and later-than-usual Shabbat dinner and we fight for weeks over sleep.

Overheard

The girls were playing in the bedroom while I reorganized the bathroom closet. Chaya has my book light open and is talking on it like a phone. She sees me and does that thing where you pull the mouthpiece of the phone back to talk to someone in person.

C: I talking to my grandpa.
Me: You are?
C: Yeah. (Goes back to talking on the phone.)
B: (Reaching for the "phone".) I want to talk to my grandpa.
C: Noooo! I talking to MY grandpa. You talk to your grandpa later. Shira talk to her grandpa later. I talk to MY grandpa now.

Superhero in the House.

Chaya is running around the house in her birthday suit with a scarf/towel/doll blanket tied around her neck shouting, "I'm a superhero! I'm a brave superhero!"

Overheard, Take 3

Saving the best for last. C's new routine for anything diaper related is to claim she pooped.

C: Diaper
Me: (Having just put her diaper on I was suspect about the need.) Really.
C: Poopoo, Ima.
Me: Where?
C: Biiiiiig poopoo.
Me: You went poopoo?
C: Big, stinky poopoo.
C: Big, big, poopoo. Stinky. Yuck!
Me: You went poopoo?
C: In my butt. Big poopoo!

I changed her out of a clean, dry diaper into another one and we repeated this routine throughout the day.

Overheard, Take 1

The girls and I sent Shabbat at home today since we are all either sick or recovering. I brushed out everyone's hair and they were instructing me on clip locations when C hugged B and said, "Batya's my baby sister!"

Then we went on the rounds of who was the baby sister of whom. B was a bit upset that she didn't have a baby sister so we have adopted "baby" as B's baby sister.

Creaking springs wake me up. Another night has passed and you’ve stayed in your bed. Another night when you didn’t ask to sleep “in the big bed.” I sense you there and open my eyes to yours. “Mommy,” you ask. I lift you into bed and pull the covers up. You close your eyes against the sun. You snuggle and shift. I look at you and see your smile.

Eyes closed.

Not the big toothy grin of mischievous thoughts.

Not the eye-batting smile of ImsocuteyouhavetodowhatIwant.

Not the full-faced grin of joy when you play.

This smile is one of months and years past. The satisfied smile of an unexpected swallow of milk or the rarely well-placed SNS. The peaceful smile of a dry diaper, a full tummy and tightly-swaddled limbs. The contented smile of curled up with your sisters among the beeps and clatter of the NICU.

The moment is short-lived. Soon Shira wakes up and bounces from bed. Batya joins her in shouting, “Chaya! Chaya!” We are all up and running and the moment is just a sweet memory.

Tonight you’ll tell me that you want to sleep in the yellow bed. With “Shia.” You’ll sleep, tucked into bed with her until the sun starts peeking through the curtains.

Maybe tomorrow night you’ll tell me that you want to sleep with me. Or I might just have to be content with that before-bed cuddle and early-morning snuggle.

It's started. Already.

C has been asking to watch this segment from the new season of Sesame Street over and over again. And she has the song memorized already.

Art for Aba (and other things)

I know, I know, I said I would post some art and crafty stuff from the past couple of weeks. Well, it has been busy so I haven't gotten around to scanning the scrapbooking stuff or photographing the knitting. But I did manage to take some pictures of some of the girls' art.

First, some Father's Day painting.
The pictures:




The girls:



Our flower display for Shavuot:


Kiddush cups:

The Ten Commandments for Shavuot:

Letters to my Girls

Dearest Chaya,
I love you more that you can ever know and I am so happy that you love me and want to be with me more than anyone else. I get great joy carrying you, wearing you, snuggling with you and kissing you.

But please stop whining. My ears are going to bleed one of these days.


And go to bed. Just sleep. Just once. One night is all I ask. When I say it is bedtime, curl in my lad and drink your milk and go to sleep. Don't act like you are going to and then fight and screech until Aba takes you. And don't wail, "Mah-ee!" the whole time he is getting you settled. You had your chance to sleep with me. I can't have you running around at midnight.


My Darling Shira,

You are so full of life it is amazing. I love watching you explore and realize the fun time you can have doing things. I love it when you get so excited about something you can hardly breathe because you are too busy shouting, "Mommy! Mommy!" I even love your little bossy streak.

But "share" doesn't mean "This belongs to Shira now." You can't decide that Batya should "share" her doll or that Chaya should "share" her crayons and then pull hair and bite when they resist. Yes, honey, I know you are a biter.

And if you hit me with that bubble wand one more time I am going to throw all of them in the trash. Bubble wands are for fun, not bruising my knee and then smiling like an angel.


My dear baby Batya,
You are the light of my life. I am so blessed to be your ima. I am so very proud of you and thankful for all your help around the house. You truly are the little mommy of the bunch. And I am overjoyed that you want to potty learn and will do everything I can to help you achieve that goal.

However, telling me you have to poop, running to the potty, taking your diaper off and sitting on the potty for a moment does not constitute "going potty." I know you don't like your diapers any more and prefer to be naked, but you need to start using the potty if you are going to be running around bottom-less.

And I think it goes without saying (but I will say it just in case) that getting off the potty, moving a couple feet and pooping on my floor does not constitute "going potty" either.

All signed, with the deepest love,
Your very tired and frustrated Ima.

A girl, a door and a keyhole that wasn't.

So, yesterday evening I was in the kitchen cleaning up cottage cheese from the floor (Don't ask.) when Shira comes into the kitchen.

S: Chaya downstairs.
Me: Yes, Chaya's downstairs.
S: Chaya shower.
Me: *puzzled* Chaya's in the shower? Okay...
S: Chaya bathroom.
Me: *sigh* What is she doing?

I go downstairs. Its dark. The bathroom door is closed. I say a quick prayer that the door is unlocked. Nope. Its locked. Two voices are inside.

Me: Chaya? Open the door.
*giggle*
Me: Turn the door knob.
*rattle*
Me: That's it! Turn the door knob.
*rattle, rattle, jiggle*
Me: Batya, honey, turn the door knob.
*rattle, juggle, rattle*
Me: You can do it! Just turn the knob.
*clank, rattle*

So I feel around at the lock. (No lights are on and its Shabbat so no turning on lights unless its an emergency and I didn't feel like we were at that point.) I can feel an indentation in the knob so I get a few things to try as keys but nothing works. Then an idea strikes and I open the door to the garage and enough light comes in that I can see that it isn't an actual key hole but an indentation. So I use the side of the house key to turn the indentation and pop the lock open.

Inside, there is a pile of toilet paper in the middle of the floor but otherwise the room looks fine. I say a quick prayer that the toilet isn't full of paper and check. No paper. Good.

Chaya: Hi Mommy!
Me: Hi honey. Go upstairs.

Now, who wants to hear about the celery, goggles and knitted gnome on the upstairs landing?