If it weren't for the panic attacks, I could be a party planner!

I enjoy entertaining. I really, really do. And also, it really stresses me out. I enjoy planning parties, sometimes themed ones. I enjoy sending out invitations, planning the menu, decorating, searching for party favors. I enjoy preparing the food, trying out new recipes, designing the presentation of the food. The hours before the party I am a wreck. I am in a constant dialogue with myself that goes something like this:
"Oh crap, crap, crap."
"Everything is going to be fine. You ROCK at this."
"I am literally shaking."
"You have planned everything to perfection and now it's just in its final stages."
"I want to throw up."
"This is going to be FUN."
"I've changed my mind. I want to spend the night in bed watching TV instead."
"Pull yourself together- it's all going to be FINE."
And it IS. It's better than fine, it's amazing. I have fun, the guests have fun. I spend the next day looking at pictures over and over again, smiling, because everything was so great!

Most Recent Party: Shimmy's 30th Birthday Booze Cruise

Location:
An electric boat that toured the harbor for 2 hours

Menu:
Mexican pinwheels
Cheese ball and crackers
Babaganoush and veggies
Caprese salads in tomato bowls
Mini fruit tarts
Birthday cake made to look like a life preserver

Party favor:
Koozies that said "Shimmy's 30th Birthday Booze Cruise"






Next up: Purim Party on Sunday
We're expecting a large crowd of great friends. The menu is planned. The party favors are assembled. It's going to be awesome! Except for the panic attack that will ensue shortly beforehand.

UNION!

I am ready to organize. Who's in?

I am waiting for my kids to burst in the door any minute. It is Saturday night. It is past their bedtime. They are supposed to be at my parents' house until tomorrow afternoon. Apparently my four-year-old can manipulate a couple of 54-year-olds into making the 45-minute trip to take her home early. On one hand, I get it. She's a little kid and at that age (really, at any age) homesickness is real and hard to work through. One the other hand, I am angry. LIVID, actually. She has been spending a few weekends a year at my parents' house for entire life. Though I am sure there were some tears at some point during previous visits, she was never driven back early.

The real cause for my anger is that I feel cheated out of what was supposed to be a break. Breaks that come few and far between for me. Being a stay-at-home-mom is a full time job for me. I do EVERYTHING from the minute the kids wake up until they go to bed at night, and I hope and pray they stay asleep all night so I can at least clock out until the next morning. I don't have the weekends to look forward too, in fact, they are worse than the weekdays in many ways. 99% of the time I do this all alone, with no other parent present due to a demanding job of his own. I need a freaking break once in a while. Not to mention the conditions under which I work. I often eat scraps for meals. I am not afforded proper bathroom breaks. I get no sick leave at all whatsoever. And I'm tired of it. Let's organize! Union!

(Another) Stroke of Genius

Sophie: What comes after Sunday?
Me: Monday
Sophie: And then what?
Me: Tuesday
Sophie: And then what?
Me: Wednesday
Sophie: And then what?
Me: Thursday
Sophie: And then what?
Me: Friday
Sophie: And then what?
Me: Shabbat
Sophie: And then what?
Me: Sunday
Sophie: What comes after Sunday again?
Lilah (who had been listening to the whole conversation): Monday

Keeping Busy

To borrow some lyrics from George Harrison, it’s been a long, cold, lonely winter. The wind, cold, snow, and ice make winter unbearable for me. The days are short and bitter. Someone is sick at any given time. As if that wasn’t enough to bring me down, I’ve been a parenting by myself for most of the past few months. I have felt like a shadow of my normal self for too long now. It’s been hard. Whenever I am in a rut, funk, or just a difficult period of time, my strategy for surviving it is to stay busy. As Lucille Ball once said, "keeping busy and making optimism a way of life can restore your faith in yourself.” I believe this. It does work. Staying busy and telling myself that this period of time will pass gives me the motivation to keep on keeping on. And that makes me feel like I am doing a good job. I just try to get through each day. Several days become several weeks and several months. Before long I am looking back over the past months feeling satisfied that I survived them, and knowing that I will survive the next ones. I keep busy by signing us up for music classes, mommy and me, playgroups, and other activities. I arrange play dates and dinner company. I plan events and stay busy with the planning, executing, and recovering from them.

Recently we celebrated Sophie's birthday:



My birthday:

And had a family and family friends reunion of sorts:

I’m already onto the next things: Shimmy’s birthday (his 30^th!), Purim, and Lilah’s birthday. It’s good to stay busy. I know this difficult period of time will pass… Punxsutawney Phil predicts an early spring and I believe it. There is no snow in the forecast for the first time in weeks. I can see patches of grass. I have seen and heard birds outside- actual birds, not just the wretched crows that pick at the neighbors’ trash! I see that ice slowly melting. Smiles are returning to the faces. Here comes the sun.

Four Years of Birthdays

Happy Birthday to my sweet Sophia Grace :)

Good (Mama)Vibrations

Once, when I was pregnant with Sophie, I had a vivid dream. I dreamt I was this mama fish. I was in the deep sea, swimming along the ocean floor and there was some sort of predator, a bigger fish, perhaps. My heart was pounding as I tried to herd (school?) all of my baby fish to safety under a large rock/coral thing. It was so real. I woke up feeling panicked and exhausted. It was my first time experiencing that protective mother feeling and I hadn’t even given birth yet!

We have always had a fish tank in our home. I used to think of the fish as I think of a houseplant. It’s something nice to look at, it requires some care once in a while, and that’s about it. Since becoming a mom; however, the fish have become other beings that I care for. And, I SWEAR to you that they know I am the mama. If anyone else is in the room, they hardly notice. They go about their regular business of swimming and poking around. As soon as I WALK PAST THE DOORWAY they immediately form a school and all swim to the top of the tank. It’s so obvious that Shimmy even acknowledges it. And I can’t ignore them. It’s as if one of my children is standing at my feet asking to be held. If I haven’t fed the fish that day, I will feed them. If I have just fed them an hour earlier, I will stand there and talk to them for a while. It’s like they can just sense my mama vibes. And I accept this. I know I am the nurturer of the house and that this applies to nurturing every living thing, be it a human, a fish, or a plant.

Going about their business:

I've been spotted:

HI, MAMA!!!

Sorry in advance...

...but would you all mind terribly if I brag about my genius baby for a minute? If you do mind, don't read this post. I won't be insulted. In fact, I won't even know. I usually don't brag about exceptional things my kids do. I know their strengths, talents, and abilities. I feel thankful to God and I feel proud as a parent, and that's usually enough. I don't need to go out of my way to tell others about them. BUT, this blog is a way for me to archive my memories of their childhoods. And one day I am going to want to be able to recall specific examples of just how amazingly smart Lilah (21 months old) is. Here are those examples:
1. Some of the moms at playgroup were asking their kids where so-and-so was, hoping their kid would point to the correct person. I didn't participate, because I know Lilah knows who everyone is. When they were finished, Lilah said, "Where's Izzie?" Izzie was the one friend not there that day. Lilah pointed that out.
2. I asked Lilah's babysitter what she ate for lunch today. The babysitter said, "The chick patty, cheese, fruit, veggie chips, and water." Lilah, who had been listening the whole time, said, "and milk." Babysitter said, "Oh yea, and milk too."
3. We were leaving the house this afternoon and Lilah said, "right back," and went to get her hat and mittens.
4. We were sitting at the table eating grapes together and I noticed it was time to go get Sophie. I jumped up in a hurry and said, "we have to go now!" Lilah said, "hold on, Mommy." She put grapes back in the bowl and carried it to the refrigerator.

The kid is mad smart. My first clue was when, at just a couple of months old, she would kick the buttons on her mobile to make the music start again. I was clued in again at 15 months when she counted to six (actually pointed to 1,2,3,4,5,6 dots on a ladybug while saying the correct number). Again, and again I am amazed by her.

I would be remiss if I didn't talk about one of Sophie's amazing qualities too, namely, her incredible memory. The girl reminds me about things that happened over a year ago (which is a quarter of her lifetime)! I have always had a rididulous memory, so it's pretty awesome when she remembers things that I don't.

These kids are going to go far, my friends. Thanks for reading, and sorry again about the bragging. I'll try to keep it infrequent.