Every week we get a delivery from Boston Organics, which delivers a big box of organic fruits and veggies to our door. Now, I've never doubted the organic creds of the company, but a big fat green preying mantis/grasshopper/green thingy that appeared with our veggies definitely speak to the pesticide-free nature of our produce (and made me reconsider my avoidance of all things Monsanto).

Now, I understand it's important not to telegraph our fears and dislikes to our children. I can look any spider in the eye. I can check under dark beds and peer into dark closets without nary a shudder. I can show my kids the baby mice at our local Audubon without throwing up.

But this was a bug I could not face. It's not that the bug was so bad; it's that it was sitting in the kitchen. Pie is screaming. Doodles refuses to go near it. I'm frozen.

"I'll just throw a bowl over it and then we can figure it out," I say.

"Okay," says Doodles.

"Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh!" says Pie.

I take a bowl. I approach the bug. I back up from the bug. I approach the bug again. I back up from the bug. I approach the bug again. No can do. What if it jumps away when I put the bowl down?

"You do it!" I say to Doodles.

"No way!" he says and he escapes to the family room to play his Didj.

I call Adam. He's not in. I text him: BUG! Bug emergency! We're trapped in the kitchen!

I call my neighbor Beetle on her cell phone, because I know she's due home from the library any minute. But it turns out her daughter's class there goes longer than she thought, but she'll be by when they're done.

In desperation, I even call my sister. In New York. She was always so good about letting herself into my NYC apartment, while I hid out in the loft bed, to retrieve the dead mice on my floor that my cat would try to turn into lunch. Tweedle Twirp, unfortunately, is unavailable. Or at least screening my calls. One can never be sure.

I put Pie on the counter, because she's too scared to be on the floor, and we watch the bug to make sure it doesn't hop away anywhere.

Finally Adam calls. "Are you kidding me?" he asks.

"It's a big bug. Don't you have a meeting?" I ask.

"It's at five." It was 4:10 at the time.

"Great. You have time to come home, get rid of the bug, and then get back to your meeting."

You'll be shocked by this, but he declines.

"Just smash it with a broom!" he says.

"That will kill it!"

"You want to rescue it??" he asks.

"I don't want to kill it!"

"Here's what you do," he offers as his last suggestion. "Grab a sheet of newspaper. Throw it over the bug. And then have the kids jump on it. Make it a game and see who can stomp on it first."

Yeah, that was helpful.

Luckily, it was only minutes later that Beetle and Tab show up. Of course they ring the front door bell. And we can't get to the front door. Because, you know, there's a bug there.

We open the kitchen door and yell to them to come around.

All I can say is thank goodness for Beetle. She took that bug and scooped it up and took it outside. The bug was rescued. And then it promptly died. Seriously. Right outside. It keeled over. Dead.

You just can't win. And now, I'm going to eat some pesticide-free apples. And try to ignore the fact that my daughter will forever be freaked out by preying mantises/grasshoppers/green thingies. Because of me. Because, you know, you just can't win.

Labels: me, neighbors, pie

If there's a greater torture to mankind than Wow Wow Wubzy, I have no idea what it is. This has got to be the most vacuous, vapid, piece of TV crap ever created. But Pie loves it. And Doodles is off at the Cub Scouts, weighing in his car for the Pinewood Derby, and little Pie wanted to go along too, but can't because it goes past her bedtime, so here I am watching Wow Wow Shoot Me.

I've been pretty focused lately (which is why you haven't seen as much of me here). I'm not really happy with where my novel is at the moment, but I'm probably within days of a complete first draft, at which point my poor beleaguered readers will have to help me parse what I can do to revive it. But it's a good feeling, knowing that I'll at least have the beginning-middle-end all in one piece,albeit one that will need to be dissected and rebuilt. But the body is there.

The crafty world has also sucked me in. For Purim I baked mounds of hamentashen (the ones with Fluff came out fabulously! I highly recommend. They come out tasting like toasted marshmallow and were a huge hit with the under-10 crowd). I've been baking my own bread. I've made turtles and homemade gummies. I've been knitting (see those hand warmers on Pie?) and crocheting (I made that penguin for Doodles when his class was studying penguins). My photo albums are slowly becoming organized. Waiting through dance classes and gymnastics classes and Hebrew school is much easier when I have something to do with my hands.



The final thing I have right now is running. I've signed up to do the Chicago Marathon in the fall with my friend Fish. I'm a little worried about him backing out, and I'm not going to go to Chicago on my own for a race, but I'll have a back up marathon, just in case. But I'd like to get my marathon closer to 4 hours (from 4:13:46). It's already giving me the motivation to run and I'm antsy to get out there. The hint of spring we've had is helping a lot.

So for now, it's Groovy Girls (Pie received a mother load of them as hand-me-downs from Tab, and she wants to spend all afternoon with my playing Groovy Girls with her) and Wow Wow Wubzy. If you were doing this, you'd be anxious to run, too. Far far away.

Labels: crafts, pie, running, writing

I've been suckered. It's 7:59 p.m. and I've got two incredibly sleepy children next to me. But I made the mistake earlier of saying, "Hey, the Olympic opening ceremonies are on at 7:30. If you guys want to stay up late, you can watch it." They, of course, took me up on the offer, and we started watching.

Before we began, I said to Adam, "Did you hear about the luger?" "No," he said. "Look it up. But don't say anything. I don't want it a topic of discussion." What was I thinking? Doodles and I had a huge battle when I turned off the TV when Tom Brokaw said, "The footage you are about to see about the death of Georgian luge slider Nodar Kumaritashvili is graphic." We had no choice but to explain to them about the accident. Pie keeps asking over and over, "So he went off the quarters?" "The course." "So he died?" "Yes, he died." "How did he die?"

Let me move on by saying the (male) sportscaster is interviewing snowboarder Shaun White. Me: "Man, I wish I had a head of hair like him."
Pie: "Him? That's a guy?"
Me: "Yeah."
Pie: "How do you know?"
Me: "I just know."
Pie: "Are those two people [Sean and the sportscaster] married?"
Me: "No."

So all this is happening, and I finally say to Adam, "What time, exactly, do these opening ceremonies start? I thought it was 7:30."

He does a little zing zing on his computer and then laughs at me. "Coverage of the opening ceremonies start at 7:30. But the opening ceremonies don't start till 9."

Try telling my kids, "Nevermind! I was wrong!" So instead I have two already tired kids trying their best to make it up till 9. It's not going to happen. But they're giving it their all, although I predict Pie will be out in about 2.73 minutes.

5. 4. 3. 2. 1. No, the ceremonies haven't started. But Pie wins the gold medal in sleep. One down, one to go!

Labels: doodles, pie, sports

Lots of times when I run, my mind is focused on something specific: a problem I'm trying to work out in my novel, working out a school situation for Doodles, thinking about ways to get Pie over her tantrum stage. I frequently make and go over my to-do lists when I'm out there. Running is the best method I have for de-stressing and working things out. But occasionally, I'll just crank up the iPod and my mind will float where it may. This past Monday, as I kept up a nice tempo and ABC (the band, not the kid song) was playing, my mind wandered and I started thinking about the kids. But oddly, I realized, that when I think about the kids, I think about them about two years behind. When I picture the kids, I think of Pie as a toddler, speaking in halting sentences, and Doodles, as this little kid bopping around and tripping on himself with his uncoordinated walk. When I see them in real life, it's almost shocking.

Who are these big kids? I sign Pie up for kindergarten today and, oh, the things she can do! She can go to the computer, turn it on, load up her phonics game, and play. She can add and subtract and write the names of everyone in the family. She's the best Go Fish player I've met. She's adept at using my iPhone and knows the words to Selena Gomez's and Hannah Montana's most popular songs. She oozes attitude like a teenager.

My boy is not just reading, he's reading. We've moved way beyond Minnie and Moo and Biscuit and his new "just right books" include my childhood favorites, like Judy Blume. We're reading Freckle Juice together and last night, as we went to bed, he said, "Yea! Another chapter of Freckle Juice!" He absorbs information and can spew out things he gleaned from books or school or by looking it up on the computer. Adam and I are no longer the ultimate sources of knowledge--he can find things out himself.

I've noticed of late that my kids simply take up more space. Pie's outgrown her car seat and we're going to be a booster-only family. Doodles laughs every time I mock-cry, "My baby boy! Stop getting so big!" and he tells me, "Mom, I can't help it! It's what I'm supposed to do!"

What's a mama to do?

Labels: doodles, pie

Me: Okay, everyone out of the car. Little people out. Big people out. Medium people out.
Pie: I'm big!
Doodles: I'm big and Pie's little.
Me, standing by Doodles: Oh, really? You don't seem so big to me!
Doodles: Well, duh. Compared to you I'm little!
Pie: I know! You're big. We're little. And teenagers are medium.
Me: That sounds good.
Pie: Yeah, I'll be medium when I'm a teenager.
Me: Yep.
Pie: And you were medium about 400 years ago!
Me: 400 years ago?!?!
Pie: Um, 500 years?

Labels: pie

Six. That's right, six. The magic age when a child becomes embarrassed by his mother. My son has suddenly blossomed into tweendom. Walking home from school, I was chatting up a neighbor girl. A second grader. Who lives on our block. Walking home with her father and her younger sister. The humiliating conversation?

Me, first to Tab and then to Doodles: So, anything exciting happen today?
Tab: No.
Doodles: Mmmph.
Me to neighbor girl: How about you? Anything exciting happen today?
Neighbor: Well...
Doodles, hitting me with his jacket: Mom! Cut it out!
Neighbor: We watched a movie at school today.
Me: That does sound exciting. What movie?
Doodles: MOM! CUT IT OUT!
Me: Sweetie, I'm allowed to talk to our neighbor if I choose to.
Doodles: No!
Neighbor: It was a Magic Schoolbus movie.
Me: What was it about?
Doodles, still hitting me: CUT IT OUT CUT IT OUT CUT IT OUT CUT IT OUT CUT IT OUT!
Neighbor: It was about gravity. Because we're learning about the moon!
Doodles: Cut it out!
Me: Doodles you're being rude.
[pause a few seconds]
Doodles: Mom, can I have computer time when we get home?
Timing isn't his forte. And for the record, the answer was no.

Pie, four-year-old little Pie, isn't immune to tweendom, either. Her birthday is six months, four weeks and one day away. Pie is suddenly into the rock stars and she's planning a rock star birthday. ("Can I have a swimming rock star birthday?" "That might be a bit much." "Okay, then this birthday will be a rock star birthday and my six birthday will be a swimming party.") She's obsessed with being a rock star. Which has led to some interesting outfits. Pie has a number of dresses that she loves, but which she's clearly grown out of. A few weeks ago, we agreed that she could keep wearing the too-small dresses but with a pair of leggings underneath.

A couple of days ago she put on one of those dresses, which barely grazes her tush.
Me: You've definitely grown out of that dress!
Pie: Oh?
Me: It's too short on you. Why don't you put some leggings?
Pie: Oh, I don't need to!
Me: I thought we said when dresses are too short, you'd wear them with leggings. Lots of rock stars wear leggings. It's very popular for rock stars.
Pie: But, Mom, I saw Hannah Montana! And she had on a really short skirt with no leggings! So I'll just wear tights with the dress.

Just shoot me now.

Labels: doodles, pie

My kids have personalities as different as can be. But nowhere does it show itself as clearly as it does in their reaction to the weather. Doodles, who claimed that his favorite thing about the trip to Miami Beach was "the hotness," constantly bemoans the fact that we live in New England instead of Florida. The minute the temperature drops, the boy becomes a couch potato, piling up a stack of books, planting himself in front of the fireplace, and settling in for the day.

The girl has the opposite reaction. She wakes up. "Snow? Can I shovel!" She's the first one in her snow pants and ready to play outside. This morning as I attempted to shovel us out--attempted because it was one of those wet, heavy snows that doesn't want to cooperate with the shovel--she proclaimed, "Do you know what my favorite season is? It's winter!" And then she attempted to make a snow slide out of the mounds being shoveled.

I want to buy all of us snow shoes. Pie says, "Can we go today?" I tell her, "I haven't bought them yet!" Doodles protests, "I don't want snow shoes. It's just walking in the snow with tennis rackets on your feet. And I hate walking."

My sun worshiper and my snow baby. And never the 'twain shall meet.

Labels: doodles, pie, snow

We survived the trip down. Somehow. It started with Adam insisting we needed to leave at 8 for our 11:10 flight, which seemed ridiculously early to me, but I figured he knew what he was talking about. So I woke up before 6 a.m. to finish packing and get the house cleaned, and sure enough at 8, he said, "Oh, wait. We leave at 11:10! I was off on my math. We don't need to leave for another hour." And then we left, all packed up and ready to go... except for all of Adam's New Year's cards, which he left sitting on a shelf. We had to call Beetle to let herself into our house to get the cards to mail. Then the friends we were traveling with had a very sick (read: pukey) daughter who decided to brave the trip anyway. And when we got down here, I realized I forgot something that was crucial to a promised activity for Doodles. And then tonight at bedtime, Pie decided to completely rebel. I mean totally. Wouldn't go to bed. Not at all. I was ready to throttle her. She was whining and crying and pouting and nowhere near her bed, so I did the only reasonable thing possible.

I left. And got ice cream. Because that's the main benefit of being in Miami Beach, having the Nana to take care of the Pie when she's out of control. While Pie screamed and fussed, Adam and I took a leisurely stroll down to Lincoln Road where we stopped into the Frieze for ice cream. Looking around Lincoln Road, you would have no idea it was Christmas. Folks were out en masse. Stores were open. The movies were sold out. Now, you're probably thinking, "Well it's because Miami Beach is full of Jews who don't celebrate Christmas," but you'd be completely wrong. The Jewish population of Miami Beach has completely dwindled, and besides, it is Shabbat, which means anyone who is actually an observant Jew is home with family. Miami Beach is now predominantly Latin American, and most of those folks like them some Baby Jesus. So I have no idea what so many folks were doing out tonight, drinking martinis, letting their way-too-young kids wreak havoc, and eating dinners at an absurdly late hour. "Do they know it's Christmas time at all?"

Labels: holiday, Miami Beach, pie

Both Pie and Rebecca Rubin are doing well right now, thank you. It was really touch and go for both of them for a bit. Pie had such a fit this morning that I had a choice to make: Do something that would rightfully have DSS after me or take it out on Rebecca Rubin. I'm sorry Rebecca Rubin. But those moments you spent in the trash can were well worth it, in my book.

Adam's still in London and the kids have morphed into devil children. Pie refused to walk Doodles to school, which meant that either 1) she'd be home alone or 2) Doodles would miss school (which given what comes next, I don't think he would have minded). Out and out tantrum about getting on her boots to walk the boy. That's when Rebecca Rubin made a visit to the trash can (and no, I did not put a $100 doll in the trash can, but she took a little rest on top of the trash can). And then finally--screaming the entire three blocks--we get to Doodles's school where Doodles--Doodles!!!--had a horrendous drop off. He cried and cried and refused to go into school and his (yes, 1st grade!) teacher had to peel him off of me.

After school, Pie was whiny and insisted on a playdate. It was really against my better judgment, but I agreed. The girl who came over is a charming girl, who I actually really like a lot. (Does this mean there are kids I don't like? Let's not go there, shall we?) Let's just say the playdate did not go well. On either side. Pie didn't share. The other girl decided we were all mean (I was mean--I insisted she hold my hand when we crossed the street to pick up Doodles. Can you believe what a be-yatch I am?). No one could get along. The playdate ended very early.

I managed to keep both kids alive and occupied the rest of the afternoon without resorting to too much bribery (okay, there may have been a few extra marshmallows in the hot chocolate, but this is survival mode!).

And now? Now the kids are fed, in pajamas, teeth brushed, and parked in front of Phineas and Ferb. If I play my cards right, they'll both be in bed by 7 and I'll have my glass of wine at 7:01.

We're almost at the finish line. Almost....

Labels: doodles, meltdowns, pie

Pie asks if we can play Pengoloo, and I say sure. Pengaloo is a memory game in which penguins sit upon colored eggs. You roll the dice and have to find the colors on the dice.

Pie finds the first two sets immediately.

"Wow, you're lucky!" I say.

"Well, I set up the penguins. So maybe I know where they all are."

Labels: pie

Tonight begins eight days and nights of greasy, oily skin... I mean Hanukkah! Hanukkah officially began about two hours ago, and I've already had latkes three times this season. Ugh. Today I went into Doodles's class to make latkes, but first I had to experiment and make them last week, because--due to allergies--I needed to make egg-free latkes. I did. It was brilliant. And I couldn't let the first night of Hanukkah slip by without more oily disks of fat. Mmmm, oily disks of fat!

I'm happy that Pie was pleased with her gift tonight. I had my concerns after listening to her talk to my father on the phone. Pie asked for an American Girl doll for Hanukkah, specifically "the Jewish one." I passed the request on to one of her grandparents, and I'm sure she'll be thrilled with the results. But in the meantime, I had a hand-me-down American Girl doll and a stroller for her that I wrapped up. She felt it yesterday before I could yell at her to get her grubby little paws off the gifts. And today, when she was talking with Peter, she said with great excitement, "We get to open presents tonight. I'm pretty sure there's a stroller in one of them! So that's mean we'll be getting a baby!"

Did anyone else just throw up a little bit? Anyway, she was thrilled with her doll, and the kids loved the gifts they got from the Tweedle Twirp. I'm preparing for our annual Hanukkah party (which Pie has apparently mentioned to everyone at school, regardless of whether or not they were invited, making for some lovely, comfortable discussions...Not).

Now it's time for little people to go to bed and for me to clean the oil off the kitchen walls... although what's the point? I guess I can just leave it there till Hanukkah's over. Back to baking, gotta get the holiday cards written, and bask in the peace of the season. "GET YOUR PJS ON ALREADY AND BRUSH YOUR TEETH!" Oh, sorry. I wasn't talking to you.

Happy Hanukkah!

Labels: holiday, pie

I'm watching Singing in the Rain with my kids. We checked it out of the library, "we" being me and Pie, as Doodles swore he had no interest and all he wanted to do was listen to the Harry Potter book on CD he checked out. But about ten minutes in, Doodles wandered into the room and became hooked.

"You know," I told Pie. "Gene Kelly is a very famous dancer."

"Really?" she asked. "Was he in Mamma Mia?"

Of course, it didn't start out well. The MGM Lion? Well, apparently it's terrifying. It took a lot of convincing to get Pie turned around to watch the film. You know what else is terrifying? When Lena gets a Pie in the face. Yikes! Head buried! And if you're outside in the rain alone? Sc-ar-y!

But nothing, no nothing, is as terrifying to anyone as the romantic scenes are to Doodles. He literally cowers under the covers (he's watching in his underwear, beneath our couch blanket) anytime anyone embraces and makes whimpering noises if he accidentally sees kissing.

And did you know the movie is confusing. "Why did his face go all squishy? Who talks yucky? Why is that a yucky voice? Why is he going through that wall? Why is she wearing that?" And on. And on. And on.

Till she passed out. Leaving only Doodles glued to the screen. As long as no one is smooching, that is.

Labels: doodles, movies, pie

Conversation with the Tweedle Twirp and her pregnant friend, kids playing nearby.
Me: And so then I got dressed for the party [my grandfather's 90th birthday party in Miami in July]. I was eight months pregnant and something just didn't look right. I called the Tweedle Twirp in and said, "What is wrong with this outfit? The shoes look all wrong. I've been wearing them for a year now and they looked fine. Why do they look so weird now?" Tweedles evaluated me for a good long while before she finally said, "Well, they looked better when you still had ankles." "Ankles!" I said. "That's it!"
The next night, I overheard Doodles talking to his friend J.
Doodles: Did you know that when women get pregnant, they lose their ankles?

*****

Pie: Mommy, how does Chrysanthemum know who's Christian and who's not?
Me: Chrysanthemum?
Pie: Yeah. How does Chrysanthemum know who to bring presents to?
Me: Like in the book?
Pie: Yeah.
Me: The mouse? Who doesn't like her name?
Pie: Um, I guess.
Me: Do you mean Santa Claus?
Pie: Yes! How does Santathemum Claus know who's Christian and who's not?
Me: Remember I told you, Santa Claus isn't real. Mommies and Daddies buy presents for the kids. Santa is made up, but it's not something we talk about with our non-Jewish friends. Santa isn't real.
Pie: I know!
Me: Okay.
Pie: So how does he know? Who's Christian and who's not?

Labels: doodles, holiday, pie

After dance class last Thursday:
Me: Doodles, as soon as we get home, you need to do your homework.
Doodles: Mom, do you know what I hear you say? [Puts up one hand and makes a quacking motion]. "Doodles. Blah, blah, blah, homework. Blah, blah, blah, homework. Blah, blah, blah, homework." [Puts up other hand and makes same talking motion] "Mom, can we stop talking about homework?" [Back to other hand] "Blah blah blah homework."

In the car, the kids were comparing notes:
Doodles: Do you know what Dad says all the time?
Me: No, what?
Doodles: Cheeses crises! [Say it outloud and you'll understand it]
Me, laughing: Yes, he does.
Pie: And dammit!

Labels: doodles, pie

Ah. I'd like to say that with the help of Dayquil, sugar, and a few well-placed threats, we made it successfully through our NYC trip. But we still have the return trip and Pie is nearing the end of her happy-trip attitude. With all the "surprises" over, she's d-u-n-n (which is our family's version of the word, a la "r-u-n-n o-f-t"). Tonight she got a little sad, missing her big brother. She insisted on calling him, and then after talking realized she forgot to tell him she'd see him tomorrow, so she demanded I give her the phone back to tell him. Meanwhile, Doodles is showing his innate guyness--when I said to him, "I miss you!" he simply responded, "Me too."

My cold is somewhat fierce (and, yes, it's still a cold. I have a lovely--but productive!--hack), but it's well medicated, so I'm good. As you've seen, we've had a most lovely and busy day. Pie was so happy with the Plaza that she overcame her disappoint that Eloise wasn't there. Although as she left, she asked if we could come back later in the day to see if Eloise was back, but I pointed out we'd be a little busy to come all the way back.

My mom's show (will I ever remember? Exhibit!) at the Nohra Haime Gallery (in the Fuller building on 57th street--visit it if you're in the area!) was the second stop, and Pie was fascinated by Nana's latest work, which is intriguing.

But, oh, the light in her eyes when we showed up at Dashing Divas. She took right to her mani/pedi. And then the excitement at the cupcake store. So many cupcakes! How to choose! But nothing, nothing! compared with the thrill of Pinkalicious. There was actual squealing involved. And she sat, rapt, the entire time, mouth slightly agape, moving only to see around the woman in front of us (I let her sit on my lap for a better view). The musical was cute--and quite tolerable at just an hour long. I've never seen so many ecstatic little girls in one place: Bleeker Street, the preschool version. That was a first for me. Pie waited patiently at the end for an autograph and to have her picture taken with Pinkalicious afterward. Definitely worth harassing the ticket guy to get Pie in.

Lunch was good, but Pie was definitely fading. I was glad we made it to Benny's--one of my favorite places from my East Village days. I ordered the same thing I've ordered all these years--a quesadilla grande. I don't think I'll ever venture to anything else.

Our only downer--other than the occasional "I can't walk anymore!"--was when we finally trekked to the F train (in the rain!), we waited and waited. An announcement would come on, and I'd ask around, "What did he say? Did you understand that?" The crowd grew and grew and the announcement played and played "Garble garble...Broadway/Lafeyette...garble garble...J Street... garble garble." Finally I found someone who understood it. "Train's not running here. Walk to the next stop and take the D train." So we trekked over to the next stop. I did look for a cab, but on a rainy day, no surprise that not a cab was to be found.

So after that slow shuffle to the next subway station, Pie's collapse was no surprise. The walking for the entire day was fairly substantial. From the apartment to the subway to the Plaza, from the Plaza to the gallery, from the gallery to the subway at 60th St., from the subway on Broadway to 8th and University to Bleeker and Lafeyette to Avenue A and 6th Street to Houston and First to Broadway and Lafeyette to... well, that's when she fell asleep. Sitting on the subway. She had a seat and I was standing in front of her and all of a sudden, her little head leaned forward into my legs. I asked the person next to her, "Is she really asleep?" She looked down and said, "Yep!"

Of course, this was the day I decided to wear nicer shoes, so in my heels, I picked Pie up on the moving subway, made my way to the doors, and then carried 40 pounds of dead weight back to the apartment. She woke up and that's when she started pining for her big brother.

And me? My Nyquil has started to take effect. So I'm off to bed. The ride home will be nightmarish, but at sometime tomorrow, Pie will be reunited with her Doodles, and all will be right in the world again.

Labels: New York, pie

Labels: New York, pie

Can't miss the quesadilla grande at Benny's Burritos.

Labels: New York, pie

...Pinkalicious, The Musical!

Labels: New York, pie

Nothing controversial about this stop! A trip to Crumbs, for a cupcake
extraordinaire. She ordered the Reeses cupcake. Too bad she didn't
order a pink cupcake because our next stop is...

Labels: New York, pie

When searching for this online, I discovered that little girl mani/
pedis are a very controversial topic. I don't wish to debate it. The
girl loved it. And we now have matching nails.

Labels: New York, pie

Labels: art, New York, pie

The first stop on our whirlwind day is to the Plaza, Plaza, Plaza to
see, of course, if Eloise was home. We were rawther disappointed to
learn she was running errands with Nanny, but we did get to see her
picture and she was kind enough to leave Pie a postcard.

Labels: New York, pie

Labels: art, New York, pie

Note to self: When telling a four-year-old that you're going to an art show, be sure to emphasize the art part and perhaps use the word "exhibit" instead of "show." Because, otherwise, after entering an extremely crowded museum (luckily for free through the passes of my mother), you will have a sad child looking for "the people doing a show."

Today was another trip down memory lane. I recently got back in touch with a former roommate, a woman I met at my first post-college job at Saatchi and Saatchi. We lived together in a one-bedroom apartment in Alphabet City, back when Alphabet City was a scarier part of town, about a year after the riots in Tompkins Square Park. Our apartment was one block north and one block east of the park. I know I've written about it before. It was the fifth floor of a walk-up, where the front door didn't lock, and the light on the third floor landing was out so you'd have to step over the homeless guys sleeping there. She slept in the living room and I slept in the bedroom because, well, I whine loudly and she's a nicer person than I am. The only closet, though, was in the bedroom so she'd tiptoe in to get her shoes, which was fine except when my sort-of boyfriend was there and when the psycho cat was having flashbacks (we had a cat passed on to us named Motorhead. A female cat named Motorhead. This cat had done more drugs than Flower, myself, the sort of boyfriend, and the rest of the apartment building including the guy sleeping on the third-floor landing put together. This cat was not normal but she did do a thorough job on the mice, of which there were a few). This was the apartment that taught me it is easier to buy more underwear than to cart my clothes down five flights and four blocks away to be cleaned. Hence why Adam does laundry today (no one--I mean no one--can outlast my supply of underwear, so I never, ever need to do laundry). I could continue with this little history for a long, long time, so let's move on to today.

My roommate, Flower (the name I actually call her, but not her real name), found me online and I got to meet her for breakfast this morning at City Bakery. Pie came with us, got a muffin, met Flower ("Her name is really Flower? I can call her 'Flower'?"), and then got picked up by my father so Flower and I could catch up. I haven't seen her since I moved out of New York in 1994. So, you know, it had been a while. It was amazing seeing her--it brought back memories I had long, long forgotten (or repressed?), including a week-long stay in the hospital. How do you forget things like that? I had.

See? The magic of the Internet. I have Flower back! We had a nosh, we did a little shopping (I'm almost good on all my Hanukkah shopping), roaming the Union Square area (more memories--my NYU dorm was on Union Square).

After I said good-bye to Flower, I retrieved Pie and my mother, and we headed to the "art show" that had no "show." The afternoon was saved, though, because the Guggenheim has a ramp. Oh! What a ramp! She climbed up and up and up! Occasionally we tried to point out the art work ("What do you see here? Aren't these interesting colors?") and she'd look for a second and then head back to the ramp. She had some interest in the Anish Kapoor piece and the gold of the beads. But, worryingly, the thing that most interested her was the Kitty Kraus, a room that basically had melted ink all over the floor. And us with those beautiful new floors at home. Oh well.

She became interested in the Kadinsky "bubble" painting after we suggested that when she got back to the apartment she could make her own Kadinsky-inspired art work.

We were hoping to meet the Tweedle Twirp for a late lunch, but Pie pooped, so we headed back to the apartment. Tweedles and I went out for some Japanese food and a trip to the Strand, and Pie stayed back at the apartment to create an art museum with my mom. I listened to Tweedles's life of academia and woes about bedbugs (yes, she had bedbugs! And did you know a bedbug registry exists? Awesome! She had to heat everything in her apartment to above 120 degrees using some special machine and everything the owned was put in ziplock bags. She also had to buy new furniture. Fun times!), but apparently it's too soon to joke about the bedbugs, so no snide comments here. We came back to a wonderful art museum in the apartment--Pie spent quite a while making wonderful drawings.

Tomorrow is the day of Pie surprises. I'll try to post as we do them so you can be surprised along with her. I'm really looking forward to tomorrow and hope the girl can keep her stamina up. We start the day with a breakfast at the gallery that's having her show, which Pie knows about, and then we continue with the ultimate girl day.

The only thing marring this trip so far is I've developed a rather bad cold. I keep checking in with myself ("No fever. Good. Oh, that cough is in my chest and phlegmy. Check. Stuffy nose. Yep.") just to make sure it's really a cold and not H1N1. One of my favorite things to do in NYC is of course running. I love going down the West Side, in Henry Hudson park, around the tip of Manhattan. But with this cold, that's not happening. Luckily race season is over and I'm not training for anything, so I can allow myself to be a slug for a few days.

So for now, I'm off to take my Nyquil. Good night, everyone! Sleep tight. Don't let the bedbugs bite.

Labels: art, New York, pie

My daughter is definitely a City Mouse. And I am not nearly as organized as I'd like to be. My plans to leave home for the Big City at 6 a.m. kinda petered out as we finally left at 7. And by 7, I mean 7:38. But we made great time right up to the point where we weren't making great time, and Pie only asked seven times in the first hour, "When are we going to be in New York?"

The drive was painless right up to Westchester, when the powers that be decided to make the three-lane highway and one-lane highway, extending out trip by a full hour. But we made it to my parents' apartment just in time for lunch and then we headed out for our adventures.

Our first stop was my old office. Well, not really my old office, but yes really my old office. Once upon a time, in a decade far far away, I worked for the book publishing company Putnam Berkley, which has since become Penguin Putnam. Our offices were in the Murray Hill area. The offices have since moved to a swank building in SoHo. So I never worked there. Except that I have because my very first short-lived job out of college was working in advertising. In the very same swank building.

Visiting the office really made me miss those days of having a place to go and work to do. The woman I visited is now the head of the whole department, and she was the also the woman who replaced me when I left the job in 1994. A lifetime ago. It's hard not to think what ifs. What if I had stayed in New York. What if I had stayed in publishing. What if, what if, what if. But really, I remember finding my job rather dull, and I was near the end when I applied for grad school. New York was grating on my nerves--I spent way too much time working (I had to do freelance after work to make enough money to pay my rent) and not enough time doing the things that one moves to New York to do. So I left.

But it's still fun visiting them, hearing what everyone is up to. But after I got my grown-up time in, it was on to kid stuff. We hooked up with the Nana and headed to Milk and Cookies for, surprise! Milk and cookies. Yummy, decadent cookies. And then off to Porto Rico for superdark coffee. (Note to anyone else whose husband says, "Buy me superdark coffee." That's not actually a coffee name. Just a description. And you'll look like an idiot if you just walk up and say, "A pound of the Superdark, please." Just sayin'.) And finally to that shopping mecca, the destination that one litle girl has been pining for lo these years: LittleMissMatched. That girl of mine is obsessed with socks and MissMatched socks at that. I think we pretty much bought the store out. We walked a bit. Pie is a great people watcher and she sat happily for a bit at the ice rink at Rockefeller Center. She wanted to go see if Eloise was home, but she started to fade so we headed back to my parents apartment ("Yea!! Subway, subway, subway!" [sung to the tune of "The Bundle Dance").

Next few days are full. I've already called my boy twice--I miss him like crazy, but know he's going to have a good guys weekend, which apparently includes eating copious amounts of steak. And we're going to have a great girls weekend, which includes... Well, I can't tell you. Because when I told Pie on Wednesday, "I made some fabulous plans for us," she squealed, clapped, and said, "Don't tell me! I want to be surprised!"

So we'll have surprises all around!

Labels: New York, pie

I want to start tonight with my faux-pumpkin bars. They were fabulous, and highly unappreciated in this house, although when I went to give a bunch of the leftovers to our neighbors, my boy did panic and say, "You're not going to give all of it away are you?" They were spectacular faux-pumpkin bars. Once a week, we get a delivery from Boston Organics, a box full of organic fruits and veggies, and I'm on a quest to actually use all the items we get. (Never fear--it never goes to waste. I fondly call Beetle, my neighbor, our human garbage disposal, as she's always game to take any food that will be uneaten in our household.) I'm also trying to cook as many meatless meals as possible, something which is not going over that well with the rest of my household members (read: Adam). For instance, on Wednesday we had a lovely cauliflower and tomato curry-like dish that I enjoyed and Adam tolerated. And today we had my lovely bars, a recipe I found online and then tweaked to perfection, replacing the pumpkin with organic delicata squash (hence the faux), mixing up the sugars, removing the chocolate chips and adding a cream cheese frosting. Mmmmm!

And now let's move on to my faux-healthy daughter. She fools me every day, acting healthy and chipper and happy and then--wham!--at night, she has aches and pains that keep her for hours on end. Last night she awoke at 2 a.m., saying her "brain hurt." Uh oh,, I thought. Here it comes. Piggy flu. Sudden onset. Headaches. But then she woke up with a lovely 98.7 degree temperature and an upbeat attitude. She went to school. On Friday we have our special Mommy-Pie time, as she's done at noon and we have no activities till we pick up Doodles at 2:15. Today we went on a "hike" (read: woodsy walk), stopping frequently to read the book du jour, Chicken Soup with Rice. At the end of the hike, we had to walk up a small hill. And my daughter--the one I had always thought of as suspiciously smart--announces, "I'm going to roll up the hill!"

"You mean down," I said.

"No!" She looked at me like I was crazy. "Up!" And then she proceeded to roll up this rather steep hill. Tonight Adam said to her, "You thought you could roll up a hill?" and she laughed at him and replied, "Daddy! I did it!"

And tonight, she's in bed, with not quite a fever, but verging on one, snoring loudly and crying out in her sleep every now and then. So frustrating! We're supposed to have a special Mommy-Daughter trip next weekend--I hope she's healthy enough to go.

And now let's end with faux time. Which is what I had today, after I dropped Pie off at school, ran some errands, and hurried home to get a few things done. But then I giddly looked at my watch and realized I had accomplished everything I needed to do faster than I thought and I had a precious whole forty-five minutes to write! It's Nanowrimo month, and I've consciously decided not to participate as I don't want to start something new; I want to finish something old. So I sat down at my computer... and saw I was late to pick up Pie. Huh? Look at computer. Look at watch. Look at computer again. Look at... stopped watch. Damn.

No more faux. Off to sleep. I'm hoping for the real deal.

Labels: food, pie, writing

Today I made it into Doodles's classroom to help with pumpkin carving. Luckily most of the class was back--for the past week most kids have been out sick. Well, maybe not most, but half. Literally (and we know I don't mess around with the word "literally"). Out of 18 kids and 2 teachers, yesterday 9 kids and 1 teacher were out sick. Can anyone say "Treyf flu"?

But going into the class was really fun, even if Doodles does act up specially for me. The kids drew their own designs and I carved them onto the pumpkin for them. While we were working (other parents were there too to help), the teacher put on some Halloween music. Irresistible Halloween music. There was no stopping anyone from getting up and shaking a tush, to the point that by the end, the teachers were teaching the kids how to do the dance to "Thriller."

The song stuck in my head, and when we got home, against my own better judgment, I decided to show the "Thriller" video to the kids. I know it's scary, but, hey! The kids are in our bed anyway. Might as well have some fun with it.

Tab is over and so I gathered them around the computer and YouTubed it for them. Big mistake. Not because it was scary. But because the questions came fast and furious. "Why is his arm falling off? How was he a person and then he was a dead and then he was a person again? Why are they chasing her? I don't understand--is he a person or is he dead?"

And the questions haven't stopped. So, yes, "Thriller" was scary. But only for me.

Labels: doodles, pie

Courtesy of Adam:
Mylie Cyrus/Hannah Montana - check
Beyonce – check
Project Runway – check
Mama Mia - check

Next time you catch Pie singing "Single Ladies," you'll know she's right in step with the rest of American little girls.

Labels: pie

I've been getting grief from my father (hi, Peter!) for not blogging. I'm not completely sure why I'm not blogging, but I haven't. Part of it is that I am writing, just not for you. I've been working steadily away on my novel. I'm at a rough place in it at the moment, not sure if it's all gelling together. I need to just plug away at it. Part of it is also that I've lost that snark factor. Now that I have kids, I feel like I can't let my bitch out. It's one thing to alienate my friends; it's something else to alienate my kids' friends. But I go through this blogging crisis about once a year and the fact is that it's been eight years I've been doing this, which is longer than I've done almost anything else in my life. The only thing more consistent in my life is Adam, as I've been with him for almost ten years. But I've never lived in a single place for eight years. I've never had a job for eight years. Eight years is something to be reckoned with, so here I am.

And right now is my writing time. I should be working on my novel. But my darling daughter pulled the old "I'm healthy but now you can't send me to school" trick. Last night the boy was trying to get out of homework. Pie had just gotten home from a playdate and was cranky, but nothing out of the ordinary. But the boy! Oh the moaning, the groaning. "I can't do my homework! My head hurts! I'm sick!" I feel his forehead.

"You're fine," I tell him.

"Nooooo! I'm sick! Take my temperature."

Which I dutifully do. And he's a lovely 98.4. Pie is standing there. "Shall we take your temperature, too, while I'm standing here?"

She agrees and I take her temperature. 102.5. I do a double take and take her and his temperature three more times, certain something is wrong with the thermometer. But no, she's sick. Just doesn't seem like it other than a cold.

So now I'm sitting on the couch as she overdoses on TV. We started with High School Musical: "The girl with the lipstick and the sparkly shirt, who's hanging with the boy? That's who I am. What's her name? Gabriella? That's who I am. I the character of her and the person of her [meaning Vanessa Hudgens]." Now we're on to Berenstain Bears. She's anxious to go out--because of course she's had no fever all morning--but I can't in these panic-y swine flu times take her anywhere where there might be children, so she's won the TV lottery for today. Given Pie's Law of Health, she'll be chipper and happy all day, till about 5 p.m. when her fever is guaranteed to return.

In the meantime, I can leave you with just a few of the things that have been keeping me away from the blog:

For the first time, we built a sukkah. We have our lovely remodeled house, with an ample backyard and a place to store the sukkah in the off-season. So it was time. "What size should we get?" Adam asked me.

I looked over the Sukkah Project web site. "I think we should get the easy snap together kind."

"That's ridiculous," I was told. "It has to be made with lumber. Or else you're just cheating. What size?"

"Um, 8 by 12 should be fine."

"No, too small."

"Okay, 12 by 10."

So what does he order? 12 by 16. We need a bigger table to fill it, but it was nice as we hosted Shabbat and two kid-oriented meals in the sukkah. I'd show you pictures of Adam and Doodles building the sukkah, but somehow I've misplaced all my September photos.

The rain finally took a long enough break to get to apple picking. We went nice and early on Columbus Day to beat the crowd. We arrive, and I go to buy the small bag to fill. "We'll fill that in no time. We need a bigger bag," Adam insists (are you seeing a theme here?). So we get the bigger bag. Only Pie loses interests and she and Adam wonder off leaving me to haul around a honking big heavy bag of apples that I still haven't used up.





Recognize that player in the blue fleece? I got so confused when I saw her out there, given that last year, that was the boy's fleece, so I kept thinking I was looking at him. But that girl really held her own and did just great. The boy is amazing, how much he's improved since last year. Poor Adam: Doodles made the advanced beginner's group, which meets from 8:50 to 9:30 and Pie is in the beginner's group, which meets from 9:50 to 10:30, so he gets to spend his entire morning at the rink, while I'm off running. That's what you get for saying, "Oh, hockey and the early, cold hours at the rink don't bother me."

And now, now it's time to be a Mom again. To change the channel and make princess soup for Pie and to bake my next apple creation: Spiced Caramel Apple Upside Down Cake. Perhaps I'll try to sneak in a bit of noveling today. You never now.

So, yes, I'm still here. At least for the time being.

Labels: adam, doodles, pie, writing

We've begun to conquer Pie's separation anxiety. First we tried sending her to school with a tape recorder that had a message from me. Then we tried a letter from me. She took a book with her. Next we tried her stuffed hippo. Then, finally, we found what works and has worked all week:

She brings her purse. And in her purse is a tissue. And a lipstick. And when she's feeling sad, she puts on a little lipstick on. And, voila! She feels better.

And, yes. She's four.

Oh. Dear. Lord. I'm out of my league here.

Labels: pie

We played Two Truths and a Lie at dinner tonight. We were having a nice dinner, as the day actually wasn't bad at all. For my turn:

Me: Today I saw M.'s mom at the YMCA when I went to workout; today I went to Starbucks to have coffee because no one made me any coffee at home; today I returned two SIGG bottles to Whole Foods.
Pie: SIGG bottles.
Adam: M's mom.
Doodles: Starbucks.

Starbucks was the logical answer, as Adam conveniently left early to go to the gym, but didn't set up the coffeemaker for me. And I don't make coffee. Just don't. Don't know why. Just don't.

Me: Doodles is right.
Pie: So you didn't have coffee at Starbucks?
Me: No.
Pie: Then where did you have your coffee?
Me: Nowhere. I didn't have any coffee today.
Doodles: Oooh! That's why you were cranky today!

Labels: doodles, pie

Adam's out of town, off on the Left Coast, so here I sit with my wine, my Project Runaway, and my slow-ass laptop. ("Where's your laptop?" I asked him on the phone. "My work laptop?" "No, your at-home laptop." "Yeah, my at-home work laptop. It's right here. With me. In San Francisco." We don't say, "A-hole" in our house, so I won't say it. But I might think it.)

We've been having a rocky few weeks here. Pie has been struck with terrible separation anxiety. It came out of nowhere and has hit with a vengeance. "Mommy, don't go running! Mommy, don't go to your meeting! Mommy, I don't care what you're doing; let me in that bathroom with you right now!" Taking her to school is downright painful. Doodles always started his school years with tears, but his response was "I don't want to go to school!" In those days, I was still working, so it was easy to say, "Sorry, kiddo, you gotta go. Mommy's on a deadline." But now that I'm not working, it's so hard to resist that little crying face. Although it's different with Pie. She says, "Mommy, I want to go to school; I just want you to stay with me!" The first few days were really tough for her but now it's a few minutes of crying, pleading, and grabbing onto me at the drop-off, but then she has a great day.

Today, though, we had a great start to the day. The kids were agreeable, dressing quickly, eating a nice breakfast, cleaning their rooms. A friend drove Pie to school, and she went willingly (and did have tears, but, bonus!, I wasn't there to see them). Lovely, lovely. I ran errands. Bought more books that no one needs, because I'm a total sucker for books. Got the boy a new lunchbox because at the beginning of the year I told him he couldn't have a new lunchbox or backpack because the ones from last year were still in good shape and we reuse, reuse, reuse! And then I smelled last year's lunchbox. Hence the new one he got today. Went to Sephora where they clearly saw "Easy Mark," which was apparently tattooed on my forehead (note to self: not a good idea to walk into Sephora and say, "Um, I know nothing about skin care or makeup. Can you make the spots on my face go away?")

After school, Pie had a playdate with a friend (actually a classmate of Doodles's with whom she gets along really well; my precocious preschool monkey hanging out with the first grade girls). To keep Doodles from interfering, I invited Tab over to play with him.

Tab and Doodles wanted to do some experiments. I was not up for experiments. I let them fill up a bowl of water. They put it on the kitchen counter and I had orders not to touch it. In a few minutes, they came back.

"Look!" Doodles said. "There's a bubble in it now!"

"Wow!" said Tab. "You know what that means?"

"It means that Camelbocher is coming!"

Yes, Camelbocher. At least that's what I heard. I have no idea what that means. I went about my own business. Pie and her friend ventured downstairs to join ranks with Doodles and Tab. Periodically they'd check the water, make exclamations, and then run back to the front porch.

So I decided to have some fun. While they were out on the front porch, I pulled out my food coloring. And I dropped in a bit of green. Back they came.

"It's green!!!" Doodles shouts.

"It's green?" Tab comes running in. "Do you know what that means?"

"It means Camelbocher is approaching with his armies!" By now Doodles is armed with his sword. "We need to wait!"

"Okay, but if it turns black, it means Voldemort is coming!" Tab says. At least that name I recognize.

And that's it! No, "How did that water turn green?" No, "Okay, that's weird." No, "Mom, what did you do?"

They checked the water a few more times. Still green. So the next they go out, I swap the green water for yellow.

Pie and her friend come in. "How did the water get to be yellow?" Pie asks. I shrug.

Doodle comes back. "It's yellow! It's yellow!"

Tab yells, "Voldemort is coming!"

"No!" Doodles yells, "It's Camelboch and his armies. They're coming from Florence Street!"

I make the water black next.

Meanwhile, Pie is starting to truly become scared. So I clue her in. "Look, Pie!" I swap the black water for purple water. "See?" She sees. She laughs. And then she is scared again. "What are you scared of?"

"Camelbocher's army is coming!"

"No, it's not!"

"It's true! The water turned purple so that's what it means!"

Finally after about two hours, Tab finally says, "How did that water change colors?"

Doodles starts with his theories. "There must be chemicals in the air and the water is reacting to them and it changes the color of the water."

"Maybe," Tab responds, "our magic spell really worked and it changed the color."

I'm having a hard time not laughing.

"I think there are chemicals in the bowl," Doodles says, "and that makes the color change."

By now I am laughing. Tab sees me. "Maybe your mom did something to the water?" she says suspiciously.

I give her a little nod.

Doodles says, "I think there are things in the bowl that react to the water."

I pat him on the arm and point to Tab. "What?" he says. I continue to point. "So let me tell you my theory! Chemicals around us are falling into the water and the stuff in the bowl--"

"What about Tab's theory?"

"But I'm giving my theory!"

"But Tab's theory is right."

"How do you know?" he asks.

I walk over and pick up my bag of food coloring. "Because I changed the color."

"Ohhhhhhh!" he finally says.

That's my boy. Full of theories. No facts necessary to back them up. I see an MBA in this boy's future!

And now? Now I finish my wine. I finish my Project Runway. I use my new bajillion dollar face cream. I curl up with the new book I bought for myself today. And prepare to start all over again tomorrow.

Labels: doodles, me, pie

Getting ready for bed, Doodles tried to pull down Pie's underwear.
Pie: Doodles! Stop that!
Doodles: Ha ha! I just saw your butt gutter!

In the timeless tradition of my father, we do Quiz Questions at dinner. Tonight:
Me: What's the next holiday coming up?
Pie: Yom Kippur!
Me: And what do the grown-ups do on Yom Kippur?
Pie: Um... fashion!

We occasionally give hints. Because sometimes the answers are off. The past few times, I've asked...
Me: Who's the vice president?
Doodles: Bill Clinton!
Me: No!
Pie: George Washington!
Me: No!
I give the hint every time, using the name of a local restaurant chain. So tonight when I asked, they wanted a hint.
Me: Who's the vice president.
Doodles: Give us a hint!
Me: No! We've done this too many times before. You shouldn't need a hint anymore.
Pie: I know! It's... Not Your Average Joe Biden!

Labels: doodles, pie

The end of summer comes later for our family than most--our school system has the arcane rule that school starts the Thursday after Labor Day (and the Monday after Labor Day for kindergartners). So this year, Labor Day was as late as it can possibly be, meaning the first day of school for Doodles was one week ago and Pie didn't start start till this past Monday. (well, really Tuesday--Monday was a split session day). I actually didn't mind having the kids home. Yes, they make me insane. But I can (generally) deal. But I hate our school's system because everyone else is done with school at the year end almost a full month earlier. Our last day of school for the coming year is June 23... if there are no snow days.

At the beginning of the summer, I made a long list with the family of things we were going to do over the summer. I was sad that much of the list didn't get accomplished. I wanted to go to Portland (Maine, that is). Pie wanted to go to an art museum. Doodles wanted to do science experiments. Adam had listed kayaking and napping in the backyard.

But there was a fair amount on the list that, when I think back, we did achieve. Between Memorial Day and Labor Day we:

**went letterboxing twice--Pie really enjoyed it and the kids designed and I made their own stamps. On our second time doing it (during our camping trip--more on that later), Pie was a real trooper, dealing with missing boxes, a mom who got her lost, mosquitoes, and finally finding the box as it was beginning to get dark out.

**visited a butterfly place. True, it wasn't the one Pie originally wanted, but we went to the butterfly garden at the Museum of Science and she was pretty happy about that. We made about three or four trips to the museum this summer.

**attended a science program (Doodles) and gymnastics camp (Pie). Doodles spent a week at Club Invention, one of the coolest camps ever. He got to take apart a machine to make a new one (he created the Stopinator 3000, a device for stopping Pie when she's about to attack him), make up a new superhero, and work with a team to make a land sled. Pie tumbled and trampled and tally-ho'd through two weeks of gymnastics camp.

**saw some tall ships.

**write a novel (me). I'm about 3/4s of the way done. All I need is for school to start to finish.

**turned a boy into a fish (the boy swims! the boy swims!).

**picked raspberries.

**visited Storyland.

**had our annual 4th of July party and rode in the 4th of July bike parade.

**attend a baseball game (the Red Sox for Doodles and Adam; the Pawsocks for the entire family).

**tried out--and loved--camping. We went with Jasmine's family for a single-night camping trip. Headed out to Harold Parker State Forest, which was perfect. Close, had swimming and fishing and hiking in the campground. Nice playground. Yes, a lot of rain, but I was able to completely overdose on roasted marshmallows, so really, it was fine. The only downer was that the boy's fishing was cut short. That and the fact that Pie and I were seriously covered from head to foot with mosquito bites. The two of us scratched for two solid weeks.

**swimming time at the Res and at the pools friends invited us to, ran some races (okay, just me, but I ran about six of them), had invention time with boxes and recycled materials, bike riding time in the street, playdates and games and books and general fun.

So that's it. Time to put summer to a close. The weather has turned distinctly fall like. On a walk this morning, Pie started picking up bright red leaves. I'm preparing for our Rosh Hashanah dinners and we've just received our Sukkot kit to build our very own sukkah for the first time.

Onward to fall. L'shana tova!

Labels: adam, doodles, me, pie

Pie: I'm going to get some water.

Grabs a cup from the drawer. Walks to the fridge. Sniffs. Turns around.

Pie: I need another cup. This cup smells like tushie.

She opens the drawer. Pulls out a different cup. And puts the tushie cup... back in the drawer.

Can I get you something to drink?

Labels: pie

Today is the day of the birthday parties: Doodles is going Mad Scientist; Pie is going Piggy Party.

Adam: What would you like from the bagel store?
Pie: I want a bagel with egg and bacon on the side. I need bacon because I'm having a piggy party!
Doodles: Bacon is made out of pig!
Pie: I know! So I need to eat bacon today! For my piggy party, I need to eat bacon!

I hope she's not disappointed when I don't serve bacon today at the actual party to her entirely Jewish guest list (she goes to a Jewish preschool).

Labels: birthday, pie

Tomorrow is the Day of the Birthdays. While both of their actual birthdays were two weeks/a week and a half ago, most of their friends return to town this weekend from Summer, so this weekend is the parties (our town is obscenely late in starting school; per Facebook, most of my friends' kids started going back to school a month ago. Doodles starts this coming Thursday; Pie the Monday after that).

Pie is obsessed. First there are the logistics. "I get to eat the face of the pig" (it's a piggy party). Um, it's a big face. And you have a little tummy. Well, not little. But littler than that face (side note: I expressed concern about both my kids BMI to the doc this week--in opposite directions. Doodles too underweight; Pie unsure about her weight. She told me that Doodles is actually quite height-weight proportionate--he's about 4th percentile for height and just under 10th for weight--and that Pie is fine. She said, and I quote, "I have never seen a breastfed child become obese." So yea child who could not be weaned!).

And then there's the "I don't want any six year olds at my party."
Me: That's fine. But then you can't go to Doodles's party.
Pie: [honestly bewildered] Why not?

And of course the fashion. For their birthdays, they each received T-shirts tied into their interests. Pie got one with pigs on it; Doodles got a mad scientist T-shirt.
Pie: Can I wear my kitty skirt tomorrow?
Me: You can wear whatever you want. But you'll be wearing your piggy shirt and hat?
Pie: Yes!
Me: A solid pink skirt might go best.
Pie: I want to wear the kitty skirt.
Me: That's fine, then.
Pie: It has pink in it so it'll go.
Me: That's great. Wear your kitty skirt.
Pie, thinking for a moment, then says: Well, maybe I'll wear the kitty skirt to Doodles's party and I'll wear a plain skirt to mine.
Me: The parties are on the same day.
Pie: I know.
Me: You're going to change outfits between parties?
Pie, giving me a "duh" look: Of course!

That girl is four years old. And I'm already soooo out of my league!

Labels: birthday, pie

Pie, to Jasmine: I can name three countries in America.
Jasmine: Yeah?
Pie: Yeah. Florida. New York. And, um, Afghanistan.

Labels: pie

Me: What's today?
Pie: My birthday!
Me: How old are you?
Pie: Four.
Me: That's pretty old. What can you do when you're four that you can't do when you're three.
Pie: I can stay up late.
Me: What else?
Pie: I can play.
Me: You couldn't do that when you were three?
Pie: I could! What couldn't I do when I was three? I couldn't go into kindergarten.
Me: Can you go in now that you're four?
Pie: No.
Me: What did you do today?
Pie: I went to gymnastics camp. I had lots of fun. I even got to be leader and sometimes I could be first. That's all.
Me: We didn't do anything after camp?
Pie: Went to the Res! And that's all.
Me: What's your favorite thing to do?
Pie: To play my Polly Pockets.
Me: What do you want to be when you grow up?
Pie: A mommy.
Me: Anything else you want to be?
Pie: That's all I want to be.
Me: Are you going to be a mommy who works?
Pie: Yeah. But I work out of the house.
Me: What kind of work will you do?
Pie: Housework.
Me: Outside of the house?
Pie: Inside the house.
Me: What work will you do outside of the house?
Pie: I will plant the garden. And water stuff. I can water dirt.
Me: Who's gonna make the money?
Pie: I will.
Me: How?
Pie: How will I make money is I'll find a money thing and then I'm going to call someone and ask if it's money and then I'll try getting it and then I'll get some money out of the printer. And that's all.
Me: You're all done with the interview?
Pie: Uh huh. Can you read me last year's one?
Me: Any grand pronouncements first?
Pie: What?
Me: Any big statements?
Pie: I want to be the biggest one in the whole universe of America.
Me: Happy Birthday, Sweetie Pie.

Labels: birthday, pie

Pie: Why do you have a stamp on you?
Me: It's not a stamp; it's called a tattoo. It doesn't come off like a stamp.
Pie: Can I have a tattoo?
Me: You have to be eighteen to get a tattoo. When you turn eighteen you can get one.
Pie: When I turn eighteen, will you take me to get a tattoo?
Me: Sure! I'd be happy to take you. What kind of tattoo will you get?
Pie: A flower. No, a piggy!
Me: Okay. A piggy it is.
Pie: How do you get a tattoo?
Me: They use a needle to make the picture.
Pie: They stick you with needles?
Me: Yep.
Pie: Oh. Maybe I won't get a tattoo.
Me: That's fine, too.

Labels: pie

Growing up, my father played Quiz Questions at dinner with me and my sister, although the game quickly became known as "Quiz Questions Me First!" because that's what we'd shout out as soon as he sat down. The questions would be current events or history or science or whatever, such as "Who discovered the theory of relativity" or "Count to ten in binary numbers." One of my mother's great pet peeves in life is that my father loved to ask us geography questions, but he never used a map or globe to show where he was asking about. To this day, the only reason I remember that the capital of Ecuador is Quito is because of "Quiz Questions Me First."

This weekend my parents were in town, and my father started discussing geography with the kids. Only we don't own a globe. We tend to use maps on the computer, but it doesn't give the kids a real sense of perspective on where things are. Yesterday morning, we took a trip to the Museum of Science before we brought my parents to the train station so they could head home. Lo and behold, my mom spotted in the gift shop a globe, which my father then purchased for the kids.

This morning, the kids were playing their own version of geography. Doodles would ask Pie a question and she's randomly spin the globe as fast as she could and point.

Doodles: I got one for you, Pie! Where's Israel?
Me: Can you find Israel?
Doodles, with a sigh: Yes, Mom!
Pie spins the globe with a quick jerk and then just sticks her finger out.
Doodles: No, Pie. That's South America. Where's Israel?
Pie spins again and points.
Doodles: Nope. That's Hawaii.
I look over. Sure enough Pie has her finger planted in the Pacific Ocean in the general vicinity of Hawaii.
Me: How do you know that's Hawaii?
Doodles: I just know!
I can't figure out if he knows where things are or if his reading has improved that much, but either way, who am I to complain?

Doodles eventually gives up--Pie clearly has no interest in playing his way--and Pie just continues to spin this apparently amazing top.

Pie: Mommy?
Me: Yes?
Pie: Is it going to glow?
Me: Glow.
Pie: Yeah, glow.
Me: Um, no. It doesn't glow.
Pie: Then why is it called a glow-b?

She'll do okay, even if she doesn't know where Israel is.

Labels: doodles, my family, pie

Once upon a time, or so the story goes, because I have a horrific memory and this is my dad's story that I'm relating... Anyway, once upon a time, my mom cooked us all breakfast. According to my father, they were fabulous breakfasts. Some days it was scrambled eggs. Some days it was French toast. But every morning, before school and work, my mother cooked us breakfast. But, my father loves to tell me, I ruined it. Because I was never happy with what was served. If it was French toast, I wanted scrambled eggs. If it was scrambled eggs, I wanted fried eggs. If it was fried eggs, I wanted French toast. So one day, my mother had enough. And she declared, "I'm not cooking breakfast for you people anymore." Which is why, to this day, my father resents me for him losing his breakfasts. And he likes to remind me of this. Frequently.

I will now shift topics, but rest assured, I will tie it all together at the end. I always tie it all together at the end. Don't I?

A few years ago, I wanted to learn how to sew, so my grandmother gave me one of her sewing machines. My grandmother was an incredible seamstress--she sewed her clothes, her curtains, her everything. My parents got married on a week's notice. My grandmother bought a size 12 white cocktail dress from Neiman Marcus and sewed it to size for my size 2 mother in literally days (and as I know the definition of literal, you can know that I mean that). My grandmother dutifully taught my mother how to sew. I have plenty of pictures of me in adorable little dresses that my mother sewed. Granted, she sewed out of necessity--another thing my parents frequently like to remind me, they had little money in those days and sewing my clothes was the only way to keep me clothed. But she did sew some awfully cute things. Fast-forward thirty-some-odd years later, my mother and grandmother still have their sewing mojo and the two of them collaborated on sewing the huppah for my and Adam's wedding.

Now, as expert seamstresses, you'd think some of that might have rubbed off on me. It didn't. In my defense, I'm pretty sure no one ever taught me. It's possible my mother may have offered to teach me to sew, but I have no recollection of it. She taught me to crochet. She offered--on multiple occasions--to teach me to weld, solder, and use a band saw. I declined. But that's a story for my therapist, not for you. Point is, no one ever taught me to sew.

Here I am. A grown woman with a little girl, a not-quite-so-little boy, and a sewing machine. I've got a manual. I've got a box of spare needles, empty bobbins, and... well, stuff. And I have no idea how to use any of it. I've got this fairly sophisticated machine and I can--almost--sew a straight line with it. But I've got this crafty streak that wants to be able to use the machine. I have this not-at-all secret side of me that longs to be Martha Stewart. I'm a stay-at-home mom. I'm working on my novel (yes, yes, I am!). But I have lots of time when children are occupied, but not so occupied that I can do anything that requires total focus (like writing). For instance, when a playdate is over, and I am summoned approximately every 14.7 minutes. A good time for sewing.

A bunch of weeks ago, I went with the kids to Jo-Ann's Fabrics. I was going to sew. With the help of the Internet, damn it, I was going to sew. I let the kids go wild. The boy wanted a cape. The girl wanted headbands. I thought I might, just might, try my hand at a skirt.

And then we saw it. The dress. It was on a mannequin and the girl just swooned over it. "Mommy! I love that dress. That dress is beautiful!" Next to the dress is a free pattern. "Easy" it reads. "Simple" it promises. So I look at the girls face. And I look at the pattern. And I sigh and say okay. The girl and I choose our fabric. We choose our ribbon. And I promise that eventually I will put it all together.

Over the course of the next few weeks, I sew a few capes (complete with the Air Force fabric that I couldn't talk the boy out of). I make a headband that is worn for five seconds before the girl declares she can't stand it. I start working on a few projects for upcoming birthday parties.

The fabric for the dress sits. It's in my office. And every few days, Pie wanders in and says, "When are you going to make my dress? I want my dress. Can you make my dress, pllllleeeeeaaassssse?"

One day this week, Jasmine and Pie are playing. Playdates for Pie of late have been iffy--we're in the midst of a full season of perfect temper tantrum storms these days. They emerge from nowhere, build to awe-inspiring fury, and then spend themselves, leaving only a helpless wrath of destruction. Therefore, a playdate is no longer free and easy time. It's on-call time on a new level. No writing, No reading. Nothing that requires substantial concentration or my leaving the general three-room vicinity.

Hey, how about sewing? I can sew! So, I start sewing. Have I mentioned that I'm not a sewer? So "Easy" and "Simple" are "Laborious" and "Tricky." And I had to stop every few minutes to run into Pie's room to fix a toy, find a purse, or answer a question. Luckily no change in weather patterns, so it was a relatively calm afternoon. And an afternoon later, I'm just about done. Even with a matching headband. Yeah, the seams don't quite line up. Okay, so maybe the double hem wasn't exactly intentional but the only way to keep the bottom from falling down. Maybe, it's a bit big. It'll fit perfectly next summer. Or at least the summer after that. I have the girl put it on so I can mark where the ribbon ties go.

"Where's the ribbon?" she asks.

"Right here," I say, showing her the green ribbon we picked out. Together. The two of us. Me and Pie.

"No!! That's the wrong ribbon! I want flip-flop ribbon! I want ribbon with flip flops on it! Where's the flip-flop ribbon? I don't want green ribbon! That's the wrong ribbon!" And the tears ensue....

All right. Thirty-three years later. I admit it. I should have just shut-up and eaten the French toast. Sorry, Mom.

Labels: me, my family, pie

I'm putting Doodles to sleep in his room. We're about two-thirds of the way through Harry Potter. Adam is putting Pie to bed--in our room, of course. The rooms are, oh, twenty feet away from each other. Pie, the delicate flower that she is, let's one rip.

Pie: Oooh, stinky!
Adam: That's what happens when you toot. What do you say?
Pie: It wasn't me. It was Doodles.
Adam: No, it wasn't. It was you. Say "Excuse me."
Pie: It was Doodles.

I think she's training for a career in politics.

Labels: doodles, pie

After her epic temper tantrum, Adam and Pie had a little heart-to-heart.

Adam: I hear you had a rough day.
Pie: Yeah.
Adam: What happened?
Pie: I didn't go to ballet.
Adam: How come?
Pie: Because I had a temper tantrum.
Adam: Uh huh.
Pie: And I didn't get to go to Doodles's family night because I had a temper tantrum.
Adam: That's right. How come you didn't have a temper tantrum when you were at Beetle's house?
Pie: Dad! [please hear the "duh" in her voice] We don't have tempter tantrums at other people's houses!

Labels: pie

Ah. The end of one of those days. You know, those days. Those days when all you can do is say, "It's 8:20 p.m. and both my children are still alive." It may not sound like much of an achievement, but it's all I've got today, and I'm pretty darn pleased. Because the little one came this close to being throttled. By her own mother.

The day started well enough--I had a pleasant run with a friend. I felt good. Ready to tackle my novel. Got home. Took a shower. I had a teeny tiny, itty bitty little blood blister on the very tip of my nose. Got out of the shower and it was bleeding. I know, exciting stuff. Except that it wouldn't stop and I had to put a band-aid on it. On the tip of my nose. To wear all day. On my nose. The tip of it. A band-aid. And when I told Adam, "Must be cancer," all I got was, "Must be a blood blister." He has this crazy idea: "If you hear hooves, think horses, not zebras." Which is wrong. When you hear hooves, think cancer.

But this is not about my hypochondria. This is about keeping my children alive. Which I did! Even though my daughter did everything she could to push me. I picked her up from camp with a plan. We'd hit the farmers' market. Then over to ballet class. Then a quick trip home to put together the food from the farmers' market to take to a picnic at Doodles's camp's family night.

Ah, a plan? Did I say a plan? Ha! Pie decided she wanted to show me how she can use the monkey bars, so I figured we could do that and still squeeze in a trip to the market. Pie showed me. Her ability on the monkey bars? She can place her hands on two bars and then drop. Whoo hoo! A few friends were on the playground, so she wanted to stay. Fine. She can stay. We can make it a very fast trip to the market after ballet class.

When it's time to leave, I get the first hint of Pie's evil twin, Tart. The clingy, whiny Tart. We head to ballet class. Now, this girl loves ballet. Lives for ballet. But suddenly we arrive at ballet, and she doesn't want to go. Well, not exactly. She doesn't leave the car, but doesn't say she wants to go home. In fact, when asked, she claims she does want to go ballet. I get her into the class, only she refuses to go in. Fine. We'll leave. But she doesn't want to leave. Won't stay, won't go. My voice is getting that edgy anger us moms get when we're furious in a public place. I really don't care if she does ballet or not, but I'm not going to sit in the waiting area with her while the class is going on. So we leave. And we drive two blocks when she announces she really does want to go to class. So I pull over. I get her out. And, yes, I'm angry. And I walk her back to class. We don't even make it through the front door when she's pulling me back to the car. So we get into the car. And ten minutes later, she starts screaming, "I want to go to ballet! I want to go to ballet! Turnaround! Turn the car around! I want to go to ballet!" And of course, we're all done with ballet. But not with the screaming. The screaming lasts for a full hour.

So we go home. And thank goodness for Beetle, because I called her up and told her she needed to take my child before I left her on a street corner in a box with a note that reads, "Free to a Good, Decent, Clean Any Home."

And damn, if Beetle didn't walk in to find my daughter on the floor screaming. And within seconds, Tart/Pie was up and acting like her charming self. "Today I made a fish bank! And look, here's my sand castle. I glued and put sand on. Mommy, made blueberry cereal bars. Do you want one?" A different child. So with the child safely ensconced with Beetle, I headed solo down to family night. With no farmers' market goodies. I searched the house for dairy goodies (Jewish camp--no meat allowed), and I ended up with lots of veggies and quesadillas made with American cheese. Mmmm!

On the highway. I leave at 3:45, which is cutting it a little close for the 4:15 start, but I shouldn't be too bad. Except for the traffic. Which is bad. So very, very bad. So bad that I finally arrive at the camp at 5:17. Luckily, Adam got there about twenty minutes earlier, and of course lots of folks got caught in the traffic. The family night was great and Doodles really belted out the camp songs during the performance. I even forgot for a second that I have a huge band-aid right on the tip of my nose.

And then we get home. Pie is happy to see us, excited because Beetle gave her some hand-me-downs from Tab. Can you count to five? Quickly? Because that's how long it took for Tart to return. And she went down screaming. And then giggling. And now screaming again.

Me: What was up with your behavior today?
Pie: I was tired. It's because I don't take naps anymore. [She hasn't taken a nap in well over eighteen months]
Me: Oh?
Pie: Yes, I should take naps again. I need to take naps
Me: Okay, I'll cancel your playdate tomorrow so you can come home and take a nap.
Pie: Noooooo! I don't need a nap!

I repeat. It's 8:20. My children are alive. Give me a freakin' medal.

Labels: doodles, meltdowns, pie

While it wouldn't be quite accurate to say summer has arrived to New England, we do finally have a day decent enough to sit outside. I'd be happy if it were a tad warmer--lower 70s would be perfect--but it's not raining at the moment and I'm happy to simply accept that. Our yard is finally in, and while the backyard is not-yet-suitable for walking upon, well, we're walking upon it anyway. We put down grass seed in the back and all this rain has washed a third of it away and the birds have gotten the another third. So our backyard currently looks like a failed Chia Pet. Lovely. I do appreciate the fact that the wireless connects in the backyard so I can play on the computer while Pie plays with her friend. The front we used sod on, which kind of depresses me, because it is the ultimate in suburban lawns. However we've got a lovely planting plan that will transform it into something romantic and inviting--we just need to wait till the coffers are refilled enough to afford all those romantic and inviting plants.

But summer it apparently is, and we had a lovely 4th of July and now both kids are at camp. I had a hard time sending Doodles to camp, putting him on a bus to be carted off with all these children who were about twice his size to go off to swimming and boating and ropes and T-ball on his own. Pie is at her preschool camp and she, in her spunky way, "LOVES IT!" while Doodles in his typical more subdued way "kinda likes" camp, but definitely enjoys it more than he would staying home. And me? Me, I've got a three and a half hour stretch in front of me every day. And while I am doing a bit of puttering and cleaning--finally getting the clothes Pie has grown out of out of the house, doing the grocery shopping and baking cookies for friends with a new baby--I am also working on the novel. I'm getting in a good hour a day of decent writing time. It's one of those things that I have a hard time starting, but once I get started, I have a hard time stopping. I find my thoughts frequently drift back to my characters and I'm trying to take notes at odd times so I don't forget ideas. It feels good to get back into a writing routine again. I've got three more weeks of kids' camp (maybe more!) so I hope to really get a solid portion under my belt. (I'd like to write "under my typewriter ribbon" but it's been too long since I've used one of those... Maybe "under my web camera"? as that's what's atop my computer.) I make myself a pot of tea (because, yes, it's been that chilly), sit at my computer, attempt to ignore Facebook and Twitter, and plug away. My novel readers are awesome and have been giving me great feedback, which I'm working hard to incorporate. Writing is a lot like exercise--when you're not doing it, you can't imagine doing so. But once you start, you simply can't stop.

So yes, the blog posts may be a bit more infrequent. But that's only because there's other writing to be done. Because it's summer time. And the writing is easy.

Labels: doodles, house, pie, writing