the pieces of my life

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….

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.”

We all react to the snow in different ways. While a Sunday snow day is not a terrible thing, I was a bit disappointed because I had been looking forward to a few weekend activities that had to be reshuffled. The Tweedle Twirp was going to come visit, but that got canceled, which also means we were no shows at our monthly game night last night since we were suddenly babysitter-less. Doodles had a cub scout event today that I thought was going to be fun and interesting.

But my kids? My kids are thrilled. Doodles spent the entire day in his pajamas, playing with new Hanukkah presents. When I went out to shovel, Pie eagerly came along, and did “modern dance in the snow.” She shoveled for a minute or two with me, and then promptly went across the street to help Tab shovel her walk.

Me, I’ve used the day to write about a zillion holiday cards (and yet, I’m still not done!). My apologies to those whose last names begin after the letter L; my handwriting completely deteriorated by that point. I also packaged the last of the boxes to be mailed and doing a little last holiday baking (well, not quite last, but I can dream). I also decided to take down the Hanukkah decorations. A little odd, considering most of the country is still putting up their decorations, but our holiday is over and I never like those things to linger. I left up all the lights and holiday cards, but the menorahs, the dreidel pictures, the Little People Hanukkah toy, the menorah tidbit tray, and all the little Hanukkah knickknacks returned to that great storage in the attic. The kids have spent the entire afternoon glued to the TV, which once in a while, is fine by me (Doodles said, “It’s like when we have a fever and we can watch all we want!”). Yesterday was a hectic day–hockey and then to a friends to make ornaments for her tree and then my in-laws came to celebrate Hanukkah with us. So a rest day is well deserved.

Santa was at hockey, and both my kids wanted to meet him. Santa made chit chat with Doodles first. Asked if he’d been a good boy. If he’ll keep being a good boy. Told him that he (Santa) also ice skated up at the North Pole. And then he asked Doodles what he wanted for Christmas. Doodles merely said, “We don’t celebrate Christmas.” No elaboration. I think he threw Santa for a loop, but Santa finally realized what was going on and said, “That’s fine!” By the time Pie got off the ice to meet him, Santa was a little more prepared for her response.

The one unfortunate about the snow is that it cleared up enough for Adam to be able to get out to head to the airport. He’s off to London for a few days, which always makes me sad. Hanukkah over; the short, dark days; the oppression of the snow; Adam’s trip overseas–this time of year always conspires to make me blue.

But soon enough it will be Christmas, which is a very special day in our house, because that is the day that Santa brings us sun. One of the best parts of being Jewish is being able to fly out on Christmas day for warmer climes.

So now, I just need to plug through the next few days. The light at the end of the tunnel is spa day. I just need to focus on spa day…. Ahhhhh….

You know those days when everything runs so smoothly and perfectly, and things just get themselves done? Yeah, I’m not having one of those days, either. I’ve been having the kind of days where I manage to squeeze in a hair appointment before next week’s trip (Pie was kind enough to say, “Mommy, show me your gray! Yep! There it is!”) only to leave my earrings behind. To call the Pie’s school frantically because I sent in a peanut butter sandwich but forgot to label it (they segregate the kids with peanut allergies from the kids who bring in peanut butter). I left a message but called back to make sure they got it… only to be told that I had labeled the lunch. I went to three stores looking for wooden swizzle sticks for treats I was making, only to abandon that. I fought my son on homework–our teacher conference last week determined that the boy can do schoolwork (and quite well); he just chooses not to. I fought my daughter on… well, just about everything. The whine is back.

On a side note, Pie and I are watching Eloise at Christmastime. That poor girl is going to be in serious therapy over separation anxiety!

Anyway, today was one of those days when Pie and Jasmine had a playdate that not only gave me no free time, but left me threatening to end the playdate if they couldn’t get along. At Pie’s dance class, I was stuck listening to these, these… well, let’s just call them Mothers and leave it at that. They had a conversation about cleaning uncircumcised p*enises (and yes, they’re husbands are also uncircumcised!) and other lovely crunchy topics. And then another mother came in with a Happy Meal toy she’d found in her car. Her two girls were playing with it and one asked, “What is it?” The mom responded, “Hmm, I don’t know. It’s really a boy’s toy. Why don’t we give this to a boy we know?” Grrrrrrr.

I still have dinner to cook. I still have packages to mail. I still have treats to make and crafts to finish. There’s no point to this post, really. I just felt like bitchin’. Too bad for you.

If you’re wondering where your holiday card is, it’s right here because I’m supposed to be writing them right now, but instead, here I am on my blog. Oh well! I’m not excited about this year’s cards because Adam was in charge of proofreading and I should know better than to let an MBA proofread; MBAs think “attriting” is a real word and that they can “talk around issues.” So, yes, there’s a typo on the card and it’s way too late for me to put in an asterisks that reads, “Proofread by Adam.”

Life has felt busy lately so I’m just now starting on my holiday baking and I have to say, I’m most excited by the– Oops! I think some of the people I give my goodies to are reading this blog so I won’t spill this year’s concoctions.

Hanukkah so far has been fun, but it’s a bit overwhelming for the kids who have too much sugar, not enough sleep, and total present overload. I’ve made and eaten more latkes than anyone has a right to. I made them Friday in Doodles’s class, Friday night for our Hanukkah/Shabbat dinner, Sunday for our annual Hanukkah party, and Monday in Pie’s class. I’m oozing oil out of my pores and it’s downright gross. I’m actually craving vegetables. Of course, as the family cook, I could make vegetables, but that seems like actual work so I’ll stick with the oily foods for now. And the sugar. Can’t forget the sugar.

My holiday shopping has been done for a while now, except that my local B. Dalton’s is going out of business so I’ve spent two days now scouring its racks for 40% off books (plus my B&N; membership discount). I’ve got presents for the kids for the next three years (seriously–Beetle was in the store with me, and as her kids are 6 and 9, she showed me books Doodles and Pie will like in a couple of years).

I’m off now to get my son, then my daughter, and then off for a coveted H1N1 flu shot for the little one (the big one got his in school). And if I were you, I’d be seriously hoping your one my goodie list. Because these things look pretty good!

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!

Me: Did you do anything for Hanukkah at Hebrew school?
Doodles: Yeah. We played Hanukkah bingo.
Me: That sounds fun!
D: No, it wasn't it was really boring.
Me: Doodles, you are so negative all the time! You're the biggest Negative Nelly I've ever met!
D: Mom, you're going to live with me a long time. You gotta get used to it.

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.

First in…

First out…