Wonky Bloggy

April 27th, 2010 § Comments Off on Wonky Bloggy § permalink

After not a lot of soul searching and really very little thought, I suppose I might as well migrate this blog over and keep it alive for at least the near future. So this blog may be unavailable for a bit, because I’ve got to move it to a blogspot account, then move it to a hosted WordPress account, and then migrate over to my own WordPress. And if you know anything about me you understood that you were to read that as “Adam has got to move it to a…” But the short version is this site may be wonky for a bit. But it’ll happen soon, as the big flashing message I get on Blogger is telling me I have till Saturday to get my ass out of Blogger.

I’d post some pictures in the meantime to amuse you, as we had a very busy, very amusing week last week, but I just migrated over to a new (Mac!) computer, and I have no idea how it works. Meaning I send the pictures into my computer, but I don’t know how to get them back out. Hopefully that too will be fixed by Saturday.

So, bye bye Blogger. I’ll see all of you on the other side in WordPress.

Allergy-Free Post

April 14th, 2010 § 1 comment § permalink

My father, Peter, likes to complain that I don’t post enough but considering that 1) I don’t see him offering to come up and relieve me of some of my responsibilities (babysitters are always welcome!) and 2) where are his blog posts? I say to him a big fat thpppppp.

Today was one of those days when my greatest achievement was not killing my children. I have officially turned them over to Adam and I’m sitting her drinking my chardonnay, too lazy to get up and turn off the Miley Cyrus, which means tomorrow “Party in the U.S.A.” will torture me on my morning run.

Not related to my children’s monster meltdowns: After school today, I was sitting outside with my neighbor Beetle while Tab and Doodles played in their “clubhouse,” aka the bushes outside Tab’s house.

“So,” Beetle said. “Doodles has to wear all green tomorrow to school?”

“What?”

“He has to wear all green tomorrow for school.”

“For his play?”

“I don’t know.”

I yell to Doodles, “Hey, Doodles! Get out here!”

He lumbers out. I ask, “Why does Beetle know you have to wear green tomorrow, but I don’t?”

I get the mother of all “duh” looks. “Because I told her!”

Of course. Tomorrow all the first graders in the school are celebrating an African festival. There will be a play. My son will be playing the Boa Constrictor. There will be music on drums they made themselves. There will be a feast. Provided by the parents.

Another parent and I were assigned to make Benne Cakes. Of course, allergy-free Benne Cakes with Ener-G Egg Replacer, which I’ve never had much luck with. She starts first. I get a call. “These things are absolutely flat. Completely unusable.” In my cocky Martha-Stewart way, I assured her that I’d make mine and let her know how they were, fully confident that they’d be great. I made them. They’re flat. Completely unusable. And dark. And weird looking.

So I do a little Web research on Benne Cakes. Only to discover that benne means… sesame seed. Which we aren’t using. Because of allergies. So these things I’m making? My African Benne Cakes aren’t African and aren’t cakes. Yum!

Now I get to stay up late making more non-African, non-Benne, non-cakes. Lucky me!

So, Peter. You were saying?

From the Mouths of Babes

April 8th, 2010 § Comments Off on From the Mouths of Babes § permalink

Today in the car:

Doodles: Mom, I think the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus are related.
Me: Well, yeah. They’re both Christian.
D: Yeah, I know.
Me: You don’t tell people that they’re not real, do you?
D: No.
Me: Good.
D: Although…
Me: Yes?
D: I think the Easter Bunny is real.
Me: Really?
D: Yeah.
Me: Well, why didn’t the Easter Bunny bring you anything?
D: Because we’re not Christian.
Me: But you still think it’s real?
D: Yeah.
Me: Um. Okay. What about Santa?
D: He’s not real.
Me: All right.
D: You know, I think that maybe the Easter Bunny is Santa’s pet bunny.
Me: Wait.
D: Yeah?
Me: If Santa isn’t real, how can he have a pet bunny?
D: Well, maybe Santa is a spirit and the spirit of Santa has a bunny.
Me: Oh. Hey!
D: What?
Me: How is it that you can believe in the spirit of Santa but you can’t believe in God?
D: I’m just weird like that.

State of the Union

April 7th, 2010 § Comments Off on State of the Union § permalink

Dear Readers. Having fun. Wish you were here. Love, Jenny

No seriously, I know I haven’t been posting as much lately. It’s just with the beautiful weather and the holiday and all the other good stuff, I’ve been out doing instead of home computering. I need to do some construction on this site (and by “me,” I mean “Adam” and by “construction” I mean, “I have no idea what I mean”). For the past 8 1/2 years (gasp!) that I’ve kept this blog, I’ve FTP’d it to Blogger. No biggie. Although they’re now doing away with FTP support, which means… well, something. Apparently my main choice is to go to WordPress, if I want to keep my own domain, and it’s these gorgeous, beautiful weeks that make me wonder if I really will. Maybe it’s time to let the blog die a natural death before my son, who can now read everything I write figures out what I’m up to and starts to protest his innermost quirks being broadcast to the world at large. Something to think about…

Anywhos… What have I been busy with? Well, there’s Pesach (and I love how every time Pie says, “Pesach,” to my father, she quickly adds, “That’s Passover,” as if my father has no idea what Pesach is. Which he does. And he doesn’t. So she’s not completely off). We hosted a seder for 18, which was lovely, but a little busy. As she’s at a Jewish preschool, Pie had off last Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday for the holiday. And then Doodles had off Friday for Good Friday (and I tried explaining Good Friday and Easter to him, but boy did I mangle it. I tried to end on a joke–“Do you know, Doodles, how we’ll know who’s right?” “How?” “Well, when the Messiah comes, if he says, ‘Nice to meet you,’ we’ll know that we [the Jews] were right. If he says, ‘Hi. Good to see you again,’ we’ll know the Christians had it right.”–but somehow that only made it more confusing). And then Pie had off again this past Monday and Tuesday for the end of Passover. And yet I survived. Did I mention that Adam’s in London? Still surviving. And having fun.

So first night seder was at our house. We did seder bingo. Kids did the four questions beautifully. Ate too many desserts. Done by about 8. The second night we had seder at our rabbi’s house. Now that’s a seder. The kids loved it, although Pie petered out at 8:30. Doodles and I made it till the midnight end and he was enthralled by it. So the next day I let him play hooky, and Doodles, Pie, and I went to see the Egypt Tomb 10A exhibit at the MFA. (Get it? It was Passover? So we went to see about Egypt? Clever, no?)

I had to fit all of my week into Thursday and then on Friday, Doodles and I rode bikes, went to see How to Train Your Dragon, and then hung out outside. It was truly a perfect day.

The beginning of this week, Pie wanted playdates so I used the time to clean. I mean really clean. I finally got my office organized, and over the weekend, Adam had built these lovely shelves in our closet’s closet (yes, you read that right: our closet has a closet), so I moved all our CDs in there and then repurposed the original shelves in my office and the house is so lovely and beautiful! The house was fully cleaned today and I feel this urge to put police tape all over the door and make a huge sign that reads, “No Medroses Allowed” because the instant one of them comes in this house, there goes all my beautiful clean house. Sigh.

There’s more I’ve done. And more going on. But I don’t feel like writing about it. Children want to be let in. So I need to go guard my beautiful house. Because I can see the gleam in their eyes. The gleam of destruction. Sigh.

The Fashionista

April 1st, 2010 § 1 comment § permalink

Today is Red Sox day in the boy’s classroom. Yet he said to me, “I have nothing to wear.”

I pointed out the spread of shirts from which he had to choose. An Ortiz. A Pedroia. A Matsuzaka. Even a Garciaparra . Plus two with no names on them at all.

“I only want to wear Varitek.”

To which Adam cringes. Because apparently Varitek sucks. And is on his way out. (As I would not know or care about these things.)

The boy is locked in his room at the moment. We all wait with baited breath, to see what he’s going to wear today….

It Was 70 Years Ago Today…

March 29th, 2010 § Comments Off on It Was 70 Years Ago Today… § permalink

Imagining a parent as a child is hard to do. My parents were pretty young when I was born–22 for my mom; 27 for my dad. But they always seemed old to me. I was recently watching with my kids a video from 1974 and it’s shocking that my parents were actually, truly young. In 1974, my father was seven years younger than I am now. When I was the age he was in 1974, I was a newlywed, no kids. He had two kids, a mortgage, college savings accounts, and an ugly car (really–I don’t know what that car was in the video, but it was ugly! For some reason “Cougar” comes to mind. Was that the car?). I knew him when he was 34. I remember when I was a teen, he once said to me, “You know, I may be in my forties, but I still feel like I’m sixteen.” I didn’t get it then, but I get it now.

Lately, though, I feel like I’ve had a sense of my father as a kid. Because I look at Doodles and I can suddenly picture my father. In his insolence, in his single-mindedness, in his stubbornness, in his antsy energy, I can see my father, and it’s eerie.

My dad turns seventy today. We all know that I don’t get mushy on this blog–it’s just not my thing–but if I were ever going to get mushy, it would be here. ‘Cause, you know. He’s my dad. And I love him.

Happy birthday, Peter!

Fish Heads, Fish Heads, Rolly Polly Fish Heads

March 28th, 2010 § Comments Off on Fish Heads, Fish Heads, Rolly Polly Fish Heads § permalink


It’s the saga of the fish. Who knew fish would give me such headaches. Tomorrow night is the first night of Passover, and I’m hosting, as I like to do. Out of all the Jewish holidays, Passover is my favorite. I love the story, I love the Seder, I love the food. Doodles, even, is incredibly into it. He came home from Hebrew school today, saying it he loved class today because he learned the fourth question and he got to take home his own Haggadah. He’s been practicing the four questions and can’t get enough of listening to our Passover c.d.

I’ve been cooking up a storm. So far I’ve made: horseradish, Moroccan carrots, Sephardic salad, orange cake, Passover brownies, meringues, candied walnuts (for the haroset), chicken soup, and salmon pate. Tomorrow I make the potato latke “muffins,” scarlet chicken, balsamic roasted veggies, and matzah crunch.

But the fish. The fish has plagued me (the famous eleventh plague). I need whitefish, carp, and pike. Basic gefilte fish ingredients. I heard on one of my e-mail lists that the Newton Whole Foods would grind fish for you. So I called it last week. “I hear you grind fish!”

“Yeah,” the guys said. “We can grind fish. But we’re out of fish.”

“Huh?”

“Out of fish. Completely out of fish.”

“How are you out of fish?”

“Out of fish. Try next year.”

I called all around. Tried everywhere. A different Whole Foods assured me that they could order me whitefish. Yea, whitefish! Except he called back the next day. “I called everywhere! No gefilte fish fish!”

Frantic web searches came up with a single recipe that called for tilapia. So I decided to make my fish (a fish loaf from the New York Times Passover cookbook) with tilapia. And I bought the jarred stuff. As a back up.

For some, it’s next year in Jerusalem. For me, it’s next year in whitefish. Chag Pesach Sameach.

Fast Food Fun

March 24th, 2010 § Comments Off on Fast Food Fun § permalink

The boy and I start watching Food, Inc.. It begins by talking about how fast food has changed the way food is produced in this country. We’re not three minutes into it before the boy says, “Mom?”

“Yes?” I reply.

“For my next birthday, can we go to McDonald’s?”

“Just keep watching…” I tell him.

We get to the part where they discuss how much corn is in the food we eat.

Me: Do you like corn?

Doodles: No!

Me: Do you know how much corn is in the food you eat?

Doodles: Oh, about 50 gallons!

We got about twenty minutes in when I forced him to bed. We can only watch after Pie has gone to bed, but I refuse to let him stay up that late. I’m sure I’ll regret letting him watch it, but I want him to know where his hot dogs are coming from.

This could be interesting….

Dear Diary

March 22nd, 2010 § 1 comment § permalink

Report cards came out last Friday and my son is brilliant. Brilliant, of course being a subjective mom’s interpretation of grades that run all over the place. Our town has this incomprehensible grading system of B, P, M, and E. B=beginning a skill, P=progressing on a skill, M=meeting expectations, E=exceeding expectations. Doodles had a healthy mix of Ps, Ms, and Es. Brilliant, right?

Anyway, I didn’t need a report card to tell me that the area Doodles needs to work the most in is his writing. But of course writing is the subject he likes least and the one he is most reluctant to practice.

Except on Friday, I had a brainstorm. A genius idea! I dug into the attic and found, from 1976 to 1978, my diary. With Strawberry Shortcake on the cover and a lock on the outside. And I read Doodles a few pages. The one that made him the happiest was this one:

(And I cringe reading this. How, at the ripe old age of 9 1/2, did I not know the difference between “loose” and “lose”? I blame my parents.)

Doodles needed a diary. Can I tell you how hard it is to find a locking diary that isn’t adorned in Hello Kitty or flowers or fairies? I thought I found a really cool one, but the price was, um, off putting. But I did find one that wasn’t great, but wasn’t “girly.”

The boy is addicted. Every few hours he jumps up and yells, “I need to go write something in my diary!” I’m dying to peer into his journal, but I respect his privacy. And, the fact is, I really don’t care what he writes. I just care how he writes. I want to know he’s spelling because and not becos, that he’s using capitals at the beginning of the sentence and punctuation at the end. I do, at least, know he’s writing neatly. As he sat down, I reminded him, “Now, you need to write well enough that your grown-up self will be able to read your handwriting,” and as I saw him go, he was making beautiful well-formed letters. So that’s half the battle. I plan on going at some point today to buy him a copy of Harriet the Spy. I think that will help to fan the flames.

And who knows? In thirty-five years, perhaps in his blog, he’ll scan in a page from his diary to show what he was up to as a kid. I just hope he spells “lose,” right.

Furniture Shopping

March 21st, 2010 § 1 comment § permalink

I always walk into the Container Store thinking, “This is going to change my life!” and then I walk out the same old me but with one under-the-bed container for wrapping paper, and it’s just so sad.

I hate shopping. Have I mentioned that before? I just hate shopping.

We’ve been in the “new” house for just over a year now. The front room needs a chair and a reading lamp. Right now it has a computer and some Flor tiles. I even hired a decorator last year. She told me I needed a chair and a reading lamp. So we’re all in agreement.

Last March, Adam and I spent a day going to Crate and Barrel and Arhaus looking for a chair and a reading lamp. We didn’t find what we wanted. We said we’d look again. We didn’t.

Now it’s March again. Adam got his yearly bonus last week. So we decided it was time to buy that chair and lamp. Adam’s parents came over and Adam and I headed for our yearly date to the store. We went to Jordan’s. We went back to Crate and Barrel. We did not buy a chair. Adam was game to try more stores, but those two had already tested my shopping limits. I get in the stores. The chairs all look basically the same. I don’t like the way they look. Or I do like the way they look but they’re uncomfortable. The music is thumping. People have glazed eyes. Kids (and the worst kind of kids–other people’s kids!) are screaming. I. Must. Get. Out.

Shopping sucks. Which means the front room is going to stay empty. At least until next March. Next March? I’m sure we’ll actually get something then. Yeah. Definitely.

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  • Who I Am

    I read, I write, I occasionally look to make sure my kids aren't playing with matches.

    My novel, MODERN GIRLS will be coming out from NAL in the spring of 2016.

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