Monthly Archives: December 2007

Another little something for Xmas

I chose this one over the live performances because the sight of a sloshed Shane McGowan sucks ass in my opinion, and I strongly recommend you do what I do whenever I hear this song – just close your eyes and enjoy.

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Christmas, Merry

I don’t celebrate Christmas. Didn’t even celebrate when we lived in the US.

Merry would be a very interesting way of what’s going on here now. Both kids are sick, and I have to come up with elaborate ploys to distract their attention, say, if I want to go to the bathroom or drink some water. While I am writing, one is asleep and the other is under the coffee table trying to sit up. As long as he doesn’t succeed, I have some peace and quiet.

Back to Christmas. I really managed to put my preschool teacher in stitches once when I mixed up several pieces of information – Ronald Reagan pardoning a turkey for Thanksgiving which is always on a Thursday, my parents discussing the dates on which Hanukkah would work out that year (being according to the Jewish calendar), and the general notion of Santa Claus who I knew full well did not exist – and explained that Ronald Reagan wears a white beard and red suit and made it the law that Christmas this year would be on a Monday.

When I was seven, I performed my first act of civil disobedience by refusing to sing in the school pageant unless they added some Hanukkah songs.

He sat up. Oh, bother.

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Warning: TMI

For those of you who are sensitive to bodily functions, go find another blog to read today.

Nothing big, but after three years, 2 months, and 12 days of peace, Aunt Flo came to visit yesterday. I must say that it is quite the embuggerance. I smell like a slaughterhouse and feel like a neglected toddler whose diaper hasn’t been changed all day. And don’t get me started on the complementary migraine and my general level of tolerance for Other Human Beings (n/a). Fortunately I still have my shit together to the extent that I am not even remotely considering another baby to give myself another year and some of PMS-free living.

To celebrate my Mom’s birthday, we all went to the Dead Sea area for some history and nature (and A LOT of driving with a toddler in potty-training). On Friday we went up to Massada. Now, having been a backpacking-happy teenager and whatnot, I had already been there on at least 5 different occasions in the past, had gone up and down the mountain in every possible direction, and had toured every nook and cranny of the site, even the less visited cisterns and Roman encampments. And yet, this time it was completely different. First of all this was my first time going up the cable car, which made me feel ever so geriatric. But that’s beside the point. At the risk of sounding terribly cheesy, motherhood gave me an entirely different perspective on the story and made it incredibly real to me. For the first time, more than the beautiful view, impressive architecture, or fabulous air up there, I just felt like I was walking among the dead. The weight of the human tragedy which is supposed to have occurred there was almost too much. I was struck by a powerful sense of Jewish heritage, binding me to this place, drawing a straight line between what had happened here nearly 2000 years ago, cutting through the present, and the future. Our future, as a people on our Earth.

I won’t go into all of it because it is both exhausting and depressing, but that where I was on Friday.

On a more cheerful note, Neta seems to have finally got the point of potty training. So yeah, we had to stop about every ten minutes on the road for her to try to go, mostly without success, and now every time she’s on the potty she makes me sing my hip-hop rendition of “Go Neta! Go Neta! You can do it! It’s your pee-pee!” complete with dance moves and all that. And nothing in the world can beat seeing how proud she is of herself with every success. She is just pure joy.

Here’s to a good week, and Merry Christmas to whoever wants it.

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Would the real mommy please stand up?

Yiftah had fallen asleep and the first thing I did was eat lunch, and then I was going to post here about him being asleep and what should I do first, but he woke up, so bugger that.

I know that this is just a phase, but the sleepless nights and 16-hour workdays of the SAHM are really starting to get to me. To make matters even more interesting, my breast pump lost a part, so until I get that fixed, DH can’t help me with the nocturnal feedings. The result is that I wake up every morning with a new part of my head feeling like somebody repeatedly clubbed it with a baseball bat.

I often ask myself who thought it would be a good idea to let me raise children. I might have mentioned this before, but it really is a troubling question. I think it would make much more sense, if I were, say, the babysitter. I mean, they are fantastic kids and I must have some part in that, but I would hardly call a mother who finds herself muttering “STFU” through clenched teeth at 4 a.m. the epitome of stellar parenting.

Yiftah must know what’s going through my head now because he’s just put on his most adorable “come and take a bite out my cute little tuchus” smile, and is proceeding to crawl across the room while letting out his gleeful battle call “A-dah-dah-dah!!!”.

Oy, the guilt.

Gotta go make a phone call. That o-ring for my pump isn’t going to order itself.

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Whose life is this anyway?

Sometimes I have to wonder. Is this my life that I am leading?

Every possible aspect about my life is a result of my choices, and usually the result I was hoping to achieve with my choices. I do what I want to be doing when I want to be doing it. I am generally where I was hoping to be at this point in life. And my future is wide open ahead of me, with endless possibilities that I just have to reach out and grab.

And yet, I feel like I am standing at the sidelines and watching The Yael Show or something. I’m mostly experiencing my life as an academic observation. I seem to know how to get here and now, but not to actually be there.

Is it always going to be like this?

(The crafts are coming, I promise.)

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In loving memory

Yahrzeit candle
Nancy Kelem, wife, mother, friend, and just an overall good person.

“On the night you were born, the moon smiled with such wonder that the stars peeked in to see you and the night wind whispered, life will never be the same.”
– Nancy Tillman

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Just a little something for Shabbat

I had this sketch on an audio tape that was lost about a decade ago, and I missed it terribly. I think youtube is the invention of the century. No, the millenium.

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