Retroactive Nomenclature

I've never been all that good at the regularity part of keeping a journal. I'm going to try again here.  My kids are so amusing, and I'd like to think I have something to add to the already overflowing blogosphere. I'm probably deluding myself, but that's okay, no one is forcing you to come read what I write.  Mostly this is for me, anyway.

Which brings me to the subject of my kids and their names.  I see the benefit in creating pseudonyms for web use, keeping their actual names out of search engines, at least here, but I had so much trouble keeping track of whom I was talking about that I changed their blog nicknames once after I picked them already.  Since I often refer to my children by their initials in real life, I'm changing their nicknames once again.  I will now refer to each child by his or her first and middle initials. The first reference in a given post will also include his or her age at time of posting.

So I'm going to engage in a little retroactive nomenclature (aka back-dating the text) here for my own peace of mind, and then see about remembering to actually post here ever for my zero readers to see (but mostly for me, so zero readers is just fine.)

6 much

"I want the much Jelly* has. Is that the much Jelly has?" SS3 asked, as her father poured orange juice into her cup at the Shabbos table.

"It's how much SS gets," said her father.

"I'll count it," she said, running her finger randomly up the side of the cup, "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. It's 6 much. Jelly, count yours. Do you have 6 much?"

2 year old Jelly runs her own finger randomly up the side of her cup. "1, 2, 3, 6, 7. Yup, it's 6 much!"

Both children happily drink their orange juice.

*(Jelly = NL2, but as she was answering to "Jelly" for the year she was 2, I left that here.)

Oh, yes, the trip

Well, we all survived. CD9 swallowed wrong on the way down and threw up, 2 hours out. We decided she wasn't actually sick (several kids had just gotten over a stomach bug, which she had somehow miraculously missed, but this seemed to be just car sickness, not "real") and kept going, after a stop to clean up a bit.

Then we somehow got lost for a little bit in Queens, but luckily we'd switched drivers by then (I drove most of the way down) and my husband was a lot less likely to panic than I am! I dug out my LI highway map and managed to navigate back to the Van Wyck so that we could get back on our directions, since my map didn't have enough local streets to get us all the way there otherwise.

We were about an hour late, but my husband was able to join them for the Mincha Minyan, we heard all the important speeches, saw all the important people... it was fun. I had no problem finding what to eat at the fancy smörgåsbord, but the kids had only "dessert" so we had to stop for pizza and French fries (the latter for my lactose intolerant but still picky kid) before we headed back north.

Wow, I have never seen so many Kosher restaurants in one place in my entire life. And I grew up 15-20 minutes away from there!

Trip back was pretty uneventful, except for the optical illusion truck traveling in front of us. It was practically invisible in the dark, except for the taillights, which really looked like three separate cars far off in the distance. My husband, who was driving, saw it and dismissed it as far away and ignored it. I woke up at that point, having dozed off for a bit, and having nothing better to do, was focusing on the lights for long enough to suddenly realize they stayed in sync with each other, and thus break the optical illusion in time to make him slow down well before we would have hit it. (We were going the speed limit, but the truck was driving a bit slower than that.) And even then, I was still unsure that it wasn't really three cars way far ahead until we pulled out and passed it... it was a good (if dangerous) optical illusion.

The kid who refused to go with us then went on an even longer car trip to Montreal in February, with a school-sponsored trip, with no complaints at all. Go figure.

Goldie Eisenhorn and the Three Behrs

Once upon a time, in a year much like this one, where Erev Pesach falls out on Shabbos, there lived a little girl named Goldie. Goldie Eisenhorn. She was about 7, old enough to cross small streets and such, but not old enough to stay home alone. Luckily she lived with her parents. About as often as she was home, she visited another family, friends of her family, who lived across the street and down two blocks, the Behrs. The Behrs had a little boy just two and a half years old. His name was actually Chaim, but everyone called him Baby, and Goldie liked to help his Mama around the house, or just sit and read to little Chaim.

Goldie's parents had never wanted just one child, and they'd been seeing doctors to help explain why they hadn't had any more children yet. Goldie's mother was finally expecting a new little brother or sister, and the baby was due about 2 weeks after Pesach that year. Goldie's mother was very tired! Goldie tried her best to help her and stay out of her way, but she was only a little girl, and she did sometimes get bored playing by herself. And when she got bored, she often got into trouble. When her mother was too tired to play with her, she sent Goldie across the street and down the 2 blocks to "help" Mama Behr.

(to be continued...)

Insane, take two.

It's a mitzvah to be "me'sameach Chosson v'Kallah." That means it's a commandment (from G-d, since who else gets to issue commandments?) to make a bride and groom happy.

Generally that's said in relation to the actual wedding, and maybe for the week (or even the year) afterwards, but we're taking the commandment a little more generally, and since

1) we've been informed that my husband's brother (the groom in question) really really wants him to come to his engagement party and

2) my husband's life wouldn't be worth much my husband would have to do all the driving himself if he went to a PARTY without me, and

3) farming out the kids on a school night (I mean, it's Sunday, but we'll be back late) is more trouble than it's worth...

So, we're farming out the one who doesn't want to sit in the van for 8 hours in one day, and taking the other 7 kids with us from Rhode Island to Queens (New York). Four hours there, four hours of party, four hours back, transfer 7 hopefully sleeping kids from a 15-passenger van to their beds, wake up bright and early and get everyone to school on time in the morning. Piece of cake.

I'll let all my non-existent readers know how it went, B'li neder (without a vow.)

Hey, enough people already think I'm crazy for having 8 kids in 10 years. What's a day trip to NY?

Two, too, to

Jelly (NL2) is two. Being two is very important. Whenever someone is counting out loud, and gets to two, she immediately pipes up with "I'm two!" Sometimes she also says it when someone used the word "too" or "to" instead of "two," but hey, she's only two and she doesn't spell so well yet. She does however, have a good grasp of numbers higher than two when she wants more of something!

Case in point: This week CD9 came home from school with a can of Pepsi. It was her prize from some school program. (We can talk some other time about school prizes being sugary junk! Needless to say, I was less than pleased.) Anyway, CD shared her Pepsi with some of the other kids. Jelly wanted more. CD told her, "I think you had too much soda already." Jelly wasn't fazed by that. Immediately she came back with, "I want four much!"

Say what?

SS3 came running into the playroom from the hallway, obviously very upset. "Mama," she said, "MM4 put a chalking hazard in my hair!" "You mean a choking hazard?" I asked, only to have her respond, "No, a chalking hazard. We were drawing with chalk and he put a chalking hazard in my hair! We need to wash it out."

It's so hard to be three, especially when you have to deal with big brothers who put chalking hazards in your hair.