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.

Ducklings

Someone mentioned to me recently that I can now officially call myself Mama Duck, since I have the same number of children as Mrs. Mallard in "Make Way for Ducklings." Since I haven't bothered making up blogger names for my children (I thought it would be too hard to keep track of who is supposed to be whom) I will now dub them Jack, Kack, Lack, Mack, Nack, Oack, Pack and Quack.

(Jack and Nack are the boys)

April, 2008: I can't keep track this way, so I'm re-nicknaming my kids. If you actually know them, you can probably figure out who is who just from the names I chose, but except for Jelly, don't ever call any of them any of these nicknames in real life. Not if you want them to answer, anyway.

January, 2014: Attempt to rename them failed, because the nicknames bothered me. Switching to initials and backdating the text to reflect that.

MY, my firstborn, a boy. age 10
CD, next in line, a girl, age 9
RM, girl, age 8
HT, girl, age 7
MM, boy, age 5
SS, girl, age 3
NL, (also called Jelly when she was 2), girl, very very 2
TT, the baby, almost 1

I must be insane.

Okay, who in her right mind would volunteer to go on a trip that involved 1 grownup and 8 kids (all under 11) in a big van for an hour in each direction, plus another 3 kids and 2 more grownups all together on the T for an hour and a half each way involving 3 train changes in total (2 during rush hour) and a couple of hours keeping track of just under a dozen kids (all under 11) in the Museum of Science?

Me, I guess, because I did. Last week.

3 grownups. 11 children, ages 10, 9, 8, 7, 7, 6, 4, 3, 22mo, 3mo, and 2mo. On the T, because my big van is just a few inches too tall for the parking garage. Two in strollers, one in a sling. Switching at Government Center. (twice, plus again when the T we were on went express on the way home).

Actually, we had a lot of fun. But I'm not volunteering to do it again anytime soon. So this week, we took 2 grownups and 12 children (fewer grownups and we added a 5 yr old) to Carousel Village instead, where my van fits in the open-air parking.

And yes, we all survived the trip.

And the Magic number is...

37.
Yes, I made it to 37 with a brocha!!! (Okay, so I missed a couple of brochot along the way, but not any actual numbers, so it still counts.) And that means I counted with a brocha in labor (27), and the night after giving birth (28), and for a good week and a half after! Not bad. And then my husband went back to work, I had all the kids plus a newborn, and I promptly forgot a whole day.

Oh, and RenReb missed one in the thirties too, so I might have even gotten past her! Which makes me feel a bit better, although compared to last year's magic number (1, yes, I missed counting completely on the second day of Sefiras HaOmer last year, yes, that made me feel pretty dumb, although I completely blame my husband for failing to remind me.) I think I did a pretty good job!