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Thursday, March 31, 2016

How To: Passport Picture

I've had to work this out from scratch four times now so I figure I'll post the instructions. At least I'll be able to find them next time and maybe it'll help someone else searing for a how-to (and bring traffic here! Yay!)
  1. Take LOTS of pictures, following the guidelines (no shadows etc)
  2. Create a document in publisher or Photoshop or your preferred photo-editing software in the dimensions necessary for the final product
  3. If you can (like in publisher) make the margins to indicate the difference between actual picture and largest allowed head size. For instance, my picture size needed to be # and the head size is allowed to be between # and # so my margins are #. I was able to do this when using publisher, but in Photoshop I skipped this step and estimated with my eye.
  4. Pop the picture into the document. In Photoshop the default is a sizing tool when you drag a picture in so that is super helpful and the job is basically done right there
  5. Make another document in the photo printing size 4x6
  6. "Select all" in the first document and then "copy" and "paste" the picture into the 4X6 document
  7. Repeat (or just copy the layer) because the government obviously doesn't have copy machines and they require two pictures
  8. Now you'd hate to have to repeat all that photo certification running around and printing again. So choose another two shots at least and repeat the process. That way when you submit your application you have several choices all ready to go.

Truth is it really is worth paying for a professional to do this. So far I'm at my third round of trying to get it right. Either way, maybe these instructions will be of benefit to someone else and my toil will not have been in vain!


Happy shooting,

Wednesday, March 30, 2016

Bedtime Battles

The other day I had an epiphany. "I'd better start liking bedtime," I wrote in my diary, "after all, by the rate things are going I'm going to be serving at this post for another 20 years."


OK, I exaggerate. My youngest is 6 weeks so I've got another 10 years of bedtime ahead of me? 12? Either way, I need to stop crying that I hate bedtime every night.


Literally crying.


Last night my husband was out during the joyous hour. At one point in the chaos of bedding down three big ones while holding a newborn I'd had enough. I tried "disengage". Clutching baby to my chest I closed the door to my bedroom, leaned against it and started sobbing, praying for success in The Bedtime Battles.


Tonight was the opposite side of the coin. The difference was dramatic! Oh sure, my throat was still sore at the end of it but thankfully that was caused by a different sort of screaming. It was Love Screaming.


The turnaround came after everyone was successfully bathed and readying for stories. The girls were clothed but the towel-clad child was testing out how far he could push his mother by asking his sisters to touch him.


I screamed.


And then I remembered, "put as much (or more) energy into positivity as you would negativity."


K, I made up that quote. But I figured that if we are supposed to be charging our children with positive vibes and connection then I should SCREAM an affirmation (hence the term 'Love Scream') just as loud as I would scream if things were going wrong.


And I did.


A mere two seconds later, there went Mother Banshee once again. Same tone, different words.


"OH WOW LOOK AT YOU WEARING YOUR SHIRT AND GETTING READY TO PUT ON YOUR PAJAMA PANTS!!!!!"


The kid flipped. Backtrack - he looked terrified when I started screaming "oh wow look at you" and took him a minute to realize this was a Love Scream aka affirmation. It was wild!




I had such fun that I kept screaming for the rest of bedtime.


I hollered, "YOU ARE SITTING ON YOUR BED"


when I normally would have screamed at the child to place her head on her pillow. And guess what? That's exactly what she did.


Truly a miraculous tool!

Thursday, March 17, 2016

A New Way

I'm starting a new parenting course. This was a big jump for me as I really, really liked Sheffer. Oh, sure there was an item or two that didn't sit well with me. In general, though, I'd really adopted the approach and was using it exclusively.


There was one problem:
Consolidation.


Part of the structure of the Sheffer system is to solve problems. At each session a participant would raise an issue and then after learning the topic of the day we'd resolve it (actually she'd resolve it) after digging deep to discover what the problem really was. Towards the end of the course, sessions were spent problem-solving all the way. It was terrific. I loved the system and was even able to do some problem solving with a friend on the phone.


And time moved on...


And I grew forgetful...


And I'm stuck.


Stuck believing in a system that I am no longer able to practice. I need the support of the problem solving sessions or a refresher course, but alas, neither are available.


So I'm moving on. Bit sad but I'm really looking forward to gaining a new set of tools. From what I've seen of the course (read a book on the approach) it will really work for Daniel.


Feeling hopeful!!

Sunday, March 6, 2016

Newborn yet Bored

He's not three weeks old yet. I should be resting, they tell me. But whilst my body is fatigued my mind is bored.

I'm used to being busy and productive - I mean, I was still working 3 days before birth and uploading materials for my sub in between contractions. So it's no wonder I haven't slowed down yet. And quite frankly, I'm not sure I want to slow down. When people ask, "How are you?" Or "Wow, out and about already?" I'm stuck. Sure, I need the rest. But I'm feeling cooped up and just plain bored.

My older son (6.5) is thrilled to have a brother. He's been discussing at exactly which point baby brother will move into his room. Part of me wants to snuggle him close and never let go. As time passes, though, another part of me grows.... The part that's counting down until baby is old enough to sleep through the night and I can get back to routine.

Look, kid, if your reading this don't worry - I love you like crazy! Snapping photos, cuddling, nursing, calling you funny names and talking to you in high pitched nonsense words. It's just the same struggle I've always had:  working mom vs SAHM...... how much to work.....  should i send my toddler to full time or part time childcare.....
And whenever I think I've reached middle ground the same issue resurfaces. Am I forever doomed?

Thursday, February 26, 2015

Mimi and Lani

Were you ever so slow
That Momma yelled, "Go!"
You were busy
You were frilly
Lost in your own world
Goin about your day
Nice and easy pace
When Momma yelled, "Go!"
You shook, you quacked
Them Momma yelled, "Go!
"Daughter, why are you so slow?"
And you dwadled
And you toddled
And you took your time today
Until Momma yelled, "Go!
"Gotta get on with my day"
But you were moving slow
Slow
Slow
Slow
But your Momma
She got hotter
Her collar was a'fire
"Go, go, go!
"Get a move on little daughter!"

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Busy with Loads of Time

A bit of self reflection before Rosh Hashana... Found this short draft from April:

I'm disappointed with myself. I cut back on work for the express purpose of being more available for my family. It's been two months and I still haven't gotten my act together. Take tonight for instance: When the kids came home from school today I served dinner and hung out with them. But then I started to feel a bit restless, and as bedtime drew near, I started marking tests when I should have been dressing the little 'uns in p-jams.

And now:

The next term I increased my teaching load from one subject to four subjects, in addition to sporadic subbing. Last week I taught 17 hours face to face! When I try to picture the amount of preparation that went into that... shudder. My kaf hakelah experience this year taught me two really important things:

1. Firstly, like the old VP at school used to say, "If you want to make sure something will happen then give the job to the busiest person you can find." I found that to be true for me personally this term. I've BH been able to keep my head over water and work out a system to still run my house and love my children (and myself!!) as a result of the busy-ness.

2. Secondly, stop kvetching. At one point during all my busy-busy-ness I made a mental switch. I decided that instead of whining that I didn't have time to breathe (which was close to true!) I should just keep going and quit complaining. What a relief that was! I actually enjoyed being busy once I stopped analyzing my life choices five times every day. I think 'saving Cheshbon HaNefesh for evening' should be my new hachlata this year, no?

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

My Role

"...al mitzvas Tzitzis," Mimi intoned as she lifted the hems of her skirt to her lips with a kiss, "Now the girl's bracha!"

"What's the girl's bracha?"

"Hareini mekabel..."

Hmm, she might be right after all. I've spent so much of my mental energies lately analyzing my role as  wife, mom of three, housekeeper and such. Maybe it all comes down to this one bracha: accepting the responsibility of loving my family like myself, even when that entails washing their clothes, wiping spills and picking up after them. 

Thanks, Mim.

Saturday, March 8, 2014

The "I" ride

My brother took me for a ride. He was quite the handful, actually. When we started out, he was ever so cautious. It was his fist time behind the SUV wheel and he understood his limitations. It took about 12 minutes to reach our destination, normally 5 minutes away. For instance, he let three rounds of a traffic light pass before making it across a busy intersection without a light. But given the circumstances, that was great. Timing does not feature as an important goal for a new driver. His focus and caution earned him many a point.


We arrived at our destination. My sister and her new husband were excited to see the fresh-faced driver at the wheel, and his enthusiasm for the trip went up a few notches. A few too many notches, that is...


"Calm down, brother." I cautioned him, "easy does it."


But it was too late. He was high.


We hit the road again, but this time the results were downright scary. His sharp turns and speed had us nervously barking orders. Three back seat drivers! He took it too far when he nearly scraped the side of a parked car. My brother-in-law made him stop, get out and look at the crash-that-was-not. BH we made it home safely, but for the next day I was enormously grateful for the solid ground under my feet.


In analysis, my brother readily agreed that the chief trouble-maker here was ego. When he understood his limitations at the beginning of the ride, brother was a star chauffeur. Once his success got to his head, he was overconfident, almost giddy. Proud of his skill and showing off, our ride could have ended in disaster.


The dangers of confidence.


On the other hand, if he had been too timid he never would have crossed that first intersection. There has got to be a balance between recognizing one's strengths and excessive caution.


I'm sure he'll get better at it for the next ride...


Sunday, March 2, 2014

Everything I need to know in life I learned from a plane flight

A few months ago I stepped onto an airplane with three children and stayed there for fourteen hours. There were many other people on the flight, but those three little chocolate balls were my responsibility for the trip.


People were amazed that I was brave enough to travel solo. But there was one person who's comment really astounded. CL is a friend who I admire to no end. She comes from a similar background to mine, but she made a lifestyle choice that I envy. CL is a SAHM. My hero-style mom. And yet... and yet... when I threw the compliment back at her, "What do you mean? You are a full time mother all the time" she quickly returned with, "Sure, but never for fourteen hours straight on my own."


So I've spent some time thinking and wondering about what made the trip work. Today I came up with a new thought. Plane ride = purpose. As in, my to-do list for the flight had one item on it: take care of the children.


You see, sometimes I can have a day that is charged with meaning: a non-stop day at work, an Erev Shabbos with a long to-do list, a writing deadline or a scheduled lecture. On those sort of days every moment is fraught with meaning, every second too precious too be wasted. The day has a goal.


As a teen, I thrived off days like that. (read: nights) I would wait until the night before a report was due to get started.... and always got an A. "A" for adrenaline that is... Always ready last minute and still great quality. This style of working unfortunately became second nature to me. I say unfortunately because preparing lessons last minute is not so well suited to a mothering lifestyle, when children also have last minute needs. I keep trying to complete tasks before they are due, but there is just something magical about the last minute rush.  Until today, I never stopped to analyse the quality of the time.


What changed?


Today was rather ordinary. No work today. Kids slept in, when they work, I fed and dressed them, dropped the oldest at school and went to a shiur with the girls. We came home around 11:30 and I fed them lunch, then settled everyone for naps. But they wouldn't sleep. I started to feel pressured... until I realized that there was nothing urgent waiting to get done. So I chilled. But it felt odd. I'm always so busy, running from one thing to the next... and here there was nothing to get done... I had no excuse to get annoyed. Odd.


So I slept with them a bit. Then I woke up, wandered around the house, looking for something to get busy with. Tried clean up, phone calls, diaper changing... Can you read the boredom in this recounting of my day? Then I stopped to myself and thought, "hey, what's my purpose?"


Light bulb moment.


Life is always so pressured that I run from task to task without looking at the overall picture. But today was so low key. Notice the difference? On an airplane I have one goal: look after my family. When I'm hours away from an assignment's due date there is one goal: complete the assignment. Erev Shabbos? One goal: cook, cook, cook.


Notice a trend here?
Pressure gives purpose.
More pressure gives more urgency to that purpose.


So it looks like I've got to analyse what my overall purpose is on an everyday level. I've got to mimic the sense of mission I feel on a long plane flight and apply purpose to charge the regular in between moments.
Ah, now I've got a busy item on my to-do list! Yay! Time to run off and get busy again...

Saturday, August 31, 2013

Mommy

Crutches aren't much fun. Oh, they look exciting as a kid. Those so afflicted revelled in the attention. Not me. I was proud of my never-cast-never-accident claim to fame. In fact, when my daughter hurt her finger last year my shock was largely centred on "that happened to my daughter?!?". So when I found myself swinging around with a sprained ankle three weeks after my third was born I was none too pleased.

The biggest irony of the whole event, though, is all about my momma. You see, for five years I have been saying that my goal in life is to be just like my mother. And she had also just sprained her ankle. Only that wasn't what I meant!

What I really meant was I wanted to imitate Mommy's...

1. EMPATHY: My mother is the best listener you ever meant. "How to Listen so Kids Will Talk?" That's her. She totally integrated those principles. And more, because many an adult finds themselves spilling their deepest and darkest to her on their first encounter. I think it's defiantly because she just listens, empathises and never passes it on.

2. INTROSPECTIVE: Not only did my mother listen to us, but she taught us how to listen to ourselves. She trained us to dig deep, think about the why. Twas rather cute to overhear my brother concurring that he enjoyed her penetrating questions because it taught him to think.

Which brings me to the next quality...

3. NURTURING: Mommy relishes caring for other people, mostly through food. She loves hosting people at her house. My grandparents call her home a "magnet"

4. MINIMALIST: My mother is not into things. Take the living room for example: Three couches in her house were originally purchased for my father's bachelor apartment more than 25 years ago. They look super masculine and are covered with couch covers. I could never endure that but Mommy cares not a hoot. There is another, simply gorgeous couch in the front room, but that one is an inheritance from her grandmother.

5: LEARN AND GROW: Sure, the Magnet attracts those with physical hunger, but spiritual-seekers can be found there as well. Twice a week she opens the door for shiurim with two popular lecturers and a dance class, too. That's pretty incredible on its own, as my dining room is suffering from the Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome more often than not. The thing that really gets me here is her face when she sits and listens to the classes. My mother is drinking the stuff up! She's for real about it, too. Listening, learning, taking notes, discussing, internalizing, and growing. Always growing. Once when I called and asked, "How are you today?" she responded, "I'm working on my Bitachon." What an answer! Mommmy, you are AWESOME! I've learned from my mother that life is a continuous journey and I can keep on improving.

Mommy, thank you. I am still learning from you. I watch you and am amazed at all you do and juggle. Hashem should bentch you with a gut gebentched yohr where you continue to inspire others and your challenges should be cast away like my crutches.

Thursday, August 29, 2013

Jury Duty (Guest Post)

My sister Chava is the most awesome person you'll ever meet. Fun, active, thought-provoking and just gorgeous. She wrote an incredible piece on her jury experience this week. Enjoy!

The court room is tense. The room is silent, everyone is following directions, there's about 40 people and I'm #3. The judge begins asking each person questions. #1 then #2 and suddenly my hearts racing and I hear the judge say #3! I am sure everyone can see my heart pumping, my red face and my shaky voice. All eyes are on me. I'm talking to the judge! The judge keeps reassuring us, its all good, no need to worry, there's no right or wrong. My turn passes.
 
For the next group question you have to raise you hand to answer yes, and I again, this time way more relaxed, raise my hand and answer the judges questions. Not so tense and scary after all.
 
This experience hit home. This is exactly the time frame we are in right now...that tense aura of the month of elul, hearts pounding, shofar is blowing, it's time to do teshuva, Rosh Hashana is near, we are going to be judged. And... The judge, Hashem, the king, our father is out in the field so close to us, smiling, reassuring us, telling us to come and ask whatever we like. Now's our chance! Take advantage! It's really not all tense and scary...it's our father asking us what we want for the new year! Hashem is telling me to come and ask! What am I waiting for? Ask!! Make the keili!!

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Foucs on Food #1: AROMA

Garlic.

How many ways are there to slice it?

Newest trick: Put a clove into the pan while roasting chicken. The aroma it lends to the food is incredible! Sounds simple? Maybe. But did you know that you don't even have to peel the thing???

The peel is so small, slim, paper-thin really, you would think it hardly matters at all. Still, the chef explained that it creates more sweetness when you leave the peel in. We can skip the mechanics of that one - the cool thing is how well it ties into the upcoming Yomim Noraim.

When the new year chugs in, there's always a lot of hype about resolutions, making them stick... one technique out there is baby steps. Still, I often want to feel grand and create a whole new me overnight.

The answer is a slim as a garlic peel.

Even the tiniest things can make a whole world of difference and draw an incredible AROMA into the food. One slim little change is all that's needed.

Now that's doable!

K'siva V'chasima Tovah :-)

Monday, July 29, 2013

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Texting has destroyed my ability to write!!!

Suddenly, I find myself ending sentences in multiple exclamation marks. The shorter the sentence, the better. Ugh. I tried writing an article for a local magazine, but I kept on restarting. I just couldn't get the words to flow. I used to be able to churn out an article or post with ease. Write a few paragraphs on a given subject in passable English? Sure, just give me twenty minutes. And here I am... choppy sentences and all. What happened to me?

Recently, I even caught myself thinking in text. The thoughts scrolled in, bit by bit, with a  brief interlude to type the words, as though they were coming across a whatsapp chat. Now this has got to stop!
There was a little bit of myself, the author in me, that had just started emerging, but since I joined the ranks of smart-phone owners... gone...

So here I am, forcing myself to write out a thought in more than the top sentence. I'm not particularly pleased with the piece, but forcing myself to let it out there anyways.

Because the only way to improve my writing is by writing.

TTYL!!!!

Thursday, December 6, 2012

Positive Reinforcement

My happiness
bubbles
Sometimes the silliest things make us happy.


The school I work in takes report cards very seriously. Let me make that really clear: The school I work in takes report cards very seriously. I had never seen anything like it before, and it hit me like a ton of bricks on a clear day the first time I had to write them.


When I was in school, I got an "A+" (most of the time...) and a little footnote "1" for "pleasure to have in class" and "23" for "too talkative". That was it. Clean and simple. Probobly took a grand total of thirty minutes for a teacher to fill in the appropriate letters and numbers. Oh yes, there was an option to add an additional comment on the back, but there was never more than a scentance or two between my 20-odd teachers.


Anyways, the report cards I have to write are from a different planet entirely. Here's a sample...
Yah. Intense. The part that didn't make it onto the screen (!) was a course descriptor I wrote for my subject. Anywhooo.... it's a rather intense process, and I'm B"H in the final stages of it now. But I noticed something interesting. My absolute favorite part is watching the little red bullet next to each student's name turn green when I've finished her report. I actually yelped, "yes!" Just so thrilling. Oh, the small pleasures in life...

Monday, December 3, 2012

Make learning compulsory and attendance optional.

When I first started teaching, I modelled my style after a favourite High School teacher of mine. Like me, she was young, with-it and taught Jewish History. Thing is, she didn't quite have the best classroom management techniques. She prepared short lessons, designed to fill only 1/2 to 3/4 of the allotted time. Then we'd gather 'round her desk and chat. Sometimes she didn't prepare at all. None of us minded. We felt very close to Ms. Young - we were her first students ever, we celebrated her engagement, wedding and the birth of her first child throughout the four years she taught us. But I was never scared of her. Not the slightest.
 
My head told me that I ought to be modelling after my Math teacher instead. Mrs. Math was scary! We did our homework nightly (though it meant schlepping home a textbook and notebook), studied hard for our weekly tests and were silent as the grave in the classroom. There was a stretch when I tutored a fun-loving classmate for a few months - even the Clown of the Class wanted to do well in Mrs. Math's class. Still, I have fond memories of Mrs. Math. By the time we were in our second year with her, she was telling us stories and there was a lovely atmosphere, but still very formal. It was clear that Mrs. Math was boss.
 
Make learning compulsory and attendance optional.
 
That wasn't necessarily Mrs. Math's mantra. Her's was probably more like, "I am KING" - because she was! Still, I think adopting that line would make for a classroom where the learning is much more effective. Whatever has to happen will happen, but I as teacher have one strong goal for each lesson. A mission, if you will. And I'm out there to make that learning happen! Be there or be square...

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Yummy and Healthy

"Lollies," my son fondly stated, "we can only eat one. It's not healthy."

I could almost hear a deep sigh. Such trauma for a three year old. He wasn't finished. Daniel had prepared an entire thesis on the subject that he was preparing to expound on the topic, right there, in the back seat of the car.

"Some foods are yummy, but they are not healthy."

Yes, my son, such is life...

"We can only eat them on Shabbos. Like lollies and cookies."

"Daniel," I asked him, "What about strawberries? Are strawberries a treat?"

"Yah." a little wag of the finger accompanied the next injunction. "But only one."

"Why?"

"It's not healthy."

The laughter bubbled up inside of me, but I squeezed down the lid to maintain a straight face.

"Sweetie, strawberries are yummy AND healthy."

Oh.

"What about watermelon?"

"Yes, honey, watermelon is healthy."

He thought he could push his luck, "Chocolate?"

"No, chocolate is not healthy*. But we can have some for Shabbos."

He smiled, and settled back in his seat contentedly for the rest of the ride.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Experienced and Sparkling

The girls simply sparkled that night! They wore white caftans speckled with a shimmery gold design that glittered and sparkled in the reflection of the disco lighting above. Though I only taught a sprinkling of them, my heart sang, dance and cheered them on. An entire grade put on the most beautiful production, with their topics of learning interwoven between sparkly scenes of drama, music and dance. Truly an event to make a teacher's heart sing with nachas.

It was endearing to watch the girls as they bit their nails, threatened to throw up/faint and just plain freaked out in the wings. "I feel like we haven't rehearsed enough!" Shainy* confided as she waited for her cue.

Their sweet nervousness over a short-lived performance cast my mind back to my first days of teaching. I was never prepared enough. There was always one more source to look up and one more worksheet to write. Ah, the sparkly confidence that piggie-backs on four years experience... Lessons that I thought were vital were oft disposed of as I waved goodbye. Worksheets and booklets that I had toiled over for endless nights were shredded to bits by the very girls who I thought would treasure them. While I, too, was once a nervous wreck before performing on stage, I now scoff at my own daily platform. What's the big deal? I preach to some 30 students several times daily. It's my job.

And yet, and yet, sometimes there will be a moment of fear. It could be after a long vacation, when starting with a new class. Sometimes I speak at other venues, and the butterflies flutter and prance as I attempt to sparkle on the stage. It's part of the job. I prepare as best I can - you know the routine... I wear my best shaitel, my most flattering outfit and take great pains with my make up. I stand up there and do the talk, doing my best to ignore the dancers in my belly. Sure, I get over it, I move on. But it takes time - the first time I spoke for a group of older women I finished two hours worth of classroom material in just 40 minutes. I was that nervous. "Oh, are we done?" they wondered. The shiur was meant to last an hour, mind you.

On a certain level, then, I get my students. The others might have thought them silly, but they were entitled to their nervousness. Part of the act, y'know?

Either way, they really sparkled during the show...

Sparkly inspiration thanks to:
Mama’s Losin’ It
 
To be continued...

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

It could take a good two, three hours to prepare a solid 45-minute lesson. What about when you up the ante? After researching, writing the lesson, preparing worksheets and a follow up quiz, I decided that my Jewish History lesson on the life of Shlomo ibn Gabirol needed some more pizazz. It was late enough, trust me, but the perfectionist in my soul must've had a good dose of coffee because there I was, enhancing the lesson.

I gave my eyes a vigorous rub, and clocked in another hour or two to create the slideshow, animation, or interactive activity that would really help my students take home the learning in a very real, long-term way. (Amen!)

If you are lucky, you teach two parallel classes and can use the same lesson twice. And then it's over. All the materials get filed away neatly (I wish!) into a binder or digital folder and hibernate for another year.

What's the point? I spend all this time in resource creation, and it gets used once. Shoin.

So I think about sharing my resources on a public site,but it's tough. It's my baby. I've put my kishkes into the thing, and it would just hurt to let go of it. Sure, it would be nice if my work got more mileage. Don't get me wrong, I share materials with my colleague, and if a specific person asked for a slideshow or whatever, no problem. But to upload all my resources so some random, ungrateful individual can download, delete my name, and present it as their own. Ugh. I guess I want the personal recognition. Maybe it's just an ego thing...

Sure, I can upload as pdf, or video file, but it just doesn't help the teacher to the same degree if the file is static.

But how can I expect to use free resources when I have such a difficult time spreading around my own wealth?

Monday, November 12, 2012

Squeaky Clean on Shabbos Morning

The children dawned before the sun that fateful day. I rubbed my bleary eyes and schlepped my aching muscles out of bed. No point in two of us being zombies, I figured. I shut the door behind me, leaving DH in his nice, comfy bed. I gathered up the children, and together we dined and played for nearly two hours.

By 7:15, I realized that I was squinting at the clock through bleary eyes. I held on until 7:30, then gratefully headed back to bed, "your turn!"

Mmmm....

At a quarter to nine, DH came in to tell me that he was on his way to shul. "Don't worry, I'm getting up." The little ones came in a few times, tried to cajole me out of bed. I sent them off for a banana, Lego, crackers, anything really, and rolled over. At one point, he asked me to open a bottle of long-life milk, and I told him they could unpack the box into the shelf.

At 9:38 (!) I heard some strange noises. "Is she ok?" I asked the big brother. No response. Yikes! I rushed out, cautioning myself all the way, "Any mess is worth it. I got a good rest. It's too late to change it. No need to get upset."

And. What. A. Mess!!!

She looked something like this, minus the bathtub, of course
Yah, shampoo. It seems that when they graciously stacked my groceries, they found a bottle of shampoo. Big Brother decided that Little Sister's hair could use some spice, and there she was...

Squeaky Clean.
 
Thanks, kids.







Thursday, November 8, 2012

New!

Have a lookie over at my new page. I've posted a slideshow I made to show in the classroom tomorrow. Parsha Class.  If you'd like to use the original file shoot off a quick email.

Catch you later,