Confessions of the "Subjugated" Wife

Guess whose mother is getting him an R/C monster truck?

2012-01-25T23:44:00.013-05:00

(This picture contains Amazon affiliate link.)

DS was supposed to have a special speaker come into his class.

SubWife: DS, did the special teacher come to school to today?
DS: Who?
SW: You know, the special lady who was supposed to come and talk to you guys?
DS: Ah, the skinny lady?
SW: What? Skinny lady?
DS: Yeah, skinny lady. She is very skinny. She is much skinnier that my teacher.
SW: And you notice these things?
DS: Yeah, her stomach is like this, - and he shows concave stomach. - She is very skinny. Like you.

I have to wrap up here because I am busy searching for a blue R/C monster truck.

One could see this as reason to lose weight #69, you know, to have less ways to be manipulated by your 5 year old, but I am a glass half full person and no longer see any reason to lose weight. Now, where's my chocolate stash?

Are you cute?

2012-01-23T01:14:00.000-05:00

"Are you cute?" I asked my baby.
"No," dramatic pause, "I'm adorable."

Reason to get organized #672

2012-01-19T03:15:00.000-05:00

We read the books, attend the lectures, ask advice from professionals and those with experience, and still, there are things in parenting that catch us completely off guard. I was caught off guard today. I tried to brush it away, to dip into the knowledge acquired from books, lectures and discussions with professionals. I ended up yelling a little, expressing my disappointment and largely tried to avoid thinking about it. And now, when everyone is asleep, the clock is showing about 2 a.m. and I am scrambling, as usual, to find that piece of paper that I absolutely need, it hits me and I start crying.

In the grand scheme of thing it really is not that important. It could be one of those things I will not recall a few years from now. But it still eats at me. My daughter, my lovely, kind, bright, absolutely delightful daughter has failed her Hebrew test, and she failed it miserably. I knew there were problems in this subject; I spoke with the teacher several times. DD has been having academic issues this year, but eventually math and English have picked up. Hebrew - not so much. And even though I was aware of it, nothing seals the fact that my child is not succeeding in school like seeing the failing grade on top of the test paper. It sits there, along with the note that DD needs individual help in this subject, and I can feel it accusing me of somehow letting this happen, of being a bad, irresponsible, neglectful mother.

Rationally I know that I can't fault myself for every bad grade and I definitely shouldn't beat myself up over it. Yet I can't help but feel guilty: for being such a disorganized mess, for quite possibly passing this on to my kid either through genes or through observation, and possibly both. For working full time and not being at home enough to help her out or organize her studying time better. For not having enough patience when I do help out. For not having the means to hire a tutor and for not really knowing the subject myself. For taking time to myself when I could've been studying with her. It feels that it wasn't the test that she failed, it feels like I failed her in some major way.

I have always been a proponent of the very sound advice on homework: make it a kid's responsibility. My own parents never checked my homework and helped only when asked. It was never spoken, but I knew that school work, academic success and studying were solely my responsibility. And even though I was a disorganized mess as far as I can remember myself, the first time I struggled academically was at the age of 12 or 13. Even then, the onus of figuring it out was on me, with help available if asked for. And it worked; as far as I can remember, I have never failed a test. And I didn't expect my daughter to either, at least not at 7. Armed with my personal experience and all the advice from all the books I read, I planned to employ the same approach to my kids' academics as my parents. And it worked, until it no longer did.

It was apparent that I had to take over homework, in some way. DD obviously needed someone to explain what she missed in class, help her focus and organize her work, check answers and drill, drill, drill, But mainly help her focus and get organized. Ladies and gentlemen, how can someone struggling her entire life with organization and focus teach her child those same things? How can I help her fight the monsters I haven't conquered myself? Somehow I was always, or almost always, able to wing it, improvise, come through at the eleventh hour, which allowed me to compensate. I don't know how to teach that. I don't know whether I should.

I am not in despair. I am not upset at DD. Well, I try not to be even though it drives me up the wall seeing how easily she loses focus. We have a plan of how to improve. Isn't what this life is all about - improving? I should put getting organized on top of my "to do" list. Heck, it's been there as far as I can remember myself. But I must get better, and sometimes it is easier to improve for someone else than for myself. And now I have that reason.

If you had any doubts

2012-01-16T16:46:00.000-05:00

...that men and women are different, here's another proof. My husband has been spending 1.5 hours 5 nights a week for the past 4 or 5 years in a Jewish learning program. He sits next to a man with whom he has got friendly. They are not very best friends, but the man has been to our house a few times and my husband has gone to this man's. And again, the whole spending 1.5 hours next to each other almost every night for several years in a row thingy.

This week this man came to us to help out my husband with his computer issues. At some point of the conversation, the man noticed our baby sleeping on the couch. He had inquired whether this was our youngest child and then asked, "How many have you got?" Yeah, he did not know. I asked hubby how could that have happened, and hubby said, "It just didn't come up." I didn't ask - too petrified to confirm that I'm right - but am almost positive that hubby doesn't know how many children this man has.

Now, after this, do we really need research that men and women are different? I assume we all know that had that been women, not only we would know the number, but also the names, ages, and quite possibly birthdays. But this is precisely what I had seen recently on msn.com, another article that men and women actually are psychologically different. Who would've thunk?

I am suggesting some other very valuable topics of research:

1. Are men and women different physiologically?
2. Is making bed really necessary every single morning?
3. If you gorge on sugar and chocolate all day long for several years, will you gain weight?
4. Does this dress make me look fat? Please analyze from all angles.

and my personal favorite:

5. If given a choice, would people prefer being rich and healthy over being poor and sick?

Reason to lose weight #68

2012-01-15T04:43:00.000-05:00

DD: Mommy, why do you have a big stomach?
Me: Ahem, because mommy was eating too much for far too long.
DD: Oh, and I was hoping it was a baby... I want a big family, Mommy. Can we have another baby? Please, please, please?

The joke's on you

2012-01-11T00:17:00.000-05:00

When I was a little girl, one my father's favorite jokes was about Fantomas. I don't know whether you are familiar with this character, but in Russia French Fantomas movies with Louis de Funes and Jean Marais were very popular. Basically the heroes are:

Fantomas - a ruthless and extremely successful criminal, master of disguise always appearing under assumed identity, which he achieves by wearing masks.

Juve - police detective obsessed with catching Fantomas.

Fandor - journalist, covering Fantomas's crimes and also looking to catch him.

Helene - Fandor's bride

So the joke goes like this:

"Ha-ha-ha," said Fantomas, leaving Helene's bedroom and taking off Fandor's mask.
"He-he-he," said Inspector Juve, leaving Helene's bedroom and taking off Helene's mask.

I don't know why this joke was appropriate to tell in front of or to the little kids, maybe to acclimated us with more liberal attitudes of the West, but I heard it often. Well, all of this intro is to tell you that we had our version of this joke play out at SubCasa.

I didn't get much sleep last night and needed a little caffeine, so I poured myself half a glass of Coke. I took a few sips, turned around for a second, only to find my son holding now almost empty glass and laughing, "Ha-ha-ha."

"Well, buddy, ha-ha-ha, the joke's on you, I have a cold sore and you just might get it too after stealing my soda and drinking from my glass." I repeated the "ha-ha-ha" (what, I wanted the lesson to sink in) and finished the coke in the glass, only to realize a second later that - he-he-he, DS still had a stomach virus... A virus that lasted quite a few days, affected both hubby and the kids; the virus that I miraculously avoided and now willingly ingested... He-he-he indeed.

Reason to lose weight #67

2012-01-07T22:44:00.001-05:00

A few weeks ago I got my kids these absolutely adorable mice.

(clicking on the image will bring you to Amazon.com page).

They were an instant hit, but of course two weeks later cheese got lost somewhere in action and I kept finding mice in all the weird places. Tonight, as I was sweeping around our eating area, I noticed this tiny little mouse shaking on the table next to the cereal bowl. "Oh, why is this cute little creature shivering?" I thought And then it hit me. My walking around was shaking the table that much. Ouch.

Corn chips anyone?

2012-01-02T03:23:00.000-05:00

Well, I, for one, am glad that I didn't make that long list of resolutions for 2012. Because the one about being a more attentive, gentler, and less yelling mom would've been broken - yes, you guessed it on January 1. Here's the photographic evidence of my motherly inattentiveness.

Oh no, I do not think that I am an evil mother because my child fell asleep on the floor. I am told it happens to the few lucky ones whose kids fall asleep on their own. Which today is me! (me! me! me!) It's what I did next that makes me a viable contender for the title of Horrible Mother of the Year. I reached for the camera only to realize that the battery is completely dead. So I did what any caring mother would've done in my place - went to charge the battery. Then I snapped a few, OK, quite a few shots. I might or might not have uploaded the picture on Facebook before finally transferring the poor kid to bed; I'll leave that up to your imagination.

On the bright side please note that the floor is relatively clean (on a day when kids were mostly home!) and the chips next to the sleeping kid are organic. So there's hope for me. And for my kids. And for Target, whose products are getting free advertisement from my blog.

P.S. I was about to publish this, but Blogger had issues. And of course the baby woke up. She came into the living room, saw her picture on the screen and started screaming, "It's me, it's me. I fell!" I said, "No, baby, you fell asleep on the floor." She gave me one horrified look and said, "Oh my God." I think that describes it all.

My 2012 resolution

2011-12-30T04:47:00.000-05:00

I am not big on lists, even though I should get into a habit of making them. I don't think I have ever written down my next year's resolutions, which I mentally make about every other December. Being as disorganized as I am, half the time I forget to make them in December and end up scrambling first week of January or not doing them at all. I decided to break away from that habit, and actually document what I wanted to achieve in the coming year. There were lots of important things, such as paying more attention to the kids, becoming more organized, losing weight, ridding oneself of guilt. It would include not only the goals, but the important milestones and ways of achieving them. It would've been a very good list, even if never followed.

Only at some point between thinking about it and writing all of that down, I got re-inspired by The Bloggess. I started thinking as to what was it that I really wanted in 2012? And I decided I wanted to feel happy. Somehow between taking care of my wonderful kids and a new bigger house and work and finances and all things that life threw my way this year, I forgot about being happy. It somehow slipped away, almost by choice. And yes, to be happier I need to become more organized, lose weight and feel that I am a better mother than I am now; I know that it won't happen by itself. But the main focus should not be on the steps to happiness, but on happiness itself. And if it requires not only taking care of big stuff, but doing silly things that brighten up the day? Well, I am up for that challenge!

I will try my best to silence the voices telling me that once one declares the intent of being happy, all kinds of hell breaks loose. Because I need to be happy, and if I don't try, I never will be.

Therefore, there is only one resolution on my list this year: 2012 should be the year of being

Furiously Happy!!!

Wishing everyone happy, no, furiously happy and healthy 2012!

And if you never read Bloggess, I suggest adding this to your list of resolutions!

(Jenny Lawson, The Bloggess, being furiously happy, which could be hard to see because she is wearing a wolf. But she is, trust me.)

Wolverines!!!

Where I admit to being a musical Grinch

2011-12-30T03:52:00.000-05:00

I think my relationship with jazz music has been well documented on this blog. I don't like, at all, in any way, shape, or form, period. The only music I dislike as much as jazz is Christmas themed music. Unlike jazz, I do not object to Christmas music out of my musical sensitivities. On the contrary, it all begins rather lively and teeth-grinding-free around Halloween, when every station in the nation (even those who only yesterday were advocating to "Tie Your Mother Down" and taking a "Highway to Hell") starts playing Christmas music. However, at some point in early November I realize that I am listening to the same 10 songs again and again, day in and day out, and that's how it's going to be until December 26th. And it looks like it simply cannot get worse, musically-wise. Seriously, folks. It has nothing to do with religious intolerance on my part because if I had to listen to my the Best of Queen album all day long for two months, I would most likely develop a strong dislike for classical rock. (No, that's blasphemy and will never happen, but you get the point.)

Well, remember how only in the last paragraph I said that things couldn't get any worse, and of course I was wrong? Well, it was also well documented that I have a cubicle neighbor with a penchant for jazz. I don't think I have ever heard him play Christmas songs. And now, after months and months of torturing me with Norah Jones and the like, he decided to try something new and tuned into one of those stations that play nothing but those ten Christmas songs. Only there was a different spin on them. They all sounded jazzy, i.e. incredibly sad and depressing. Why did the singers sound so sad if "it's the best time of the year"? Even Jingle Bells sounded like a story of two forlorn lovers separated by cruel fate. Yes, this was as bad as it gets.

I have been waiting for December 26th this year like I have never been waiting for it before. It meant the end of musical torture and the beginning of auditory freedom. I hoped and waited only to be laughed at by cruel fate and radio DJs. Folks, it is now December 29th, and Christmas songs are still playing almost nonstop in my neighbor's cube. Is there an end in sight? Only time will tell. Yet I learned another valuable lesson: it could always get worse.

Sub-cry for help

2011-12-29T01:23:00.001-05:00

Co-worker, looking in my trash can: Wow that is a lot of candy wrappers!
SubWife: (evil glare)
Co-worker: No, really, that IS lots and lots of Milky Way wrappers!
SubWife: Apparently, not everyone is eager to see 2012...

Is the guy is suicidal and that was his cry for help? Should I get involved? Let me ponder this over chocolate; I've heard sugar helps brain activity.

P.S. Pointing to someone how much chocolate they have consumed takes the "fun" out of the fun size candy. Really.

Sub-Cake or where I pretend that I can bake

2011-12-26T12:09:00.001-05:00

It is Chanukah, so naturally I am blogging about Sukkot, when I took the whole 9 days off, we had our own sukkah this year and had been expecting friends over for dinner. Suddenly I found myself in an unusual position of being able to experiment with food and having volunteers to be experimented on. (Unlike my family, guests couldn't opt for cream cheese sandwiches at the sight of unknown food.) It was a perfect opportunity to try Suburban Correspondent's upside down cranberry cake. It had everything I was looking for in a recipe: it was easy; it came highly recommended; it had cranberries in it; and being from Suburban Correspondent, it had a potential for good blogging fodder.

Honestly, I don't know why I keep bothering with the last requirement. Firstly, life keeps on throwing blogging fodder my way ALL THE TIME. Fodder that would make you laugh, cry or remain uninterested - I have it all in my life. If only I blogged about it. Which would be, "secondly." Probably because I have so much fodder thrown my way, I can't find time or energy to produce a readable blog entry. Actually, any entry.

But there it was, in all of its perfection - easy, tasty, cranberry-filled cake with high potential for blogging fodder. I was sold. That night, after I made three gazillion side dishes, soup, main course or two and a super hot pepper dip, it was finally time for cake baking. SubHub, exhausted from watching me cook all night, slowly made his way into the kitchen only to restart the conversation we have been having for the past 8 years.

"Wow, what a mess." "Yeah, I know. I am almost done," I replied. Then SunHub followed with a friendly suggestion I heard only three hundred times before, "Why don't you clean up as you go along instead of leaving it till the end when you are so tired?" "The counters ARE clean," I countered. I'll spare you the details of this dialog because it deserves a post, if not a book, of its own. That time it ended with SubHub taking a mercy on his hapless wife and washing a few pots and pans. And, as the genre would require it, SubHub went off into the sunset feeling he had performed his duty and saved him damsel in distress.

The next day I, after the guests at SubCasa were souped and main coursed, was about to serve the dessert. Fortunately, I had enough sense to try the cake before ~~experimenting on my guests~~ serving it. The first cranberry I tried tasted a bit off. "Wow," I thought, "those are some spicy cranberries." This phrase was also off, so I repeated it again and again in my brain before finally realizing how crazy it sounded. Spicy cranberries? I took a big bite of the cake and felt my mouth on fire. To my credit, I must say I never blamed the recipe or Suburban Correspondent. Or SubHub, even though everything that goes wrong is his fault. Unfortunately, not that time. I had no one but myself to blame. I tried to retrace my steps on the night of baking. The only logical explanation I had was that the knife I had used for cutting up very spicy peppers for the dip was also used for cutting up margarine for the cake. I knew I washed it, with soap, but apparently that wasn't enough to get rid of their aftertaste.

So I went in, fessed up to everyone who would listen, from the guests to the neighbors, about the importance of cleaning the knives after very spicy peppers. We had a good laugh, at my expense, ate jello or lollypops or equally horrific backup dessert, some of the guests probably vowed to never eat in my house because I couldn't even wash my cooking knives properly.

A few days later SubHub, while chowing on the very spicy cranberry cake, fessed up that during the clean up time he found a small quantity of unidentified goop on the otherwise clean counter, right next to the pan with the cake, so he just threw it in the pan thinking it was dough, or lemon peel, or something that truly belonged in the cake. Which we now, of course know, to be the ground up super duper spicy peppers. "It's not even that spicy, I don't know what all the fuss is about," said the man who finds jalapeno peppers mild.

And I learned several valuable lessons, the most important of them that it is always husband's fault. Even if all the evidence points in another direction.

Is the sooner always the better?

2011-10-10T02:41:00.001-04:00

For the past four and a half years, since my now 7 year old daughter started attending nursery, I am puzzled by some aspects of American educational system. In particular, I do not understand the need to start as early as required. I might have blogged about this before, but as my now second child is in preschool, my perspective has not changed much, quite the contrary. The more I see and know, the more puzzled I get, and the firmer I believe that something is seriously wrong.

A bit of a perspective. I am a product of a Soviet educational system. From everything I know, Soviet system resembled most educational systems in Europe. We started school pretty late by American standards - 7. While there was 1 year of preschool, it was not mandatory (though most attended). The preparatory for school work consisted of the last two months in the year teaching us how to use glue and scissors and count. That was about it. A good number of students - and my pool might be a bit skewed as I went into a specialized school with children more academically gifted or who had well connected parents - have been taught at home how to read before they started first grade.

In my case, I have absolutely no recollection when and how I learned to read. I just know that I could some time around 6. The family tradition states that it was my grandmother who taught me during a summer vacation I spent with her. I am stressing the point of not remembering learning to read to point out how painless the process was. I am sure that if it had been very hard, I would have some recollection, as I do about other things, which happened at the same time of my life. Funny enough, quite a few people with the background similar to mine, also have no recollection of learning how to read. I am hardly unique. Those who learned how to read at school, did this rather quickly. Alphabet was introduced in September, and by winter time we were reading stories. Those who had problems reading were just reading slower than expected, not unable to recognize letters or sounds they made. By the end of the first grade, everyone could read, albeit at different speeds. Being an avid reader was source of pride.

Now enter American schooling system. The mandatory age of school enrollment in the state of New York is 5. Being enrolled in some form of preschool since 3 is almost universal. And while in the USSR all we did at that age was playing in the sandbox and having story times, here a three year old is starting a serious preparatory work of getting ready for school. Abilities to sit (one of the most important skills here), listen, pay attention, hold a pen or pencil properly, and draw within the outline get stressed all the time. This is also the time when alphabet and numbers are introduced. Among many other topics. Being ready for school is stressed beyond belief to the parents of the 3 and 4 year olds. Child's inability to recognize letters at 4 is considered a major problem. And I can't blame pre schools for being overly ambitious because schools expect this level of preparedness from kids as young as 3.

And I know this from the personal experience. My daughter started learning alphabet before she turned 3. At four she went to a pre-school, affiliated with the school of our choice. She had a hard time sitting through a circle time. She had a hard time memorizing letters. The concept of a letter representing a certain sound was very hard to grasp for her for the first half of the school year. My very bright, independent daughter was a candidate for being left behind. Eventually we realized that the problem lay not only in my daughter's ability, but also in the teaching style. (The teacher, in her all-American attempt not to discourage the child, gave the same cute reaction to both right and wrong answers. So DD, who at home had a 90% success rate in letter recognition, could barely recognize half the letters when asked by her teacher. The kid figured that being wrong was cute, and cute is important to many four year old girls.) I knew there was nothing wrong with our child. After all, I did not recognize letters at 4 either. Nevertheless, we went through the entire evaluation by the Board of Ed, at the teacher's recommendation, only to hear from every specialist that the child is either hitting her milestones or exceeding the average.

At the same time, I started doing some independent research on the net. I had looked over many, many articles on child development, and none of them listed letter recognition as an important milestone until 5, most were listing the age of 6 and 7. Quite a few thought that most children younger than 6 are not developmentally ready to be taught alphabet, and introducing material too early is not only of little benefit, quite often it is harmful. I am talking about articles written by child psychologists, not entries by mommy bloggers like myself.

So what do we have here? Child psychologists feel that teaching how to read (and write, and count) before the age of 6 is useless and potentially harmful. Parents who are frantic that their child is an educational failure even before the child starts first grade and consumed with guilt that they haven't done enough to prevent this. Children who are stuffed with material they are not ready to comprehend at the expense of playing and spending time outside of a classroom. So why do schools and the Board of Ed are pushing reading so early? What is the rush? Who is gaining from this system, which is ill-suited for everyone involved?

As I said, I often ponder that question. When I see my 5 year old son having a hard time with alphabet, and every night we do homework reminds me of Lenin's "One step forward, two steps back." When I hear my co-worker describe the horrors of doing math with his otherwise very able 5 year old daughter, who simply cannot grasp the concept of addition just yet. When I see how my daughter, who not only caught on, but is now one of the best readers in her class, is not attempting to read anything on her own, beyond classroom assignments. When I hear and read the same complaints from parents pretty much anywhere I go: shabbat lucnhes, PTAs, afterschool acitivities, blogging or Facebook. When I calculate that the skill it took me and my peers only months to acquire, is taking my children 3 years on average. When I wonder whether high school drop out rate has anything to do with starting too much and too early and killing the interest in learning before it has a chance to develop. When I hear that the Board of Ed once again stresses the importance of 3 R's and considers standardized tests and introduction of these subjects at an even earlier age.

P.S. I am not trying to put down the entire American educational system here. I am also not trying to show Soviet system as the ideal. G-d knows, there were many things in that system I wouldn't want my children to experience. What I am suggesting is following our children's best interests and educating them at the good time for them. For some kids it would be learning to read at home, because they are ready earlier than their peers. For most, starting later than 4. Much later. And what should they do in preschool between the ages of 4 and 6? Let them play in the sandbox.

For sale: SubWife, integrity included

2011-10-04T01:44:00.001-04:00

I am currently thinking of ways to sell out, or to be more precise to make money off a blog, this blog or any other. The problem is I do not know how to do it. I know that the best way to attract traffic is to blog about topics that can interest people or in which one has expertise. The only expertise I possess is in the field of not for profit accounting. Even if I do generate some traffic with exciting topics such as "The pros and cons of half year convention in depreciating assets" and "The schedule of functional expenses: truth or fiction?" what can I possibly advertise/sell in conjunction with this? Coffee? Or a device that every five minutes starts yelling, "Wake up, CPA! You are on active accounting duty!"

So far I am considering affiliate relationship with sites like Amazon. Which means I might be reviewing things I buy there. Which I do in real life, a lot. And I would never give falsely positive review for monetary gain. Unless it's huge, but what are the chances of that happening?

Sigh. I don't like combining business and pleasure, but in this instant business might actually push me to do more blogging, which I like, but somehow put on the back burner for many reasons.

Thoughts? Should I dedicate a separate blog to this? Or keep doing it here and scare one reader that still remains?

Busted

2011-10-03T03:40:00.001-04:00

My cover was blown last week. A piece of advice to those who blog anonymously - decline the "remember password on this computer" feature. Because one day your husband's computer wiz friend may come to your house to help with some computer-related thingy and discover that you are Subjugated Wife. And he may do this in front of SubHub, who is not big on self deprecating humor or jokes at his expense. And even though SubHub may know for years the name of your blog and associated with it email account, etc, etc, etc, he may still not be 100% comfortable that his wife calling herself "subjugated," albeit semi-publicly. And SubHub may be even less thrilled with his friend now knowing that you call yourself "subjugated."

If are lost by now, I don't blame you. It was, I mean it could potentially be an uncomfortable mess. And then you may find yourself mumbling things like "tongue-in-cheek" and "almost inactive," while quickly excusing yourself from their company.

Now that I've typed it, I am wondering whether this is being read by The Friend and whether I should edit it. And while it wouldn't bother me one bit if some man in Timbuktu reading this blog accidentally finds out my real name, a real life acquaintance finding out is a completely different story.

So now I am faced with several options. 1) Abandon this blog. I doubt, with my blogging activity of the past year, anyone would truly notice. 2) If I were to do #1, that would probably mean abandoning blogging altogether in the foreseeable future. Even though my readership is very small, at least I know that a few people are still reading it. I don't have the resources to invest in the new blog. I don't have time to either regularly write or work on increasing readership. And I am not above admitting that blogging into the empty void does not appeal to me. I know, vanity. 3) Pretend that nothing happened. Which is probably the most accurate description of the event. After all, The Friend came to help and had no intention to snoop. As I have found out on a few previous occasions, I am not as anonymous as I thought and hoped. And I doubt that The Friend would run around putting up posters all over the 'hood identifying me. Or even if he did, it very unlikely would stir any interest or would result in public recognition. But ~~a girl can dream~~ stranger things have happened, that's for sure. (I am still wondering whether The Friend is reading this right now and whether this post can cost SubHub a friendship.) So even though the whole thing might be in my head, it already is affecting my blogging. 4) Feeling relieved that finally my secret is out and I no longer have to hide is not even an option for reasons that include Jewish guilt, Soviet upbringing and others that are too complicated and more appropriate for other media, such as a case study for Psychology Today.

So there, I am thinking. Knowing myself, I would not post anything for the next 3 weeks or months, and by the time of the next post, would forget the whole thing. But then again, stranger things happened.

(And if you have this song stuck in your head for hours, you can thank me in the comments :)

DS scissorhands

2011-09-25T02:46:00.001-04:00

It was back to school time at SubCasa the past couple of weeks. New teachers, new classes, new supplies, lots and lots of shopping. Even tears, lots of tears. But not from the kids; unlike their mother, they are troopers. What can I say - I am a worrier. I worry about everything. And my children's future worries me. And I worry that DS's third year in school might be the year that will break the proverbial camel's back (not that I think he is a camel, but his two previous years in schools - two different schools - left much to be desired). And, upon finding out that DS didn't get the Hebrew teacher that would be a perfect fit for his personality, I broke down. DS worries me. A lot.

And then there's secular studies teacher whom I still didn't get to meet. Hopefully soon. Actually not. Hopefully no sooner than the PTA. But with whom I had already conversed once.

SubWife: DS, how was your school today?
DS: Good.
SW: How was your English teacher?
DS: Good.
SW: Do you like her?
DS: Yes, she came again. (DS sounded a bit surprised that she came back. What did he do on the first day of school???) She is very nice. She said she will call you. (He is so naive, he thought it was a good thing. Ah, the innocence of the young.)
SW: Oh...

And she did. My mind raced through all possible scenarios of what a 5 year old could have done to deserve a phone call to his parents on the second day of school.

Turns out the whole thing was over nothing - DS gave himself a hair cut in class. The teacher called to apologize. She really was very nice and very capable of dealing with DS. She was amazed at how well I took the whole thing - and yes, I did notice the new haircut before the phone call. She just didn't know about 1) what kind of possibilities I had running in my head only several minutes before the phone call and 2) that DS gave himself a haircut only two months ago and we got used to his bold spots and uneven bangs. She also mentioned that it was not uncommon for kids to cut their hair when given scissors, but in all her years of teaching, it has never happened "in the first week of school."

So basically, we got a WINNER! A CHAMP! Where do we collect the medal?

My psychomusical disorder

2011-09-05T02:26:00.000-04:00

There are times in my life when I feel so overwhelmed with whatever happens to overwhelm me at the moment, that I frantically start searching for ways to express my frustration Healthy ways. Mostly.

I have yet to come across a piece of literature, with which I have found immediate connection; that upon reading it I felt that awesome revelation that "yeah, finally, I have found someone who gets it, who feels exactly like I do only with significantly superior writing skills!" Maybe I did as a teen and forgot, but I think experience that groundbreaking would be something to remember. Music, on the other hand, is totally different. I find that it speaks directly to the soul, especially the hurting soul.

Normally, my tastes in music are pretty old fashioned: classic rock and classical music. Wailing damsels in distress are not my cup of tea (Yes, I am speaking to you, Norah Jones. (And a side note within a side note - I am totally taking the page out of the Bloggess' book and attempting a blog war with a celebrity. Yes, Norah Jones, I am still talking to you. And I am also breaking all the rules by putting parenthesis within parenthesis, for which I will get an eternity of grammar lessons with a Jesuit professor in my afterlife. Wolverines!!!)

BACK FROM THE SIDE NOTE: Neither am I fond of screaming till they are hoarse male performers. Yet in the times of my own distress I found myself drawn to Janis Joplin, Amy Winehouse, Meatloaf and some other, rather uncharacteristic musical choices for me. Listening to THE SONG that for some inexplicable reason speaks to me NOW, I feel as if I am becoming one with the song, and somehow this feeling makes things better, if only for a few hours.

Today was one of those days - not terrible, but frustrating - when I found myself frantically searching YouTube for the perfect expression of my mood. (I am sure that this disorder will soon by identified by AMA, and I humbly request that it is named after me.) I failed to found one. My beloved Queen's "I want to break free" and "Going Slightly Mad" seemed to lack frustration. Meatloaf was not loud enough. P.O.D. just too full of life. "Comfortably Numb" made me want to get drunk, and so full of promise "Dazed and Confused" still didn't do the trick. Have I reached the time of my life when rock just doesn't do it?

On the bright side, I haven't listen to so much music in a long, long time. And discovered in the process that I am not so desperate that I would give Norah Jones a try.

You might never look at my gefilte fish the same.

2011-09-04T03:46:00.000-04:00

With great sorrow I must inform you of the passing of our beloved Goldie Sub. She was a good goldfish. We took good care of her, but she lasted only a day longer than last year's goldfish. She passed away three days before the kids noticed that she was gone. Yes, she was that precious. DD burst into tears upon discovering of Goldie's untimely demise, to be quickly joined by her brother, who I, quite honestly, thought was doing it just to keep his sister company. Later on, over HoneyNut Cheerios, those two had the following conversation:

DD: But we took such good care of Goldie. Why would she die?
DS: Yeah, why would she die?
DD: How could she do this to us?
DS: I know!
DD: I had to work so hard and win so many games to get her!

The kids have progressed to the anger stage. Though I still think that DS is angry just to keep DD company. But overall I think they'll be fine.

I, on the other hand, am wondering: who are these cruel people distributing goldfish - without any care instructions - to preschoolers, knowing perfectly well that 95% of those fish will die within a week. I am afraid that my anger stage might last much longer than my kids'. Seriously, camp folks, can't you just stuff those kids with painted sugar instead? Or at least send along some goldfish recipe?

Where I manage to spoil more than one movie ending

2011-06-26T21:20:00.000-04:00

Spoiler Alert! As the title suggests, I will spoil the ending to Gosford Park. Also, as one might deduce from the title of the post, there will be other spoilers. If you are a fan of criminal investigation series, you should consider yourself warned.

On a friendly suggestion, I embarked upon watching Gosford Park. All in all, not bad. The problem? Absolutely predictable ending. Not because of the overused plot line, bad acting or any movie-making fault. Simply because of the casting. One MUST know that if Helen Mirren (or any other actress of her caliber) is cast in the seemingly secondary role, there will be a big revelation about her character, which would explain why Helen Mirren would agree to play it. The longer the movie goes, the more shocking the revelation. In the case of a mystery movie, the longer this "something" is not revealed, the more likely Helen Mirren's character is the murderer.

The same goes for criminal investigation series. The more famous the guest star is, unless he is quickly killed off, the more likely he is involved in the murder. For example, the minute I saw Sheryl Lee in Lie to Me, I knew she would be the evil wife of a nice and honest politician. Otherwise, they would cast a complete unknown.

Which kind of sucks. Because these actors end up being the victims of their own fame. Too bad. Because their acting would never give the ending away.

Go to sleep, sweet little baby, go to sleep....

2011-06-12T04:05:00.000-04:00

Yes, yes, I do remember posting something about posting more often. Right around that same time my youngest decided that sleeping is for suckers and now refuses to do it. Seriously, it seems that this child is never going to sleep normally again.

She has been going to sleep relatively easy for months. There were weekly or sometimes twice-weekly occurences of not falling asleep until 10.30-11. (I normally do not let them cry it out and would take the kid out of the crib after about 5-10 minutes of crying.) There were also episodes of her waking up in the middle of the night - fully alert - and not going back to sleep until 2-3 hours later, which usually meant climbing all over me and demanding attention.

But I believe - and don't quote me on that since after having three kids my memory is gone - it hasn't ever been as bad as it is now, with any of my kids. Take today, she had gone to bed at 3 a.m. And only because hubby went to bed at around 2 and that's when she finally broke down and settled for the (keeping my fingers crossed) night. I had attempted to put her to bed three or four times prior; all of these attempts ending in her very loud screaming.

We have tried various things. We tried to let her cry it out, which I personally hate. After several hour and a half screaming sessions, with screaming getting progressively louder and louder every ten minutes, we had to take pity on our neighbors, our nerves and our child and end the sessions. Seemed like all that screaming didn't make her tired even one bit. Eliminating daytime napping did nothing. Once, after sleeping for only 6.5 hours the night before and no daytime nap, this child still wouldn't go to bed at night until 12.

It is now at a point where she would only go to bed if at least one of us is in bed, preferably both, and even that is no guarantee of success as I usually conk out before my head hits the pillows and she climbs out soon after. If we do manage to put her to sleep before us, she wakes up in the middle of the night and climbs all over me, saying "Mommy, mommy," which could mean anything from being thirsty to requesting my hand over her body to being bored. Yes, sweetie, I am aware that entertainment options for toddlers at 4 a.m. on a weeknight are very limited.

Needless to say, the nighttime sleeping battles leave little time for blogging or simply unwinding. It could all be a mental handicap, but I simply cannot do chores effectively or relax at night with the little one still on the loose. So I end up begging her to go to sleep.

So what was the point of this post? Getting this off my chest? Posting something? Getting HELP?!!

What were they thinking

2011-05-31T00:50:00.001-04:00

I'm on Weight Watchers. Again. Unofficially. I start every Monday since the end of Passover, only to fall off the wagon by Thursday. Recently I have become even more efficient and some weeks last only until Monday night.

I am persuaded it is not my weak will, but faulty WW system. Seriously, let me walk you through this. The allowed daily food points are allotted based on current weight and work like this: you starve for a few weeks, drop some weight, hopefully, and as a reward you lose one point worth of food for every ten pounds lost. Imagine the horror of losing 60 pounds!

What were they thinking? Where is the incentive here? If WW offered unlimited cheesecake or ice cream or eclairs or preferably all three, I could see myself following through. Otherwise, it's like I starve only to starve even more once I lose the weight? It's like you get punished and not rewarded for actually following the diet. Why would I do that?

Love letter to one's own blogging

2011-05-30T00:32:00.000-04:00

Goodness, I miss blogging. I didn't realize how much until about a week ago. I really, really miss it. It might sound pathetic, but, for reason poorly understood even by me, it was an important part of my life for about two years. And old habits die slowly. At any given time I am compiling a post or two, at times coming up with a rough drafts, but, as you can see from the recent activity, the posts rarely materialize.

I guess many things are at fault here: turns out that as children grow older, they need me more, and not less; the immediate gratification of Facebook, which I vowed not to use not so long ago; discipline and organization required for regular posting - among other things - has almost completely disappeared; dwindling comments, which I see in any other blog I regularly read; discovery of Dancing with the Stars by your truly, among some other shows. (Yes, Maxim Chmerkovskiy, I blame you for he downfall of my blog). Overall, it seems that only half of the blogs on my Reader have posted an entry in the past six months, and only a very few still post regularly. Pretty much everyone has reduced the frequency of posts. Is there something cyclical about blogging, or is blogging dying?

Well, I hope not. Because as pleasurable as The Body of Proof is (and I really mean shirtless Maxim Chmerkovskiy - I can practically smell excommunication) (OMG, that was so unintended, I really meant Dana Delaney's show, and it could've just as easily been Lie to Me or Parks and Recreation), the satisfaction of wittily written post, even if no one comments on it, is far superior. And, as a wise person have advised me, one must nurture the inner self. In my case, it's writing, no matter how poorly it is done. So I am making yet another attempt to revive my blog.

Wish me luck.

10 resons why life with arthritis is so good

2011-03-13T21:40:00.000-04:00

1. You get to use medicine named after the guy who is either happy in an old-fashioned kind of way or very comfortable with his sexuality.

2. Rubbing Bengay in your eyes is fun to watch for those around you. You, on the other hand, can't watch yourself being funny because - well, you have Bengay in your eyes.

3. After all the pain, the only thing that keeps you going is the thought of lamb kabob at your Dad's birthday party. After doctor's visit you find out it's off limits.

4. So is stinky cheese.

5. And beer.

6. Carpal tunnel in right hand and arthritis in left, make sweeping the floor an unforgettable activity.

7. You get to relive your childhood by having your significant other dress you in the morning.

8. You finally have a fair chance at competing with 60+-year-olds in getting a spot for Celebrex commercial.

9. If you got $1 for every time someone said you are too young to have arthritis, you could afford all those Celebrex co-pays!

10. At least it's not lupus!

Dedicated to the Fashion Week, Tommy Hilfiger and Nice Subway Strangers

2011-02-12T23:50:00.002-05:00

It's Fashion Week in NY. Did you know? I only found out this Thursday under peculiar circumstances...

My closet ate two of my skirts and countless number of tops. It's true and it can happen to you if you are not vigilant and stuff your closet with everything: from bags of old clothes prepared but never quite given to donations to ill fitting shoes you are not ready to part with to confiscated toys. Somewhere in between the bag of unmatched children's socks and an old pillow are my missing clothes. But to find them, I would need to organize my closet, so for now I am doing without.

The absence of skirts coupled with the fact that quite a few of my other skirts have salt and snot stains on them - winter, I know you are here! - resulted in having nothing to wear one fine Thursday morning. Frantically going through every piece of clothing I own and rejecting them one by one - snot, too small, too summery, too dressy, salt, snot, yogurt, snot, too small, wore just yesterday, damn it, I should've left 5 minutes ago!!!!- I finally came to a piece that resulted in a "maybe". It was kind of summery, somewhat ill-fitting (yes, I gained weight like I do every winter ~~and summer and fall~~ ) and a jumper to boot, but running 15 minutes late made the "maybe" piece a winner. In retrospect I realize that even my closet exercised a better sense of fashion by refusing to consume this jumper. But maybe my closet just got overly fastidious, after all it was Hilfiger!

Despite my unseasonal garb, the entire day went just fine. Going back to work, the subway was overflowing with people, but I don't think that it's fair to blame my jumper for it. As I squeezed myself between two people who insisted on standing close to the doorways, I came standing right in front of a seated guy about my age. "Asian," I thought, so I figured that I had about 50% chance of getting his seat at Delancey, only three stations away. Yes, racial profiling in NY subway system is so rampant, it's appalling. As I was shamelessly calculating my chances to get his seat, our eyes met and he uttered the unicorn of subway phrases, only few of the riders claim to have heard and scientifically proven to be non-existent. "Would you like a seat?"

I was caught a bit off-guard. I was not pregnant - did he know something I didn't? - or sick or elderly. But then my instincts kicked in and I said, "Sure! You are being awfully nice. Thank you." "He must be getting off next stop," I told myself. He did not. I stubbornly pushed away the obvious. "He must be a REALLY nice guy," I thought. We passed Delancey, and my benefactor was still standing only a few inches away from me. I looked at my jumper, my protruding stomach and remembered slightly greenish tint on my face from watching Interny till wee hours the night before; all the dots connected and I could no longer deny it. "The nice SOB thinks I'm pregnant." As this thought entered my mind, I glanced to the left and saw my neighbor studying pictures from the Fashion Week shows. "Is it Fashion Week? Again? (Sigh.) I am so out of vogue. (Deep sigh.) I bet this fashionista would never wear a jumper that made her look pregnant, " I sulked.

And then another thought entered my mind. "Too bad for her." I got a seat in an over-crowded subway car. Half of those well dressed fashionable women were getting killed by their high heels and poked in the ribs by neighbors' elbows. And frumpy and pregnant looking me was comfortably sitting. Right then and there I made a decision to upgrade the jumper to an all-season regular. With that thought I peacefully drifted off to dream about fashion, jumpers and Interny.

Quote of the month - February 2011

2011-01-31T21:18:00.003-05:00

This is more appropriate when the elections will heat up, but I re-discovered it today, so I am posting it now.

Cколько правды в глазах государственных шлюх.

Юрий Шевчук

Rough translation, "There is so much truth in the eyes of political whores." Y. Shevchuk

Finally, update

2011-01-21T01:52:00.004-05:00

Remember how I was gushing in the not so distant past about finally finding movies hubby and I both enjoyed? Yeah, scratch that. Turns out that after seven years of marriage, I still haven't learned how to interpret certain words, phrases and body language of my significant other. I mistook his hearty laughing for, you know, enjoying a comedy. How could I? But I feel it was an honest mistake anyone could have made, well, anyone married to SubHub that it.

When the initial shock - and I am hardly exaggerating - wore off, I had asked him what exactly was wrong. Turns out, nothing in particular. He was just "disappointed". I pressed for details, but alas, couldn't squeeze much more than I already did. Hence, I am left to guess. Was it the lack of depth in acting? Could the actors not convey the deep and conflicting feeling of their characters the way Pluto did when he was stripped of his "planet" status? Or was the plot not as intriguing as the M Theory? The suspense is just killing me. And if I wasn't able to tell a difference between him liking and disliking comedy, is it possible I had misread some other things? (Insert an obligatory joke about SubHub regularly faking it because I won't make it as a sacrifice on the altar of marital harmony...)

And now instead of hope in finding common entertainment, my heart is heavy with invisible and unproven black matter. Yes, we've been watching "Universe" again, how did you guess?

Sub-learning disability

2011-01-20T21:14:00.003-05:00

DD burned her hand yesterday. Nothing major, but definitely not pleasant. She didn't even cry, and now I know why. She was nursing an evil plan in her cute little head.

DD: Mom, could you please write a note to my teacher that I cannot do my reading homework tonight because I burned my hand.
Me (stifling a laugh): But sweetie, you don't read with your hand.
DD: But I need to point!

Evil, I tell you, in Tiger Mom terms. Me? I'm proud, in a way. It was inventive!

Finally!!!

2011-01-18T21:25:00.003-05:00

It only took seven years of being married to find a bunch of movies that both me and hubby can agree on watching together. There are a few he will compromise and watch with me (You've got mail), there are some I would compromise and watch with him (Independence Day), up until recently we have found only 2 movies both of us could watch without feeling that one of us had to give in - How to Steal a Million (still praying it won't be remade, ever) and Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. Most other times, we end up with "Elegant Universe", "Universe", "Life on Mars", you get the picture. After watching so many of these, I feel like I personally have witnessed the formation of our moon.

A few weeks ago we were looking for a movie for our in-laws, when we stumbled upon a collection of old French comedies. We finally found something we both enjoy! (We are no polyglots, these movies are dubbed in Russian)

So far we have seen three movies. One was pretty good, Les Comperes, one so-so, and the one we saw last night was just great. (I believe it was remade in the US, but so far I haven't seen a single decent remake of a good French comedy. So many of great movies have been completely ruined or just turned into an easy to forget mediocrity.)

Hubby and I both adored the movie. I highly recommend. And the vet steals every scene he's in.

We better find something else, real soon. Because I have been spoiled now by these movies and the thought of another "universe" movie makes me want to cry.

Eternal hope

2011-01-03T21:20:00.004-05:00

While DD was out of the house, DS got into her candy stash, almost completely destroying it. Well, it wasn't that big to begin with, but still. Upon DD's return, I informed her of the terrible loss that befell her. DD, a generous and forgiving spirit, had the following conversation with her brother.

DD: DB, you can't take my candy without permission!
DS: I am sorry.
DD: This time I forgive you, but don't ever do anything like this again. (This child starts sounding a lot like her mother. Poor kid.)
DS: Okay. (momentary silence). You got more candy?

No, I don't think he was thinking about asking permission this time either.

The home wrecker

2010-12-06T23:48:00.005-05:00

Below is a cautionary tale of one woman's quest for health and fitness, her downfall and subsequent conclusion that exercising is evil. (No, wrecking home does not refer to her physically falling and destroying her home because she's so heavy. That's what Burger King is for.)

One of the things I had promised myself this year was to exercise more often. That's when I came across Kathy Kaehler's book on fitness and how to incorporate it into our busy lives. I had no idea who Kathy Kaehler was or that she could wreck my home, but the book was only $2 used, had good reviews and covered topics I was interested in. Apparently Kathy is a personal trainer to many Hollywood stars and regularly appears on the Today show. So if you read this book, follow it religiously, in about 70 years or so you will look like Jennifer Aniston . Or not, but I don't think by then you'll care.

I kind of like the book; it has some interesting, but not groundbreaking ideas. I am still upset that reading the book on fitness doesn't automatically make one fit. Seriously, what's up with that? I paid my $2, where are my buns of steel? But moving on. (By the way, does that count as moving?) The book was written over ten years ago, so I decided to check out whether Kathy has her own website and whether she shares some newer ideas there.

Well, little did I know that this innocent act of satisfying curiosity would ultimately bring my downfall. Of course Kathy has her own website. She is still alive and well, trains celebrities and has a few workouts on her website for the obscure people of the world. Somehow, I ended up clicking on the wrong thing and all of a sudden my computer started BLASTING the message from Kathy about exercise during stressful times. Yeah, I can use some tips on dealing with stressful times. And then it started, the beginning of the end. Turned out stressful time = considering DIVORCE, being in the middle of DIVORCE, being post-DIVORCE, and never been married, but still freaked out about the possibility of DIVORCE. Out of the first 30 words out of Kathy's mouth, 20 must've been DIVORCE. I tried to lower the volume, but wasn't quick enough. SubHub entered the living room, a bit shaken up and freaked out. He didn't say a word, gave me THE LOOK, then turned around and left.

So now, five days later, SubHub is still labeling everything in the house as "mine" and "hers", just in case, and has an emergency bag packed up, also just in case. (Okay, that is a joke. JOKE!) And I learned a very important lesson. Exercising never produces healthy results. Look where it got me, and I only attempted to start!

Thank you Kathy Kaehler for wrecking my home! I will be sure to turn to your exercise videos in my time of "high stress," which might come thanks to you.

Are you talking to me?

2010-11-07T21:35:00.007-05:00

If one reads enough of mother-oriented materials, a few common themes emerge: disciplinary problems, staying home vs. working, breastfeeding freely vs. bottle feeding without prejudice. One will also find that there are themes that are either rarely or almost never covered. Which boggles my mind because I am sure I am not the only going through these issues, but rarely would I find something in parenting blog or magazine on the matter.

But back to the recurring themes, because there's one that has been bugging me for far too long. I am sure you are familiar with the story: the alpha woman gets pregnant, alpha woman decides that her career is too valuable to abandon, something bad/terrible/sad happens or she sees the light and the alpha woman decides to slow down, reduces her hours/finds a job with more life/work balance and the alpha mom, her spouse and her offspirng are all happier than they ever were. Lesson learned: money is not everything, career is not that important, large house/fancy car are not equal substitutes for sanity, happy balance is the best.

Well, here's my beef with this story. I work, and I work full time. I work with all kinds of women, many of whom are moms. I have seen only one alpha woman that fits the description of the story in 12+ years I am in professional workforce. The rest of us? We are not doing it for kicks, or because career is so important to us, or because a 5 bedroom mansion is just too small for our family of four, or because that second Mercedes doesn't pay for itself, you know. We do it because we have to and more often than not we have no other choice.

Every time I read about suggestions to scale down the spending so that I can stay home or work part time, I want to grind my teeth. We don't buy, but rent. Eating out less would mean growing my own vegetables. Our case is by far not the worst. Most women work because their husbands' earnings alone wouldn't pay the bills. End of story. More ironic is that even with two working adults many people financially struggle.

And then I hear the famous line about working part time. Really, the best of both worlds, right? You work a little, make a little money, see more of your kids. Yep, agreed, the best of both worlds. If you don't need full income from your job. If your employer won't scale down or take away the benefits due to reduced hours. And here's the biggie: if this option is available at all. Most employers are very reluctant to allow present employees to scale down on their work hours. If they do, they often reduce the pay, but not the workload. In case of layouts part timers are often the first to go. And being allowed reduced work week requires constant negotiation and re-negotiation and living with the threat of it being taken away. And that's when one already works. Finding a new part time job with decent pay and working conditions is almost impossible.

But that doesn't stop these articles. And suggestions about making do with less. Or reminding us that children are more important than careers and the precious time we spend away from them cannot be made up later. And the first steps/words/milestones we miss cannot be done over. As if I or any other working mother wasn't painfully aware of that. Who are these people writing for? Some clueless, oblivious to their children's needs, insanely successful but still pretty dumb career women? If these people exist in nature, how many are there to warrant that many articles?

The origins

2010-11-05T00:58:00.004-04:00

A few days ago I was passing by my Indian co-worker, Pinter. (Pinter is not his real name and he is not married to Sue Ellen Mischke.) He was eating lunch at his desk, but upon seeing me, motioned for me to come to his desk. Turns out he ordered a kosher falafel from one of the new kosher places near work. Somehow, every time someone non observant or not Jewish on the floor orders kosher, they feel the need to share this with me. I don't mind, I find it peculiar, but cute. Though I do feel somehow responsible if their meal does not meet their expectations.

This time, I could breathe with ease because we had a very happy customer. Pinter was widely smiling and asking me whether I had tried falafel from the new place. "It's very good,"declared Pinter. He described in detail the contents of his pita and commented on crispiness of the falafel balls. "It tastes just like falafel I had growing up." I had no idea that falafel was known in India. I was sure that the dish was of Middle Eastern origin, and also vaguely remembered a conversation with another Indian co-worker where falafel was mentioned, but as a newly discovered food. I was about to unleash all of my thought process on the poor Pinter, but something made me proceed with caution.

"Did you mother make falafel from scratch?" seemed reasonably safe.

"No, we usually bought it." How odd. I think his falafel was getting cold because I could sense the anxiety in Pinter's voice. But I couldn't let go. I had to find out which provinces in India were privy to the secrets of falafel making. Look, I never finished - ok, even started - War and Peace and must fill in the blanks in my primary education.

"Did it taste the same? Was it also in a pita?" I pressed on.

We got back on Pinter's favorite subject, I guess, though I am not sure whether it was his childhood or food, because all of a sudden he started reminiscing completely forgetting about the danger of the perfectly crispy falafel balls turning soggy. He described in great detail the falafel of his childhood, which oddly enough was very similar to the one he was eating right now. Then he seamlessly switched to other memories from childhood and finished with, "We were the only Indian family on the block." Waaaait a minute. What???

And then it hit me. I completely forgot that Pinter was born and bread in Boro Park, the heart of Jewish Brooklyn. He must've told me this a hundred times... Next time I talk to him, I must not forget that he lives in Monroe and does not commute from New Delhi... It would also be nice to bring the guy sufganiyot come Chanukah time. He must miss them like crazy...

I always suspected they weren't quite human

2010-11-04T21:43:00.003-04:00

DD: DS, let dress up as people!
DS: Yes, let's!
Me: Aren't you people already?
DD: (exasperated) No, like different people.

Yep, that's what we have at home. Different species aka children.

They get their own day now?

2010-10-21T01:06:00.002-04:00

The editors at iVillage produced a study in anticipation of Mother-in-Law’s Day next Sunday. The study found that 28% of women reported a “terrible” or “bad” relationship with their hubby’s mom. And when it comes to kids, the feelings were even stronger — 76% said they would never seek parenting advice from a mother-in-law. 83% said they would never ask for relationship advice from their mother-in-law, and 94% wouldn’t seek advice on their sex life from her.

The question that I have is who the heck are the 6% who would seek advice on their sex life from the MIL? How does one broach the subject? Why would one assume that husband's mother possesses some privileged information in this area? Would you have to report back the successful implementation of advice? The questions are numerous, and they are all very disturbing.

Ewww.

A spare one to keep in the trunk

2010-10-09T23:31:00.005-04:00

There's an ongoing joke in our house about me being purchased by SubHub for $60 at the time of our wedding. Meager $60. If you take into account that $60 was the selling price of the wedding band, NOT what he paid for it, SubHub got a very good bargain. But like with any too good to believe deal, there are some minor (or major) defects in the product. I say, still a good investment; he says, he should've asked for buy 1, get one free deal. He's Sephardi, you see. But I digress...

Last week I overheard SubHub on the phone. "You should make sure she's soft, but sturdy. Hairs should be silky, not hard. Try pulling them, they shouldn't come out. Hold her in your hands, she should feel comfortable. Don't get a cheap one; they are more trouble than they are worth."

So naturally I am wondering whether SubHub was doling out dating advice. I wouldn't put it past him. The only thing that's troubling me - SubHub thinks the guy should pay around $10, not much more than that. I thought I was the cheap model. Am I that easily replaced???

P.S. For those overly concerned with women's rights, SubHub was giving advice on buying a paint brush. And referring to brush as "she" because they were conversing in Russian.

You are only as old as your kids make you feel.

2010-10-09T23:07:00.004-04:00

I'm too traumatized for the proper intro.

Today:

Me: Kids, why don't you play in pretend daycare? You could pretend that your dolls and bears are children. DD could be Miss E, DS could be Mr. C.

DD: (enthusiastically) Yeah!!! And Mommy can be Sandra!

DS: Yeah, Sandra!

(The kicker is that Sandra is a cleaning lady in their daycare...)

Me: (trying to salvage the situation) Why Sandra? Why can't I be another teacher?

DD: Because only old people can be Sandra. Sandra is much older than Miss E, and all other teachers are younger...

Yes, sweetie, nice save! Sandra is only 20 years older than Mommy... If you click on the link, you will detect a pattern here.

Nonsequitors

2010-09-26T22:57:00.005-04:00

1. I guess one way to avoid getting spam comments is to not write any new posts, so there, you spammers, I win!!! Sort of...

2. The holidays here are progressing, one more week, and we are done. On the one hand, sad (holidays, excitement, guests!!!), on the other hand - too much togetherness does not make the kids better behaved, the heart grow fonder, mosquitoes less agressive or a waist line to shrink.

3. I am afraid we scared off the one guest we managed to lure into our sukkah :(

4. Sukkot was and still is my favorite holiday, hands down. For the past couple of years, for reasons beyond our control, enjoying it became very hard. This year, however, for the first time in three years, I got my Sukkot back! Almost literally. It also came as a surprise, quite pleasant at that!

5. I am declaring October a scream-free month, parenting wise. Anyone care to join?

6. I need to write this one because if I don't, I won't have 7 points, and the Universe will stop making sense or exist in the way we know it. OCD much? Oh, shut up! (It's not October yet and you are not my kid, so I can yell if I want to...)

7. I wish I could say that after the holidays I will be back to my original programming, but for a few months before holidays there was no original programming to speak of. I guess priorities change, responsibilities take over, and FB is very, very alluring and time consuming.

Ok, happy rest of the Holidays to all those who celebrate! (Oh, no... Does this count as #8? O.M.G. I do not want to wake up in tomorrow's Universe.

Yours truly,

SubWife.

Aren't we all human?

2010-09-04T23:08:00.003-04:00

DD and I were still on the subject of human beings today. Progress is slow in SubCasa, what can I tell you. This morning she asked me, "Mommy, are we all human beings?" To which I replied, "Yes, we are," thinking she was talking about SubFamily. DD was more globally oriented, and asked, "We are all human beings? Even boys?"

I didn't have the heart to tell her the truth - that the jury is still out on that one - plus, this is something she should figure out on her own. So I quietly nodded while her brother was busy combining hanging upside down with bothering the baby, throwing down toys, making wild noises and destroying something, over which he would endlessly cry only five minutes later. "Yes, sweetie, even boys." DD is pretty bright, just reread her question if you need proof. Do you think she bought it?

No issues with setting boundaries here...

2010-09-01T21:35:00.004-04:00

My baby is (finally!) starting to talk. She now regularly and clearly says 5 words, and not so regularly and only semi-clearly another 5 or six. But her unclear vocabulary is growing every week. However, should I be concerned that out of the "regular and clear" five, two are "no" and "no way"?

The one where SubWife is too tired to come up with a title

2010-08-30T22:16:00.003-04:00

A few weeks after one of my soliloquies on the topic of "Mommy is also a human being and thus needs to eat, sleep and rest" (if you insist, no I am not proud of it), DD and I are talking about her camp. DD is telling me about one of her counselors, and I inquire, "Is she a young girl? A teenager?" To which DD replies, "No, she is a human being."

Hell hath no fury like a baby scorned

2010-08-10T20:57:00.002-04:00

Our baby finally started to walk. Yay for us!!!

A few weeks ago the following happened: she would make two steps and would plop back on her tush. And she would do this over and over and over again. In the middle of this exercise her brother picked up a toy she was playing with and made a run for it. Baby got visibly mad and screamed. The she got up, made her two standard steps, shook a bit unevenly, held her balance and made two more steps. No, she did not catch her brother, but she set a record!

And also sent a clear message: nobody puts the baby in the corner! Or takes her toys away. Unless they can make more than four steps, but she's working on it!

A day at the office

2010-07-28T23:07:00.005-04:00

Today I got a refresher course in business ethics and office conduct. Here are my findings/reminders:

1. a) Craving a drink @ 10.30 am is not a good sign.
b) Chances are, it will only get worse with every passing hour.

2. I don't care what Ms. Manners says, some emails must remain ignored and unanswered. Or printed out and burned. But still unanswered.

3. a) Getting into a fight with your boss is not a good career move.
b) Winning said fight is even worse.
c) Letting your boss walk all over you is not good for your career either.
d) Whatever you decide, you are screwed.

4. a) Spitting in your adversary's coffee, no matter how justified, is not considered professional conduct.
b) Too bad.

5. a) When it comes to work, have no loyalties except to yourself.
b) Because your "teammate" can turn on you in a matter of seconds for reasons known only to him.

6. a) Venting feels good.
b) Unless your boss overhears you venting.
c) About him.

7. Being "proactive" and "thinking outside of the box" are concepts for department meetings/pep talk only. When it comes to actual work, doing it SALY is encouraged, preferred and expected.

8. a) Learning to know when to shut up is priceless.
b) Never learning it is more entertaining.

9. Remember, you are an accountant, not a brain surgeon. Don't take your work so seriously. Nobody outside of accounting department does any way.

10. a) If you want that drink - 10.30 or not - just get it.
b) Those who say 10.30 am is too early for a drink must have never had a bad day at the office.

You can't always get what you want

2010-07-25T22:46:00.004-04:00

There are times when one wants something very, very much. It seems good, right and almost perfect. And then it doesn't work out. For days, months and sometimes even years, one might wonder why that thing never materialized. And while one will never know the real reason for why, at times G-d in his mercy gives one a glimpse of what would have happened had that thing ever come into being. And then one sighs a deep sigh of relief, counts one's blessings and murmurs to oneself, "That was a close one."

Today I got one of these glimpses into the possible present/future. So now I feel a huge surge of gratitude because:
1. If I got what I wanted then, it more likely than not would've made me very, very miserable. For a very, very long time.
2. I could've been left guessing about "what if" and "if only's" for the rest of my life - but I wasn't. That chapter is closed. I am extremely grateful for the sense of closure.
3. Hopefully, when next time I won't get what I really, really want, remembering this will soften the sting of disappointment.

Die, spam, die!!!

2010-07-17T23:42:00.003-04:00

So after getting quite a few spam comments, I caved in and did something I absolutely hate doing to those few who leave comments on my blog. I find it very annoying to have to enter word verification when I leave a comment on other blogs. However, I felt I had no choice as spam was starting to get out of hand. Well, to make long story short, it didn't help.

I keep on getting spam comments. Sigh. It looks like the only options left are either ignoring spam or moderating the comments. Moderating I like even less than word verification because I can only moderate late nights from home, which kills discussions of any sort. (Though those haven't been happening lately, hmmm....)

Any ideas out there? Any preferences from my 4 loyal readers? Please leave a comment though you'll brave the word verification for that, which is still on.

You just can't win.

2010-07-13T02:05:00.004-04:00

So there I was thinking that I am doing this great thing for my family by force feeding them fruits and vegetables. Turns out - I was stuffing them with pesticides. If you are too ~~lazy~~ busy to check out the link, here's the list of the produce containing the largest amount of pesticides:

Celery

Peaches

Strawberries

Apples

Domestic blueberries

Nectarines

Sweet bell peppers

Spinach, kale and collard greens

Cherries

Potatoes

Imported grapes

Lettuce

Incidentally, this so-called dirty dozen represents about 90-95% of all produce that we buy. I remembered reading somewhere that farmers' market produce, even if non-organic, is usually lower in pesticides, so I visited one such market. I did expect the prices to be higher, but didn't expect them to be that high. Given that we already spend significant amount of money on this on a weekly basis, I just can't afford to triple that amount. And if I go organic - forget it, I just can't. So what do I do? Stick to avocados and grapefruit? Or do I still serve this chemical laden stuff?

Ugh!!!!

Equality, my aunt Fanny

2010-07-01T21:14:00.004-04:00

It occurred to me recently that if I were a man, I would make a darn good husband. I make a decent living (not great, but decent), am not obsessed with my career and value family time much more than earning points with my bosses. In addition I do 99% grocery shopping, 90% of the cooking and laundry, 100% of getting up to the kids in the middle of the night, do fun stuff with children, pay the bills, get kids ready for school in the morning, set up all appointments, talk to the teachers... I even clean sometimes! Yes, there's an issue of not being able to use any tools or fix anything in the house, but I think the above qualities would more than make up for this shortcoming. Any woman would want to marry me!

While as a wife I am very much mediocre, if not worse. My cooking and baking are decent, but nothing out of the ordinary, my organizational skills are sub-par and my housekeeping skills could make a grown man cry. And I don't make up for these shortcomings with good looks or sunny personality. I am lucky SubHub puts up with me.

Sometimes life just doesn't seem fair, does it?

10 thing one shouldn't do on 4 hours of interrupted sleep

2010-06-24T21:26:00.004-04:00

1. Climb Everest - may trip and fall.

2. Take a hot bath - may fall asleep and drown.

3. Handle dangerous equipment or substance - may maim oneself.

4. Argue politics - likely to lose patience and get into a fight.

5. Make jokes - you almost certainly will misjudge how risque the joke is.

6. Perform open heart surgery - if you are a surgeon and I need to explain this one to you, please surrender you license, ASAP.

7. Write a blog entry - ahem, they are not as funny.

8. Drive - driving drowsy causes just as many accidents as driving under the influence of alcohol, 'nuff said.

9. Do housework - no serious danger unless handling dangerous substances, but seriously, go get some sleep and clean tomorrow. It will be there tomorrow as no one will do it for you anyway.

10. Parent .

'Till death do us part.

2010-06-20T20:17:00.004-04:00

Upon discovering that the home made muffin he was eating was made out of whole wheat flour:

SubHub: Whole wheat? Are you trying to kill me?
SubWife: No, I am actually trying to prolong your misery.

Apparently swift death is better than long life with me, since I was asked for the next batch to be made from bleached all purpose highly processed white flour, chocolate chips and lots of hydrogenated oils.

(Photo courtesy of www.allrecipes.com)

Baby Pollock

2010-06-13T21:37:00.009-04:00

Baby is trying to assert her independence and refuses to be fed. SHE WANTS TO DO IT HERSELF!!! NOW!!! This new development (actually not so new, I am just behind on blogging) limits the foods we can give her as she clearly cannot feed herself with a spoon. Yogurt is out. So is cottage cheese. And soup. And apple sauce. Or any kind of jarred baby food. If she gets her chubby fingers on edibles of this sort, anything within a 3 foot radius can and will be covered in the mentioned above food.

But her food adventures don't stop here. With fruit and berry season upon us and limited access to other art supplies, Baby explores her artistic side with whatever she can find on her plate. Her technique needs some improvement, as it mostly consists of taking fistfuls of berries and smearing them all over herself and her booster seat; on the other hand, something similar worked for Jackson Pollock, or am I mixing him up with someone else? (Original title of this entry was baby Warhol... Thank you wikipedia for setting me straight.)

Exhibit A: White is so boring! The booster seat obviously needed a touch of color. Enter blackberries!

Exhibit B: Who picked these clothes for me? Let's add a drop of avocado to bring out the pink in the shirt and blue in denim, shall we? (Note from Baby's future editor: It required special dedication to get avocado on her knee. I am still wondering how she had done it while being strapped in a chair with a tray table over her lap.)

Exhibit C: Baby in white - sitting in her white booster seat covered in yogurt could not have been located. That should add value to it upon discovery.

Exhibit D: Inspired by Lady Gaga, baby covered in red raspberry tidbits and juice. Since raspberries stain like crazy, photo op has been canceled in favor of Baby's clothes preservation.

I have a feeling that Baby will get a strong following after this post. Let me assure you that we are ready for fame, so don't hesitate to contact me for the piece of Baby's art. Our prices are not cheap, but fair given the talent we are dealing with here. To her critics I have this to say - hold your horses. She is still a young and developing artist, and I assure you she is working on her smearing technique DAILY! Let's pray that SubHub and his penchant for neatness won't squash the budding talent here.

More of that jazz

2010-06-08T21:03:00.005-04:00

About six months ago I've made a huge mistake. No, I did not develop a crush on Will Arnett. What would give you that idea? (Will, if you are reading this, leave a comment!) I had done something much, much dumber. In a casual conversation with a co-worker, who happens to be my cubicle neighbor, I have mentioned how much I hate listening to jazz, especially the one featuring female singers who are sadder than the sight of a terminally sick puppy and life without love combined. (Norah Jones, I know you are reading this and sweetie, I just cannot reciprocate your adoration for my talent. Nothing personal, but the year you won Grammy was one of the musically hardest for me.) Anyhow...

Guess what? Any office drone with a few months of work experience and an ounce of common sense knows what happens next. Almost immediately the guy starts listening to jazz. Featuring women who lost their will to live, but not their desire to ~~whine~~ sing about it. Nonstop. All day long. Very loud. Whine, whine, whine. Making me lose the ability to form full sentences.

However, I strongly believe that whatever happens, happens for a reason. To combat this auditory assault, I listen to my iPod, which has music on it only due to SubHub's kindheartedness ~~and faulty earphones~~ Due to the ~~incredible laziness~~ circumstances beyond my control I just can't ever find time to load anything on my iPod other than a few parenting lectures. At some point in the past, SubHub discovered the sad state of my iPod and took pity on me loading several Sting albums. (Sting, if you are reading this call Will Arnett, I've heard he's a huge fan!) SubHub also swiped my earphones in the process, but who's counting, right? So now, every time my musical nemesis turns up his volume, I take my iPod out and - miracle of miracles - my heart immediately fills with love for my husband. Who knew torture could be good for marriage? (Masochists, don't answer that.)

This stronger bond with SubHub, though, does not deter me from endlessly Googling "how to sabotage HP speakers without getting discovered."

>

Now this is the jazz I can listen to!

No matter how you look at it....

2010-06-06T01:40:00.004-04:00

DD, DS and I are on our way from the park. Kids are happily talking to each other, when DS suggests, "I am Kipper, DD, you are Arnold, and Mommy, you are Pig." DD, "No, I am Kipper, you are Tiger and Mommy is Pig." They went about it several ways, but either way I ended up being Pig.

Clearly, I am Jake. On the other hand, Pig makes one mean chocolate cake :)

PSA: skirt length and public transporation.

2010-05-26T21:14:00.006-04:00

This is a public service announcement coming from your local prude.

Ladies, when you wear skirts that don't cover you knees while sitting down, you are exposing a lot more than you think. Those skirts almost always ride up and leave very, very little to the imagination. So little that anyone sitting across from you will know the color of your underwear. If that is the desired effect, then knock yourselves out. I would bet, however, that most of the women are clueless about this. They think that their skirt is not showing more than desired because it's not that short and covers the knee when standing up.

I could be wrong, of course, and in the age of bikinis no one cares about this. However, personally I would be petrified if I found out that half the F train car, filled with strangers with whom I ride pretty much every morning, has seen a whole lot more than I thought or cared to show. And would want someone to tell me.

So there.

Do as your mother does, or maybe don't.

2010-05-24T20:54:00.005-04:00

Supper in SubCasa, and mac'n'cheese is on the menu. DD is playing with a string of cheese. I am putting a fork in my mouth and for some reason macaroni on my fork lose balance and start to fall off. At the same time SubHub, who is not paying attention to me, notices DD with her tongue stuck out trying to catch her string of cheese and says, "DD, why are you playing with your food? Do we eat like that? You should see how you mother eats and eat like her, " just as I catch macaroni with my left hand and quickly shove them in my mouth, the entire handful in one shot. OK, I never claimed to be perfect. SubHub did.

Hopefully back

2010-05-23T20:36:00.004-04:00

Wow, it's been this long. Life just gets in a way of blogging, I guess. This past month children ~~and FaceBook and the discovery of Arrested Development~~ have been taking up more of my time than usual.

We interrupt our current programming to give you the following message. While I was typing the first paragraph, my baby got into her butt cream and tried to eat it for supper. True story. I wouldn't mind much because I, even after two kids before her, I still haven't figured out what to feed a toddler who only has eight teeth yet eats more than my 4-year-old and who is too old for baby food yet too young to eat regular supper with us. However, butt cream is $18/10 oz and never goes on sale; hence, I object. Generic vaseline, however, is another story... So yeah, that's why I shouldn't be blogging, like, ever, or my kid will end up with irritated bottoms and a mask of zinc oxide on their face.

So it would be very natural to dedicate this post to my kids, but I won't. Instead I will stop right here because the baby is finally at this cute to the nth degree stage that won't last forever, and I just can't miss it for blogging! ~~I could, however, miss it for Facebook or Arrested Development.~~

Why are we doing this again?

2010-04-22T00:19:00.001-04:00

Thoughts brought on by acute hunger while being on Weight Watchers:

Damn, I shouldn't have lost those fifteen pounds - I would've had another point.

Yeah...

The SubOne who laughs last laughs best

2010-04-13T22:44:00.003-04:00

SubHub needed new swimming goggles. Since the kids were still on vacation, he took them with him to Modell's. According to SubHub, there was only one model of goggles, and since he was desperate he bought whatever they had. Those goggles, which were replacing sleek and good looking pair, were huge and covered half his face, which made him look like a cross between a geek and a pilot. When I came home from work and saw him try those goggles on, I must've laughed for five minutes straight. I could barely catch my breath.

SubHub took this reaction stoically and was not at all surprised. He said that kids reacted in the same way when he tried goggles in the store. The older two were rolling on the floor and the baby attempted jumping out of a car seat. "Do you know what they said when they finally were able to talk?" asked SubHub. I had no idea.

"Papa, you look just like Mommy."

Ahem.

Que Sera Sera

2010-04-11T21:32:00.003-04:00

Was asked today by DD who found out that she cannot marry her brother.

"Mommy, when I am a kallah (bride), who is going to be my chassan (groom)?"

If only we knew, sweetie...

I believe (?) I can fly...

2010-04-06T23:15:00.003-04:00

Passover is over. With it comes some sort of sadness, but this time it's not for the holidays that are over.

It's probably no secret to anyone who knows me or who reads this blog that my housekeeping is lacking and my standards are kind of low. Not terribly low - while working full time, we almost never eat take out, husband and children have clean clothes, dirty dishes are not piled up to the ceiling and the house is habitable- but not very high. Some chores get postponed for months if not years. I never feel this more acutely as before Passover. As most of my friends are busy spring cleaning, I settle for some mild form of decluttering and basically Pesach cleaning my living room, dining area and kitchen. I don't believe that Passover should necessarily equate to spring cleaning and have very good reasons for not doing it during that time. After all, I am an accountant by profession and the months of February through April happen to be pretty busy for us. However, with Pesach there are some deadlines that one must meet. When spring cleaning is done on one's own schedule, well, it kind of never gets done. At least in one shot.

So what's up with sadness? This Passover I made a commitment to 1) rejoin Flylady AGAIN and try to stick with it, 2) to keep my dining room table, kitchen counters and sinks clean at all times. Sounds like not that much, right? Only that I found myself washing dishes and wiping counters almost nonstop all the time. I mean it - except for the times when we ate/slept/went for a walk, ALL THE TIME. And that's only part of the kitchen and dining area! Towards the end of the last day, I gave up and left some silverware and cups unwashed. But I have done it all the other seven and a half days, and have housewife's eczema to prove it! The most annoying part? This kind of forced me to neglect kids' room a bit and when I walked in today, I found a mountain of clothes piled up on the rocking chair. How??? And in only two days???

That's when the sad realization hit me. Basically, if I want my house neat at all times (not just when kids are in bed and no one actaully appreciates semi-neatness), I will never be able to really rest or do anything other than clean. There will always be something else to do. And, while the house will most likely be much neater than now, working this hard is not a guarantee that it will be really neat. This doesn't sit well with me. At all.

So I am sad. And depressed. And finishing horrible Passover chocolate (it's Swiss, but the lowering of pure cocoa % actually makes it taste very cheap, though cheap it isn't) because tomorrow I am also starting Weight Watchers. And thinking that maybe my old self that didn't notice and/or wasn't bothered by disarray was better than the new/older me, at least for blogging and socializing purposes.

Ahh, I already miss holidays.

My annual Passover rant

2010-04-02T00:22:00.004-04:00

Last Sunday I went grocery shopping and picked up a brief guide to Passover products in the supermarket. I quickly leafed through it when one section caught my eye: baby food. This year, to my great disappointment, the only certified kosher for Passover baby food is some foreign made fruit mush with added sugar. This is the first time I have seen refined sugar added to baby food. So naturally I wanted to see what the guide would say about baby food, which was not certified and whether some of it would be acceptable to use during Passover.

It might have been the fumes from Windex during Passover cleaning or exhaustion or my natural working mother defensiveness, but one sentence, actually one word in that section, ticked me off real bad. I quote,

"Ideally, it is best to (gasp!) prepare baby food at home using a blender or food processor."

Guess which word (gasp!) @#$%ed me off?!

Gasp? Gasp?!!! Excuse me? I was not reading an article or a blog entry or an essay on the topic. For goodness sake, I was consulting some very simple product guide. How dare they gasp at me and all the other mothers who are looking to buy baby food? What the hell? I understand and respect their recommendation, but what's up with the attitude? I was looking for mashed bananas and butternut squash, not crack cocaine!

Here's the newsflash for those MEN who have compiled the guide: I am reading your guide to (gasp!) only find out which products I can and cannot use during Passover, not to subject myself to the your judgment of my mothering/cooking skills and definitely not to the pitiful attempts at sarcasm from individuals who not only (gasp!) never made baby food themselves, but probably wouldn't even know how to plug in a food processor let alone use one, (but whose mothers - no doubt - busy as they were with Passover preparations still found time to make their own baby food, so why can't the modern women?) Gasp...

Here's another newsflash: if I (and all other women you are gasping at) made my own baby food - as I often do - all the time, as well as other products that I am perfectly capable of making myself instead of buying ready made, your kashrut certification revenue would greatly suffer. So would your employment and ability to come out with sarcasm- laden guides.

So here's a suggestion: when you prepare next year's guide, you will think about the last time YOU (not your wives) made baby food, how much you contribute to Passover preparations (vs your mothers and wives), how much you need your organization to generate revenue and raise contributions, and then make your buying recommendations for kosher consumers respectfully and (gasp!) keep your gasps to yourself? And if your compulsion to gasp overtakes you and becomes unbearable, you will express it in the blog post or - even better - in a private journal, away from exhausted female eyes?

Just a suggestion.

Then again, Windex fumes are thinning out, so I might look at this very differently a week from now...

Every breath you take

2010-03-23T00:17:00.006-04:00

Wowie wow wow! It has been almost three weeks since my last post! Wow! Time flies!

Well, this one will be short.

My obsession with home early pregnancy tests (EPT) had reared its ugly head once again, which prompted SubHub to utter one of his funniest lines ever. (Actually there were two lines, but I don't remember the first one exactly because the second one was soooo good.) He looked over my new super-multi-mega-pack-SubWife special edition EPT purchase and uttered, "Every time you pee, it costs us five dollars."

Little did he know that it's $5 on sale and including super-multi-mega pack discount...

(The first line - I think - went something like, "You know, you don't need a pregnancy test to pee, you can go straight into the toilet?"

So I declare this line to be the quote of the month! (or with the say my posting goes, it might end up the quote of the decade.)

I would like a side of air with that

2010-03-02T21:06:00.004-05:00

I met a friend whom I haven't seen in a while this past Purim. Amid the sugarfest that Purim inevitably becomes, we somehow got on a conversation about the evils of sugar and processed carbs. Her point was, if I understood correctly, that many health-related evils are directly or indirectly related to sugar consumption. In order to be healthy one must completely eliminate all refined sugar and simple carbs.

I am not a big defender of sugar or white bread. I definitely could stand to lose quite a few pounds and eliminating sugar would help. However, I am just not buying the theory that all the evil is rooted in sugar. (I will also admit that few things in life are as satisfying as a freshly baked still warm white bread with a cold glass of milk. So yeah, I am biased.)

On the other hand, there are many other theories that blame other foods for all the ailments humanity suffers. There are those who say that dairy is evil; others say that it's actually meat; then there are those who claim that the only healthy lifestyle is avoiding all animal-derived foods. It doesn't stop there. One of my colleagues, citing numerous studies, said that fruit is to be avoided because it is high in sugar and whole grain Cheerios is bad for you. It doesn't end here because there are evils lurking in the form of salt, caffeine, alcohol, hydrogenated oils, not to mention preservatives, pesticides, coloring agents and other man-made chemicals.

Where does that leave me, if I were to follow every advice? Initially I wanted to say "with spinach", but there's E. Coli, then I wanted to say "cucumbers", but someone told me that the seeds in those could be bad for some people. Then I thought of beans, but men - how much beans can one consume before becoming a menace to society? (The answer: not much.) So that leaves me with an empty plate and stomach. Which would make advocates of the very low calorie lifestyle very happy. But not me...

Full disclosure: the post was written while drinking fully NON-decaffeinated Irish Breakfast tea and home made raisin cookies most definitely baked with sugar.

8 Things I would like to tell our auditors

2010-02-22T21:18:00.005-05:00

I remember being a newbie auditor and a sense of terror I felt at my first few audits. That sense of terror was quickly replaced with being constantly overwhelmed by the amount of work and manager's questions and comments. That's why I am very surprised at how annoyed I am with our auditors this season. Let's make this clear - few companies like being audited, and we are no exception. Audit always generates extra work for everyone involved. It is a normal part of the job, however, and everyone tries to get through it with a sense of humor and in good spirits. This year, though, we have been blessed with a particularly "talented" bunch; everyone on the floor is grinding teeth. Hence this post...

1. Know your schedules. And their names. If accrued expense in not the schedule of vouchers paid during the year, that's because it DOESN'T BELONG THERE.

2. You are at a client. I don't know what the latest copy of In Style magazine says, but skirt (or pants) is not optional.

3. I can't prove to you that our subsidiaries don't have separate payroll accounts. The same way I cannot prove to you that dragons don't exist. You'll just have to take my word for it. AND REVIEW YOUR PAYROLL TESTING. You know, the testing you have already completed.

4. I don't care what your lead sheet says and why. You deal with your working papers, okay? and leave me out of it.

5. Whether the column is included in the total can be resolved by a simple arithmetic > the procedure involved while footing this schedule > the procedure you have already performed as part of your testing > the procedure that requires zero accounting background.

6. I don't care if you were a member of Beta Alpha Psi in college. If you can't find a balance on the bank statement, maybe accounting isn't for you.

7. I don't begrudge you stupid questions. I begrudge you the know-it-all attitude while asking them.

8. How many times can you ask the same ~~stupid~~ question? Please don't answer.

Real men do cry

2010-02-16T21:09:00.001-05:00

I took the kids to the doctor past Monday. Multiple shots were involved. Baby needed three vaccinations and a blood test, DS needed one vaccination and DD two. Since I took the kids by myself, I wasn't completely thinking things through. Otherwise, I would've made DS take his shot first. Alas, the baby went first and her crying and screaming made DS even more paranoid about getting vaccinated. But that's not what this post about.

As the baby was writhing and screaming and doctor and I were busy restraining her, all of a sudden we heard DS loudly crying. Before I continue, I must reiterate that DS is very macho, as macho as boys come; but there he was, standing in the corner, wailing, using his little fists to smear his tears all over the face. "I...don't...want...Baby...hurt or cry...please stop...no more shots..." Both the doctor and I were on the verge of tears. That is until we had to restrain DS for his own vaccination, but that is a whole different story.

I guess it is true then that underneath all that macho outer layer, there is a sensitive core trying to get out. I'll just try to remember this next time I have to deal with an adult macho.

Extremes meet

2010-02-03T20:50:00.005-05:00

I am becoming very, very, very seriously annoyed with the far right. Very. Very. Annoyed. It seems like one must adhere to the set of very particular beliefs in order to satisfy Rush Limbaugh & Co and earn one's right to be called a Republican or Conservative. Here are just some examples:

If one is pro-life, but is not opposed to the morning after pill - they are not Pro-Life enough, and even worse than liberals.

If one voted for McCain, but doesn't hate Obama, one is not Republican enough, and is ever worse than those damned liberals.

If one questions the was in Iraq , then one is an anti-American ingrate who cannot possibly be a Republican and thus is worse than the liberals.

If one opposes death penalty - for any reason, one is not a true Conservative and worse than the liberals.

And G-d help the one who thinks that Universal Health Care might be a good idea - that person is a lost cause, a Socialist and possibly a dirty anti-American Commie. Which is of course worse than being a liberal, but only marginally because all liberals are closeted Commies.

But here's what I find particularly ironic. I still remember the Commie times in Russia, and all of this - those who are not completely, 110% ideologically with us are against us/those who are not like us cannot possibly be patriotic/those who have different beliefs are looking to or already are actively destroying our beautiful country and must be the agents of the enemy - very painfully reminds me of those Commie times. Yes, there obviously are differences, but as far as I am concerned the extremes have already met.

The Mysterious Affair at SubCasa

2010-02-01T21:10:00.003-05:00

Okay, now after the badly written and depressing to boot post, something light and fluffy, courtesy of DS.

He has been asking me for a week to make cheesecake, and I finally obliged on Sunday. We all had a piece last night, and when DS asked for seconds, I told him that he could get another piece in the morning. Of course, the first thing he did upon awakening was to make sure that the cheesecake was still there. I was in my bedroom when bewildered DS stormed in there. "Mommy, the cheesecake got spoiled!" I thought he was referring to the crack in the cheesecake and hoping that DS didn't drop it in his attempt at cheesecake poaching. I rushed into the kitchen and didn't see any signs of foul play. The aluminun pan with the cheesecake was safely standing on the top shelf of the fridge. Then DS opened up another 9x13 pan and said, "See, mommy, cheesecake got spoiled! It turned into chicken!"

So you think it's funny?

2010-01-31T19:54:00.005-05:00

I was on the train recently when I overheard - and trust me, it was impossible not to - a conversation one young girl was conducting on her cell phone. She very excitedly was retelling how one of her friends got so drunk at some party that on his way home he was stopped by a cop driving in the wrong direction on the one way street. To make the story even funnier - for the girl on the cell that is - it was the street where the guy lived and knew very well. The guy was so drunk that he could barely answer cop's questions - the girl was practically giddy with laughter talking about it. At the end, since the guy was practically two houses away from his home, the cop let him go scot-free. At that point I thought the girl would pee her panties with excitement. "Can you imagine? So drunk blah, blah, blah, hee hee hee."

This was one of the very few times in my life when I had a very strong urge to either yell or shake or do something to a person I did not know at all. I didn't think that there were people over the age of 13 who thought that drunk driving was hilarious. It's as if we don't know how many people get killed or maimed by drivers like this girl's friend. I find it hard to understand why the cop let this guy off the hook. Hopefully, the guy learned a lesson, but if he didn't - I pray he doesn't injure anyone after another party and gets stopped by a cop who is a bit less generous towards people who are careless with health and lives of others. But I might be hopeful in vain because it seems that cops care more about giving tickets to sober drivers standing at the pump while dropping off their offspring at the nearby school.

I might be hopeful in vain because few weeks ago our neighbor's fence got knocked down by a car that swerved out of control. If this were summer, or morning, or week-end or late afternoon, there would be children behind that fence. I shudder to think about the odds of their survival if they were there. The words "zero to none" come to mind. SubHub ran out to see what had happened and to offer assistance to the driver. The guy was not injured, but was so intoxicated, he could barely talk. He, however, had enough presence of mind to flee the scene of the accident. He was later apprehended by cops who told SubHub and a few other witnesses that the driver of the car would most likely not be charged with anything since there was only property damage. How about the fact that he was drunk? The cop only made a face and let people know that he was too busy for trivialities like that.

I wanted to blog about this story before, but every time I thought about the girl on the train or overly forgiving cops, I would inevitably get angry. I want to know what the heck happened to all the tough laws against driving while intoxicated? What is their purpose if cops let people caught driving drunk go left and right? Do we only enforce them when someone gets injured? Seriously, what the hell?

And now with Purim approaching, I decided to post this. Because drinking and driving is just not funny. And definitely not in the spirit of the holiday.

Her name was Lola...

2010-01-24T22:49:00.004-05:00

SubHub came home a few days ago and told me that some guy tipped him off about a huge sale on paper goods. I wonder how the conversation even got to this point, but I could be wrong about male stereotypes and maybe some men actually are budget conscious and tell each other about the latest prices of chicken legs and TP. (Moshe, you are the only one I know.) But I digress.

The guy was perplexed by SubHub's cool reception of the news, so SubHub had to explain that we barely use paper/plastic goods. The guy was shocked. "So no disposables?" "Only cups." "No plastic plates?" "No, very rarely." "You MUST have a dishwasher?" to which SubHub replied, "..."

At this point I rudely interrupted SubHub's recount of the conversation with, "Yes, yes we do! Her name is SubWife!"

SubHub didn't find this joke nearly as amusing as I did. I wonder why. Then again, he didn't bring home any paper plates either.

There was once a dog

2010-01-18T19:13:00.003-05:00

This is one of the best cartoons I have ever seen and now I have finally found it on Youtube. There are English subtitles, which unfortunately don't do justice to the original, but there are that many words to begin with. Hope you'll enjoy as much as I did.

Consumerist stole my post!

2010-01-18T10:11:00.002-05:00

Ever wonder why baby products cost more - and often MUCH more - than their adult versions? And if there are no adult equivalents, then the one can be guaranteed to pony up a lot of dough for almost nothing. Examples? Just off the top of my head - baby food, formula, diaper rash creams, toys, children's books, clothing, shampoos, baby bottles, breast milk bags ... the list could go on and on and on.

On the other hand, this creates a bright business idea. Just add the word "baby" to your product - and voila! You can charge 30% more without any justification! Too bad, there's no accounting for babies, or I would get seriously rich seriously fast. Hey, there's an idea - Baby Accountant video series! Guaranteed to teach your baby how to count, use a spreadsheet, get comfortable with debits and credits, and as a bonus feature - how to defraud the government and your shareholders. We do not guarantee results, but if your baby doesn't show any interest in the above activities, he will definitely fall asleep!

Anyone willing to invest?

My Clueless/Die Hard moment

2010-01-07T21:06:00.005-05:00

A friend and a fellow blogger Sally Hazel had posted today about mixing up Ecuador and El Salvador in a conversation. Something very similar happened to me, and I was wondering how to turn it into the post, so now Sally gave me an excuse and provided much needed inspiration.

A few weeks ago I was having a highly intellectual (insert: sarcasm) discussion with a friend about news and hostage situations in particular, and the topic shifted to the Stockholm syndrome. We discussed it for about ten minutes, and I had referred to the syndrome by its name probably a dozen times. After I hung up, all of a sudden I felt the insides of my stomach getting cold. To my shame and horror I realized that throughout the entire conversation I had referred to the condition as a "Helsinki syndrome". Yikes! And the person with whom I was having this conversation did not correct me either and let me make a fool out of myself over and over again. Wonder if she was stifling giggles on the other line. (For the record, I am sure she wasn't because she is super nice. I am really blessed with good friends.)

And now for the extra credit:

Why would SubWife make such a silly mistake???

Before posting this, I decided to Google Helsinki Syndrome, just to make sure that such a condition does not exist. Ta-da! I found the answer and the person to blame it on.

It's HIS fault.

I blame Alan Rickman! I had watched Die Hard just a day or two before this conversation, and in that movie they had gotten their geography completely wrong and indeed referred to the Stockholm syndrome as the Helsinki syndrome. Here's the quote from imdb.com:

The Helsinki Syndrome mentioned in the film is a reference to the real-world Stockholm Syndrome. Why it was changed in the film is unknown. Coincidentally, the newscaster incorrectly informs his viewers that it refers to Helsinki, Sweden (Helsinki is actually in Finland, while Stockholm is in Sweden).

OK, case closed, SubWife not ~~completely~~ crazy, moving on with life.

DDT - You are not alone

2010-01-07T00:11:00.001-05:00

One of my favorites songs, which for some reason "speaks" to me today...

Would you like a menu?

2010-01-04T00:55:00.008-05:00

I discovered tonight, to my great shame and embarrassment (which I of course had to share) that the kid who had been whining and crying and finally screaming for the past hour (and waking up every half hour for 2 hours before that) was NOT doing that because she was a) teething, b) in need of a good burp, 3) in pain, 4) needed a diaper change, or 5) simply trying my patience. She, actually, was hungry, a fact obscured by her refusal to eat apples with oats, lukewarm acceptance of cottage cheese and a look of disgust and contempt she gave me every time I offered to nurse her. Turned out the kid wanted real food. She wanted chicken and wouldn't settle for anything else.

Her whining turned into giggles as soon as she saw me taking a chicken leg out of the fridge. Now that she had filled her little tummy with the food of her choice and once clean kitchen floor is covered with pieces of half-chewed chicken that were previously smeared all over her face in a fit of gastronomical euphoria, my little carnivore easily dosed off without rocking, holding, nursing or a pacifier. And I am still up, feeling like a horrible mother who deprived her child of nutrition.

One would think that after experimenting on the first two, things of this sort wouldn't happen with #3. Alas, that's not true, or I am somewhat motherly challenged. To my defense I have to say that a) I feel terrible, b) bothered by her lack of interest in solid food, I have searched Internet for a good portion of the day trying to figure out how much a 10 month old should eat, c) unfortunately (or fortunately) she is the only child of this age I encountered, mine or otherwise, who would rather go hungry than eat something she doesn't WANT (but likes at other times, just not today).

Fortunately (or unfortunately) she's #3 and guilt won't keep me up much longer.

Out of the mouth of the babe...

2010-01-03T13:23:00.004-05:00

DS, patting his ~~protruding ribs and concave~~ tummy after lunch, "I have a big tummy, just like Mommy and ___." There were quite a few other names, but I won't mention that...

Currently trying to decide whether to multiply this year's goal for weight loss by 3 or by 4. Baby steps are obviously not working.

How do they do it?

2009-12-23T20:23:00.003-05:00

I decided to conduct an experiment, and now wish that I hadn't.

I am sure that almost - if not every - woman can relate to this. There are certain jobs that one would consider essential to the normal functioning of the household, and almost inevitably they fall on the woman of the house. The funniest thing is, no matter how essential and/or easy these tasks are, if you, the woman, don't do it, it doesn't occur to anyone else to do.

So this was my experiment. I have noticed one morning that both toilet paper and tissues were finished in the bathroom.

I wondered how long would it take for someone to do something about it? To my shock and dismay, no one had bothered to change the roll, asked me for help or simply mentioned anything. So BY THE END OF THE DAY I gave up and changed the roll and refilled tissues.

All is right in my universe now.

And then I had a nagging question - how the heck did they manage all day???

I am afraid to ask.

She's got it

2009-12-22T23:54:00.004-05:00

My parents took the kids on Sunday for a few hours. As part of the treat, they all took a bus. DD sat with Mom, and DS sat with Dad. At some point during the ride, DD asked Mom, "Grandma, do you have a baby inside?" Mom, already immune to DD's remarks, replied that she didn't have a baby inside. To which DD replied, "Bub Mommy does! She told me." Mom kept her composure, and once everyone got off the bus, Mom asked DD to repeat the entire thing to Dad. Dad must've ~~turned a shade of green~~ shown less restraint than Mom because all of a sudden DD said with a giggle, "Just kidding!"

Ok, one kid got a sense of humor. Two to go.

Day off/relaxation the SubWife way. Don't try this at home...

2009-12-16T21:12:00.000-05:00

7.30 - wake up. Discover that the baby has a 101.5 degree fever. Ugh.
7.30 - 8.15 - Get the kids, who woke up half hour before us and are already wild, ready for school all the while juggling whining pre-Tylenol baby. DS has a Chanukah play, so I need black pants and white top. Something I completely forgot about yesterday. So I settle for brown pants, blue shirt and blue/white vest.
8.20 - Last minute decide to get a ride from SubHub to the supermarket, so dress myself in 2.5 minutes - not bad for winter, huh? - though do have for some time a nagging feeling that I forgot to brush my teeth.
9.10-10.05 - food shopping
10.00 - 11 - driving class (Yes, you are reading this right, I was 5 minutes late)
11.00-11.30 - go to the bank/additional food shopping
11.30 - 1.15 - DS's Chanukah play
1.15 - 2.00 - went to the liquor store and pharmacy with DS on the way to home. Must've repeated the line, "No I can't buy it for you, please don't touch anything" 50 times. Had to distract DS from tiny liquor bottles as he reasonably thought those were for babies.
2.00-3.30 - feeding DS, unloading groceries, cleaning up.
3.30-4.00 - walking to pediatrician with the baby and DS.
4.05 - reunited with DD and SubHub at the pediatrician's office.
4.00 - 5.30 - at the pediatrician with all 3 kids and - thank Heavens and SubHub - SubHub. The main reason for the visit is to give all the kids flu shots and catch up on baby's other shots.
5.15 - Informed that due to baby's fever she won't get ANY shots and thus the visit must be repeated preferably sooner than later because who needs flu shots in the middle of January? (Why couldn't she spike the fever tomorrow? Sigh)
5.20 - Informed that older kids' swine flu shot needs a boost in about a month from now. So the whole, "Please don't destroy the good doctor's office and YES, that includes the very expensive scale, telephone and medical equipment." will be repeated sooner than I would've wanted to or expected.
5.25 - SubHub asks the good doctor for the used syringes, she obliges and this time we don't get the "did you think about rehab" vibe.
6.00 - HOME at last.
6.00 - 7.00 - making supper while juggling supervision of baths, brother- sister fights, doing homework with DD, fighting organized attempts at illegal snacking all the while juggling whining baby whose Tylenol already wore off.
7.00 - 7.30 - supper with whining and at the same time incredibly wild kids.
7.35 - SubHub has had enough and sends the kids to sleep. As long as he gets to be the bad guy, I might as well enjoy...
8.00 - Unbelievable, but they are both asleep.
8.10 - 9 - enjoying peace and quiet, writing this post while eating cold soup.

And the day is not over yet since cleaning up/laundry/tons of other stuff must be done.

I wanted to finish this with the cliche of looking forward to relaxing day at work tomorrow, but towards the end of the post I must admit - it was fun! Tiring, annoying, crazy busy - but overall fun day! I so wish I could stay home with them and have more of these days... (Note to the Al-mighty, please don't interpret this as a hidden desire to be laid off...)

Quote of the month - December 2009

2009-12-03T23:03:00.002-05:00

Was cleaning up my work email when found an article about some Australian city mayor inviting foreign women to his town full of single male miners. There was one quote there about the pool of prospective mates: the odds are good, but the goods are odd.

I loved the quote and, therefore, promote it to my quote of the month.

However, I still love the quote from Third Rock from the Sun, so I keep it too.

The last - summarized

2009-12-03T20:41:00.003-05:00

I have been asked in the comments to yesterday's post to summarize the article about Dr. Hern, the last provider of the late term abortions in the U.S. Initially I said no, but then relented since he probably represents 30% of my audience...

The author of the article describes what it is like to do what Dr. Hern is doing. He draws a very vivid picture of a man, his reasons behind choosing his occupation and staying there despite all the hate and death threats he has been receiving for DECADES. While one might disagree with Dr. Hern's political and world views, one fact remains very clear - he is the last one in his field in the U.S. When he is gone, there probably won't be anyone willing to replace him - because of the death threats he, his employees, and family members receive on a regular basis and because of contempt from colleagues and even patients(!). While I am the first one to admit that I do not agree with the reasons some of the women choose to abort late term, BY LAW these abortions cannot performed on a "whim" or for the woman's convenience after 24 weeks of gestation. Something MUST BE WRONG either with the fetus or the mother. Those are not the cases where the woman wakes up one day and decides that she no longer wants to be pregnant.

The articles leaves off on the following questions: if a woman's life is endangered by pregnancy and the last late term abortion provider is gone, where will this woman go?

(This really is not the best summary and I would highly recommend reading the article itself and do more research on the subject. There are other options available in critical situations, but discussing them is well beyond the scope of this summary.)

The last?

2009-12-02T23:52:00.004-05:00

It's strange how sometimes many things will come together in a string of co-incidences and, when put together, give you that eerie feeling. I don't think I am making sense, but I will elaborate. For the past week I have been working on and off on the post about abortion, mainly about extreme views on both sides of the debate. I am not quite sure whether I will post it, but for my own reasons I want to finish it. Hence no other posts.

And then I keep on seeing abortion debated again and again in the news, Congress, and pretty much everywhere one looks because of the whole health care reform business. Today I got a poll asking me to identify myself as a pro-Choice or pro-Life. For the record, I refuse to answer as neither describes my views.

Then yesterday I found an excellent article about the situation with late term abortions in the U.S. This is sort of a portrait of the last doctor in the U.S. (for some reason I though there was another one, even after Dr. Tiller was murdered) who is still performing this procedure. While I don't agree with everything he says, I definitely think that the article raises very serious questions and issues. So here's the link for those interested.

On playing G-d

2009-11-23T21:40:00.006-05:00

Very bone-chilling. A patient in persistent vegetative state actually had normal brain activity all along. Can read about it here. As a side note, those whose feeding tubes are removed die of dehydration, IMO very far from dignified death, even if not slow and painful as some doctors claim.

Thanks to Moshe for the link.

Klingons don't lie

2009-11-22T02:59:00.003-05:00

Maybe because it was a really good parody, or maybe because the original I watched was really bad (I do not recommend) or maybe because it was 3 a.m., and everything is a lot funnier at 3 a.m. than during normal hours. Regardless, I found this absolutely hilarious.

On teaching Hebrew first

2009-11-21T23:22:00.002-05:00

Found this among DD's scribbles on Friday - bold big red letters.

KRAP

Then I remembered that she had asked me to spell "park" the night before. Phew. ~~just to think that the child of mine wouldn't know how to spell such an important word.~~

With friends like these who needs a climate change?

2009-11-19T11:23:00.003-05:00

Last week I did something I normally don't - I bought kids chicken nuggets. They were on sale, kids don't eat normal chicken anyway, and it would make dinner preparation for a few nights much easier - so why not? Well, I THOUGHT I was buying chicken nuggets. Instead I picked up a pack of chicken cutlets shaped like dinosaurs. How I have made that mistake is still a mystery, but really, who cares because it was really for the best.

As I was baking those cutlets, DS, who is currently in love with all things dinosaur and at that particular time very antsy in anticipation of eating a DINOSAUR, picked one frozen cutlet out of the bag and started playing with it. I had done something else I normally don't do - I let him play with food. He was very cute about it, but got bored after about 10 minutes or so. He came over to me and said, "Mommy, I don't want to play with him any more. I will put him on my plate. But I will not eat him because he's my friend." Yep, once you play with DS, you are pretty safe from being eaten. At least that night.

Well, it would be funny in itself if were the end, but... As DS and DD were settling down to eat the finally cooked cutlets (and DS repeatedly reassured that he wasn't eating his new friend), DD pretended to bite DS's dinosaur. DS took his cutlet, mumbled something about "tail booboo", kissed his dinosaur's tail "to make him feel better" and within seconds bit off dinosaur's head.

Well, as long as it wasn't his friend, right?

Peculiarities of the toddlerese cleaning

2009-11-10T20:44:00.008-05:00

I have come up with the list of pros and cons of teaching your 3 year old the basics of tidying up the room.

Pros:

1. It teaches the 3 year old how to tidy up the room. Better him than you.
2. Hopefully, since you are starting early, it will develop into a lifelong habit. Unless you have done it all wrong, pushed too hard, nagged too much and he started despising cleaning at a very early age thus developing a lifelong hatred towards this activity. But we are discussing pros.
3. Maybe he will think twice before trashing the room if he knows that he will have to clean it up. ~~Maybe not.~~
4. Few things warm up this mother's heart like her son's offer to clean up the mess he didn't even make. True story! It could happen to you too!
5. He actually does a decent job doing it.
6. Even though you don't really know what happens to half the things he picks up (trash can? laundry hamper? some forsaken drawer? the space between the wall and the crib? - stay tuned, the answer might surprise you!), at least they are not in the plain view and no longer an eye sore.

There's only one con on the list, but for most it might outweigh all the pros:

1. Unbeknownst to you, the cleaning genius in training decides that the best place for all of the dirty clothes he can get his little hands on is your purse. You discover this little factoid upon trying to pay for your morning java at the coffee stand and must rummage through a pile of dirty socks and underwear that includes a pair of your own undies in order to get to the wallet, all in front of the cashier and 37 people standing in line, 7 of whom are your co-workers... Not that it ever happened to me, just saying... But it could happen to you too...

To brie or not to brie - Update

2009-11-09T22:10:00.001-05:00

I know, you folks couldn't sleep at night without knowing what happened to my brie. Hence I present you with this update.

As of the time of this post, I still have a square inch of brie left in my refrigerator. No, I did not enjoy it in the least, but I have a thing about throwing out food. Brought up by grandmother who had survived an artificial famine in 1930s and the World War II, I simply cannot throw out food that is at least somewhat edible. To be eligible for trash can, food has to be unquestionably poisonous, resembling science experiment, covered in fungus - or preferably all of the above. (Before I scare off some potential guests and such, 1) I do not serve or consume food that hasn't quite reached this awful state; I patiently wait for its inevitable demise. I know, I should just toss it once it becomes questionable, but it's a psychological issue over which I have little control. 2)I do take poetic license.)

The problem with brie, though, is that it will never satisfy my strict requirements for being tossed because it already satisfies them. I know, confusing, but bear with me. As far as I am concerned, brie in its fresh state already resembles a food experiment gone terribly wrong, tastes poisonous (and unlike Windex doesn't have a warning or a Poison Control phone number printed on the back). And, unquestionably, it has already grown fungus, which Google advises us not to cut off. The only way to get the darned brie out of my refrigerator was to eat it.

So I did. And did not acquire that elusive taste for it in the process.

To brie or not to brie

2009-11-04T21:10:00.000-05:00

For some time I have been passing by fancy cheeses that all of a sudden appeared in our local kosher supermarket thinking that I should give them a try. I am fairly adventurous when it comes to food; as long as it's kosher I'll give it a try. Unless it has carrots in it. Or sweet potatoes. Or it's waaay too spicy. On the second thought, I guess I am not that adventurous. But for someone who grew up on meat and potatoes diet, I have come pretty far (read: tofu).

But back to cheeses. A few years back SubHub and I have been talked into buying some blue fancy cheese by the store owner. Once we came home and unpacked our precious (very, very precious might I add) cheese, we ended up both looking at each other and wondering whether we have to eat THAT or eat around it. On the second look, there was not eating around IT. We both concluded that if we had an ear infection, pneumonia, syphilis or any other ailment requiring penicillin, we would be immediately cured upon tasting that cheese. We both bravely took a bite, both spit up in unison and swore off trying food that had the word "blue" in it.

Fast forward a few years, and my adventurous spirit was taking the better of me once again. These fancy cheeses, inconspicuously thrown in between mozzarella and a strange concoction commonly known as American cheese (an oxymoron, really), were calling my name. A few times I reached for them, but the price tag stopped me. Eventually I remembered that upon my untimely (it always is, isn't it?) demise I would be held accountable for every permitted food I could, but haven't tried. Could I possibly go to hell over not trying some stinky cheese? I couldn't think of any other reason that would cause this unfortunate turn of events, and I was not going to let this happen. Next time as I was passing by the cheese section, I decided that while paying kids' tuition is a noble ideal, it is definitely not noble enough to miss out on the wonders of heaven. So I took the plunge and bought brie.

I couldn't wait to open it and give it a try. Once the kids were asleep and the house in reasonable order, I opened the brie. Upon inspecting it and not finding anything blue, I noticed that it had rind. I immediately called my parents for advice and was given their standard response, "Google it." While I was searching for the answer, Mom said that they were told to eat the rind. She eats it, but Dad refuses to. Finally Google confirmed that Mom was right, I hung up, cut myself a wedge and took a bite.

What came next cannot be described in any words normally associated with food. I can assure you that I have never participated in urinotherapy. Nevertheless, I felt absolutely certain that what I had just eaten tasted and smelled like very concentrated urine. Or maybe Windex, mixed with urine. The mushroomy goodness promised company's website was neither mushroomy nor good. The released ammonia was so strong that I felt as if I was punched with it in my nose.

"It's an acquired taste," said Mom. I am persistent, so I tried again and again, with and without rind. The feeling that I was eating urine did not go away with subsequent consumption of rind-surrounded cheese. Without rind, brie tasted like bad cream cheese. SubHub wisely refused to even try.

But I do not give up. Next week, Camembert!

My masterpiece

2009-10-27T21:38:00.004-04:00

Last night I read Hannah's post and found out that November is a NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). Basically, one has to write a 175 page novel in 30 days, with quantity, not quality being the prime objective. Since I spend most days wondering how to keep myself busy, I got very excited at the prospect of actually doing this. They (the organizers and I wonder who they are) even expect you to do a bad job, so what's there to lose?

The excitement was very short lived, and very soon I became preoccupied. I was thinking about my future novel all night and the whole day today.

Novel

SubWife

I told you, got nothing better to do.

And now, 24 hours later, I came to a sad realization - I have nothing to say to the world. I just don't know how I can possibly fill those 175 pages. I am too young for memoirs and too blah to write anything else. I would love to write something - anything - just for the heck of it, but - goodness gracious - 175 pages??? Even if I write pure cr4p (I am using the words from the introduction letter), I still can't fill up 175 pages with it ~~unless I introduce a lot of beans to my diet~~ . Of course, I could go the Tolstoy path and describe my breakfast in four pages, lunch in two, afternoon hunger pangs in seven, all in excruciating details, but I might die of boredom doing this, I am just too young to die.

This is a sad day in the life of SubWife. Those organizers (really, who are they?) weren't lying - one will find out something about oneself at the end of the process, even if one doesn't get to finish the novel or write full 175 pages. Only the end of the process for me came on October 26 and I discovered that I just ain't no writer. (Something all of you already realized, and I am the last to know...) So you can all breathe a sigh of relief - my 175 page novel will not be on the summer reading for your kids. And I am going back to my beans.

Captain Noah Morgan's table

2009-10-23T01:20:00.003-04:00

Once again, all that effort DS's teachers are putting into his education is paying off. When I got into the car today, DS proudly announced that he had made a pirate ship as part of his pre-school project. That seemed a bit suspect, and I could barely contain my laughter when I realized that the pirate ship was actually Noah's Ark.

In related news, DD refuses to accept the harsh reality that Noah is not known for building furniture or that she could be wrong, and persistently continues singing "Noah built a table, a table, a table" (instead of teva, "ark" in Hebrew).

In other related news, DS actually knows that Noah built a teva, not a table, and continues correcting DD. His negligent parents, however, refuse to cooperate with the educational process and set him straight about the true nature of the ship DS has built. With persistence, matched only by DD, they continue believing that having a happy with his pirate ship 3 yr old is more important than having a 3 yr old who knows about Noah and his Ark.

In even more related news, not out of principle or because of their views on child rearing and education, both parents would love to be there when DS refers to his Ark as a pirate ship in front of his teacher. We would love to have the picture of her face as well. We are even willing to pay for that, but not much.

With a little help from my neighbors...

2009-10-22T22:55:00.003-04:00

I just shocked my neighbor, profoundly. No, I did not run around the neighborhood in my birthday suit, set anyone on fire or robbed a local grocery store. I had done something much, much stranger. I decided to be nice.

About two years ago the house next door to ours was sold and new neighbors moved in. According to my husband there are at least three families living there. Whatever, they don't disturb us and we don't disturb them. As a matter of fact, they seem to be of the rare species in our neighborhood - the ones that actually use their garage and driveway and don't take up precious parking space on the street. And that seems to be about all we know about them. They could be some cult leaders, practicing polygamists, a band of psychopaths or the latest most popular reality family on TV - and we would be the last to know. Well, turns out that they know about us even less than we know about them.

I was taking out garbage tonight when I saw neighbor's daughter pulling into the driveway. As good manners dictate, I made my way to open the gate and save the girl trouble of getting in and out of her car. All of a sudden I heard honking, then again. I stopped opening the gate and heard the girl telling me, "Hey, I live here!" I asked her if she wanted me to open her gate. She repeated about what she and I and now you already know - that she lived here. Finally I said, "I KNOW. I am your neighbor! I just wanted to help."

It finally dawned on the girl that she was not heroically stopping the robbery of her house. She started thanking me, still rather surprised that anyone would actually do something nice for people she doesn't know well. Then she said something that shocked me even more than my good will gesture shocked her. She said that she had never seen me around, but she probably had seen my daughter. She went on and on and turned out she wasn't referring to either DD or the baby, but my college age daughter. In a nutshell, she was mistaking me for my landlady, who is 1)the mother of TWO college age and still living at home daughters, 2)is 5 inches shorter and 3) is at least 20 years older than me.

Once again, SubHub found the whole age thing quite amusing, but left me wondering whether marriage had aged me THAT much.

We are family

2009-10-15T00:52:00.003-04:00

I have this huge ~~rant~~ post about loyalty to one's employer hovering in my head for the past two years, and I can't quite capture it on this blog. This unfortunate circumstance is mainly due to the lack of time at home since I don't blog/write posts from work out of loyalty to my employer, ~~and not because I have been drowning in work and Blogger is now filtered out anyway~~ .

So this is a shorter version/preview of the rant brought on by the staff meeting that took place today. Every time we have a staff meeting, our boss takes out our department's mission statement, makes someone read it aloud and reminds us about all the reasons why good G-d put our accounting department on this Earth. This mission statement is a product of a brainstorming session, which took place before I came on board. So today, in addition to reviewing, the boss reiterated that teamwork is a major part of our mission statement and how it is so important, how we all are one team, work for the same department and agency, we all have the same goals - to serve and protect, how we are all judged as one department and not individually (thought at different pay rates, obviously), blah, blah, blah - in essense, we are all one happy family and should strive to help each other.

And while all this political correctness was dumped on me, I couldn't chase away one thought: that out of the ten or so people who came up with this mission statement, three were let go, of which two were let go within six months of coming up with this magnum opus.

Yep, oooooone happy family...

This is a joke, right?

2009-10-09T13:46:00.004-04:00

Once again the Nobel Prize for Peace shows how meaningless it is. I am neither pro nor anti-Obama, but Nobel Prize for Peace???? You have got to be kidding me. Then again, he is in the company of Yasir Arafat, so I am not sure whether it is such a complement after all.

Happy birthday to me!

2009-10-07T00:21:00.005-04:00

I got a real birthday gift today, somewhat belated, but from a complete stranger. So it all kind of evens out. Ready? I was carded when trying to buy beer. I ran out without my purse and only had a credit card and old expired driver's permit on me. (Why I had an expired permit in the pocket of my coat is the whole different story not worth mentioning. Unless you click on the link.) I presented my expired ID to the check out girl, and she asked, "Do you have any other form of ID? This one is expired." To my, "But it's still me, same face, same name, and I can assure you that I did not become any younger simply because my ID expired!" she simply said that she couldn't accept that as proof of my age.

When I got back to the car and retold hubby the story, he laughed, for a rather long time might I add, at the thought that someone could have mistaken me for a 20 year old. Well, I still got the last laugh because he didn't get his beer.

With fellow filmmakers like these, who needs prosecutors?

2009-09-30T00:38:00.003-04:00

I just read this. Whatever your feelings are regarding the Polanski case and arrest, I am sure you will agree that having Woody Allen on Polanski's side doesn't really build up his case. If I were Woody and really wanted to help, I would butt out and distance myself as much as possible from this petition.

Ironically, I haven't seen Steven Spielberg among the signatories for Polanski's immediate release. It might have something to do with Spielberg's being a father of a few teenage daughters. It might not, but who knows for sure?

How capitalism doens't always produce the greatest public good

2009-09-24T21:05:00.005-04:00

I was reading cnn.com article on swine flu this afternoon. One comment after the article caught my attention. It said something like: Why would people go to work sick and send their sick children to school? Hmm, I thought. You are reading this article and writing a comment in the middle of the work day: you must either have a cushy office job, work for yourself or stay at home. Therefore, chances are you wouldn't understand. So let me explain to all those who might have the same question.

Employers in the U.S. are not obligated to provide paid sick leave to their employees. As a matter of fact if employee's sickness or disability results in too many absences or is negatively affecting his/her performance, that employee could be fired. Jobs that pay the least tend to be the ones that give no paid sick time off and part with their workers the easiest; and because these jobs pay so little, people working there tend be the most dependent on every penny they earn and not be able to afford missing a single day of work.

Well paying jobs are not that much better, but for different reasons. Ever missed a critical meeting/deadline/project due to sickness? No? I have. I was out two days during the "critical time" with 103 degree fever. Even though my employer at the time encouraged everyone sick to stay home and provided sufficient paid sick leave, I still got "the look" from the manager upon my return. You know, THAT look that makes you think, "Shoot, I should've crawled in that day just to show them how sick I was. And maybe thrown up for good measure during that important meeting, just for illustrative purposes." THE look that makes you think twice before calling in sick again. THE LOOK that you worry might be the kiss of death.

When it comes to keeping kids home when sick, employers tend to be even less sympathetic. "Couldn't she just get a sitter?" is a common thought or comment. Take my case for example, if I kept my kids home every time they exhibited signs of cold or flu, I would have to keep them home anywhere between 20-80% of the time, especially in winter months, and no employer would put up with that. Add to this whole mess the current state of the economy, when jobs get cut left and right and employers can easily replace you with someone willing to do your job for less and without family dramas, absences count against you, frequent absences (more than once a month) are guaranteed to cause problems.

One might say that people coming to work sick are acting selfishly by thinking only about themselves and paying their own bills, but I would counteract with "isn't that what capitalism is all about? Acting in your own best interest and not worrying about the society as a whole? And thus creating better public good?" In this case everyone is acting in their best interest. Employers protect their profits by not offering paid sick leave, employees protect their money by showing up to work sick and sending their children to school with runny noses. The result, however, is far from the greatest public good: more sick people and the possibility of an epidemic that would be hard to contain if sick people don't stay home.

Something in the air

2009-09-23T19:56:00.003-04:00

We were all in the car this morning on our way to drop the kids off at their destinations when all of a sudden DS said, "Papa, do you smell something?" To which DD immediately replied, "It's not me!" After a bit of uneasy tension and us shifting in our seats, DS said, "I think I smell donuts." (And yes, we were passing Dunkin Donuts.) The sigh of relief and laughing ensued. Ahh, good times.

SubSuperWife

2009-09-18T01:29:00.003-04:00

So I have been tagged by Hannah of Ink Stained Hands for the superpower meme. Normally I do not respond to memes for various reasons, but I liked Hannah's reasoning for tagging me ("I am tagging Subwife, because she sounds pretty stressed in her posts about work, and I would like to see if she wishes she could make people just disappear") and my holiday cooking is not done, so I am in, but insist of being flexible with the rules...

The rules are as follows:

Rule number 1: Read the rules.
Rule number 2: Write one superpower you would like to have and what you would do with it.
Rule number 3: Write why you chose that super power over everything else.
Rule number 4: Tag and link 7 people, and write why you think they will have an interesting meme.
Rule number 5: fix your broken links.

Okay, so reading rules wasn't so hard, though I admit I don't quite understand what #5 really means, but moving on. I have to pick one superpower, only one. Hmm. Would I like the ability to make people disappear, as Hannah suggested? I admit there are times when I would love for people to disappear, but wouldn't that be like a murder? Nah, I am not a murderer, though some people are doing their best to challenge/change that statement. And is this really a superpower? Just read Agatha Christie; it seems like making people disappear could be accomplished by literally anyone.

The next ones I thought of were Wolverine-like abilities. How I would love to have those, but dude, those sideburns and hair look good only on Hugh Jackman (because frankly everything looks good on Hugh Jackman). So let's keep that one as a "maybe"...

And then I had a thought. What I really, really, really would love is to have a complete understanding, a way to know the reason behind everything. Not just why people suffer, but why this particular person is suffering. Why the world is filled with so much pain and violence. Why we are here. I think I have considered the basic answers, but I just want to KNOW, TO KNOW WITHOUT A DOUBT. Would it limit my freedom of choice? Probably. Would this ability make me lose my mind? Most definitely, but frankly not a huge loss as I am more than halfway there any way. Regardless, this is not for real, and I refuse to think about it too hard.

In any case, if anyone tries to talk me out of this superpower, I am going back to Wolverine's. Really, any superpower will do. At this point, I would settle for the superpower of making my food cook faster and cleaning up apartment without really trying or at the very least the superpower to hire a cleaning lady.

Ok, it's a free world, so anyone wishing to do this meme could consider themselves tagged.

Shana Tova to everyone!

It's check out time. Do you know where you MasterCard is?

2009-09-15T21:24:00.003-04:00

1. Time needed to organize one's purse: 15 minutes tops
2. Time needed to return the credit card to its designated spot: 5 seconds tops
3. Time rummaging through three sections of my purse in the busy pre-holidays supermarket while hopelessly trying to fish out - ironically - MasterCard, because the store doesn't accept Discover, but instead pulling out various coupons/receipts/box tops/random pieces of paper all the while trying to avoid looking up - because my rabbi's wife is unloading her groceries at the adjacent register - or to my left - because DD's teacher is standing behind me waiting for me to pay so that she can proceed with her groceries - eternity.
4. Realization that doing EITHER #1 or #2 (not even both!!!) would've saved me from #3 - priceless.

P.S. Time wondering why the heck I cannot get organized - oh about thirty years or so...

With future like this who needs Democrats?

2009-09-09T23:05:00.000-04:00

I don't know about you, but I am getting a bit fed up with the constant barrage of news about Sarah Palin. Sarah Palin this, Sarah Palin that, blah, blah, blah. She's becoming the Paris Hilton of politics - lots of media coverage and little achievement.

When McCain announced his running mate about a year ago, I was rooting for her. I really wanted to like her. She was a successful career woman with a big family who somehow managed to have it all. In a very short time Sarah Palin proved to be one big disappointment to anyone for whom moose hunting is not a necessary skill in a vice president. By the voting day, Sarah Palin made me seriously doubt my choice to vote for McCain. I did anyway. And anyway they lost.

One would think as a loser, Ms. Palin would keep a low profile for a while, run her State of Alaska and regroup. No such luck. Palin never left the spotlight and seemed to care about her day job less and less with every passing day. And she proved to be a sore loser. I have read maybe 5 interviews with her since November, and she never missed a chance to blame McCain campaign staffers, liberals and media for her not so stellar public image. For a while one of my favorite Sarah Palin complaints was that seeing how badly her first interviews went, McCain's staff still insisted on doing more. Really, how dare they subject a politician to interviews and expect her to be able to coherently answer! After all, she was only communications major in college. Well, this favorite was replaced by a new one I read in the online magazine for joggers few weeks ago. Prepare to be shocked by the atrocities inflicted upon this woman by McCain staff - they didn't allow sufficient time for her daily jogs! Yawn.

And now, after abandoning her state and moving onto more important things ~~like her political career~~ than the people of Alaska, the most common thing we hear about Ms. Palin is her diva-like behavior: time after time organizers of some Republican event are waiting with baited breath whether Ms. Palin will grace them with their presence, and time after time Ms. Palin refers to some misunderstanding between the organizers and her staff. Funny this should come out from the same person who claimed that McCain's staff didn't know how to handle her or anything else for that matter.

Yet despite her inability to express herself, being unreliable, despite her whining and complaining, this woman has a huge following and is hailed by many as the future of the Republican party. Well, in this case I think that future is rather bleak.

11 Reasons Why I don't Facebook much

2009-08-31T23:31:00.005-04:00

1. DD, who requires my attention.
2. DS, who requires my attention.
3. The baby, who, believe it or not, also requires my attention. Babies these days.
4. I work ~~and those IT people filter out FB~~
5. I am a working mother of 3 kids under five. Yeah, I know I mentioned working and the three kids separately, but believe that having three very young children deserves special mentioning. Plus, in just a few short weeks I won't be able to say that since DD will turn five. Gotta milk this while it lasts.
6. SubHub and his crazy notions that a) I should pay attention to him and b) that our home should be at least somewhat neat and that's somehow my responsibility and not only his. Men these days, I tell ya.
7. Do I really need another virtual addiction?
8. My first virtual addiction, this blog, has been neglected for some time now. Got to make amends.
9. My memory is going, and I would have to remember what I posted on the blog and what I mentioned on FB. It just seems like too much work.
10. It really creeps me out to have so much personal information directly connected to my actual name out there for everyone to see.
11. I am a working mother of three children under five. Did I mention that already? I don't remember... See what I mean?

Do you remember?

2009-08-23T03:12:00.003-04:00

Our company instituted the new email retention policy, and now everything over 18 months old is automatically transferred into the "trash" folder and thereafter permanently erased in 30 days. Anything that we want saved must be either printed or saved elsewhere. So now every week or so I peruse the "trash" folder just to make sure there's nothing that needs saving.

Last week I found an old emailed sent by yours truly to her co-worker. It said, "Why am I not a lesbian? Why??? Why????" I wonder what precipitated this, but most likely I don't really want to remember. Ahh, memories that I don't have.