Day Care Center my kids go to has seen a lot of changes in personnel recently, with a quite a few new teachers coming in. We probably don’t know half of them in face because we pick up our kids so late in the day when only one or two babysitters stay to supervise the kids. Our son’s group got a new afternoon babysitter/teacher, but we haven’t actually met her until very recently, and of course under peculiar circumstances.
When SubHub went to pick kiddos last night, he discovered that our little man had dropped a huge stink bomb in his diaper. He often does that right before he’s picked from daycare/we need to leave/we are in the middle of dinner with guests/he had his diaper changed three minutes ago. Long story short, his timing is almost always off, as if he senses when changing his stinky diaper would cause the most amount of disgust, inconvenience, and loss of appetite. (On the other hand, good dieting idea! Though I’m afraid that I would be so distraught by the loss of appetite that I might double up on emotional binging. Still, worth exploring.) But, thank God, everything works in that department, so I am not complaining.
But back to daycare. Hubs was in a rush and started looking for someone to change DS. He asked another teacher in the room where DS’s babysitter was. She looked at him a bit strange and asked who DS (insert the name) was. When hubs pointed at the little stinker, the teacher said that she didn’t know the whereabouts of his babysitter. Hubby thought to himself “Newbie”, but was a little ticked off that this new babysitter didn’t volunteer to change DS herself (something she was supposed to do in the absence of her colleague). He was about to ask her to do just that, when he was distracted by DD. And thank God!
DD was pointing to something on the street, and hubby noticed a double-parked car in front of the entrance. Then he saw DS’s babysitter entering the room with a diaper and changing him. He saw that other teacher chasing two older boys and promising to leave without them… As if in a slow motion, pieces of the puzzle started coming together. That other teacher was not a teacher at all, she was another parent picking up her kids from daycare!
When SubHub told me this story I asked him to describe that woman to me. That’s when I realized to my horror (and maniacal giggles) that she and I are well acquainted, and we often bump into each other on the street, at day care, while grocery shopping and during social events. She usually picks up her kids an hour earlier (when and if I pick them up), and that’s why my hubs never met her there. Even though SubHub doesn’t know this woman, she knows me and the kids (at least in face) and can easily make all the necessary connections. Imagine the embarrassment every time I would see her!
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
Patience, young Antonio!
I will not bore you with my usual “kids got to me”, “life’s hard”, “I am exhausted” blah blah blah stuff. Sometimes I make even myself nauseous with all the whining. Just thinking about the number of people who would give up five years of their life to live like me and have children like mine should make me a little more grateful for what I have. Yet I whine. But I refuse to whine about whining; after all, one has to draw a line somewhere.
This post is actually about my cooking. I have mentioned several times on this blog that I enjoy cooking. That is not entirely true. It’s not the cooking itself that I love; I like feeding people. It makes me feel good. I don’t really know why; maybe, I subconsciously hope that if everyone around me gained weight, it would make me look slimmer. Desperation is a powerful motivator, what can I say. But this time I was making food for people who I hope will never get fat, my kids. Since Friday afternoons before Shabbat are so long now, I need not to only worry about what they’ll have for breakfast while I am at work, but also lunch. This Friday I decided to treat them with baked ziti.
So I started cooking Thursday night. It was pretty late by the time I managed to boil water, and I was anxious to call it a night. When the pasta finally seemed done and before I drained it, I took one piece to taste to make sure it truly was cooked. I barely waited enough time for the ziti to cool off, taking an educated risk of burning my tongue by hot pasta, but I definitely didn’t expect what happened next. I bit into the very hot ziti, and all of a sudden instead of a burned tongue I felt my lip and chin getting burned. The water from inside the ziti (something I didn’t think was there and never thought to check for) squirted onto my face, making me scream with pain and scaring SubHub in the process. It didn’t look so bad immediately, but when I woke up the next morning, I had an ugly blister on and under my lip.
It all would’ve been worth it if the ziti came out fine. (I know, I am a masochist.) Since I was tired and burned, I decided to bake the ziti with cheese Friday morning, reasoning that I didn’t have to prepare kids for day care and would have plenty of time if only I got up at the regular hour. Ha! Ha! And another sarcastic HA!!!!! When did I ever wake up to give myself enough time for anything? I was rushing like a maniac in the morning, and when the time finally came to make ziti, I was already 10 minutes late for work. But one cannot compromise when it comes to kids’ nourishment. I made ziti, leaving SubHub specific instructions of when the oven should be turned off.
When I called from work, very puzzled hub said that he followed instructions, but didn’t understand why the cheese hadn’t melted. After a brief investigation, we concluded that I must’ve pressed the wrong button and actually never cooked the ziti. After initially warming up the oven, I must’ve pressed the “stop” instead of the “start” button on my toaster oven. What led me to this conclusion? The dish was cold to the touch, for crying out loud, coming out of supposedly 350 degree oven. So Hubs put the ziti back where it belonged, actually turned the oven on, and afterward kids reportedly liked it. When I came home, I saw the remaining of very well eaten bakes ziti on the table and…horror of all horrors… it was all white! As in NO TOMATO SAUCE WAS POURED ON IT!!! In my haste I forgot to add the sauce I so painstakingly prepared!
So now I am wondering. Is my cooking so horrendous that kids didn’t feel the difference between a normally prepared baked ziti and the sause-less? Or they don’t actually care and would eat anything as long as it is sprinkled with cheese? In that case, I want 2 years of my life spent making their food “just right” back!
This post is actually about my cooking. I have mentioned several times on this blog that I enjoy cooking. That is not entirely true. It’s not the cooking itself that I love; I like feeding people. It makes me feel good. I don’t really know why; maybe, I subconsciously hope that if everyone around me gained weight, it would make me look slimmer. Desperation is a powerful motivator, what can I say. But this time I was making food for people who I hope will never get fat, my kids. Since Friday afternoons before Shabbat are so long now, I need not to only worry about what they’ll have for breakfast while I am at work, but also lunch. This Friday I decided to treat them with baked ziti.
So I started cooking Thursday night. It was pretty late by the time I managed to boil water, and I was anxious to call it a night. When the pasta finally seemed done and before I drained it, I took one piece to taste to make sure it truly was cooked. I barely waited enough time for the ziti to cool off, taking an educated risk of burning my tongue by hot pasta, but I definitely didn’t expect what happened next. I bit into the very hot ziti, and all of a sudden instead of a burned tongue I felt my lip and chin getting burned. The water from inside the ziti (something I didn’t think was there and never thought to check for) squirted onto my face, making me scream with pain and scaring SubHub in the process. It didn’t look so bad immediately, but when I woke up the next morning, I had an ugly blister on and under my lip.
It all would’ve been worth it if the ziti came out fine. (I know, I am a masochist.) Since I was tired and burned, I decided to bake the ziti with cheese Friday morning, reasoning that I didn’t have to prepare kids for day care and would have plenty of time if only I got up at the regular hour. Ha! Ha! And another sarcastic HA!!!!! When did I ever wake up to give myself enough time for anything? I was rushing like a maniac in the morning, and when the time finally came to make ziti, I was already 10 minutes late for work. But one cannot compromise when it comes to kids’ nourishment. I made ziti, leaving SubHub specific instructions of when the oven should be turned off.
When I called from work, very puzzled hub said that he followed instructions, but didn’t understand why the cheese hadn’t melted. After a brief investigation, we concluded that I must’ve pressed the wrong button and actually never cooked the ziti. After initially warming up the oven, I must’ve pressed the “stop” instead of the “start” button on my toaster oven. What led me to this conclusion? The dish was cold to the touch, for crying out loud, coming out of supposedly 350 degree oven. So Hubs put the ziti back where it belonged, actually turned the oven on, and afterward kids reportedly liked it. When I came home, I saw the remaining of very well eaten bakes ziti on the table and…horror of all horrors… it was all white! As in NO TOMATO SAUCE WAS POURED ON IT!!! In my haste I forgot to add the sauce I so painstakingly prepared!
So now I am wondering. Is my cooking so horrendous that kids didn’t feel the difference between a normally prepared baked ziti and the sause-less? Or they don’t actually care and would eat anything as long as it is sprinkled with cheese? In that case, I want 2 years of my life spent making their food “just right” back!
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Paper or plastic?
I have been browsing parenting book section on Amazon when my eye caught a topic of active discussions. The topic was dedicated to raising children, and the original poster presented the following question: why raise children in a certain religion when it seems much more preferable to not indoctrinate them with any religious teachings; once children are old enough, let them make the choice about which religion to follow, if any any.
Obviously, the question was presented by an atheist. (As a side note, he was quite sure that if the children are presented with such a choice without any influence from prior religious teachings or observances, they would, of course, come to conclusion that there is no G-d and all religions are phony.) Quite honestly, I had the same question growing up. I was brought up in an atheistic, at least officially, society, but during every Christian holiday saw my Ukrainian neighbors going with their children to church. I always wondered: why do they drag their children with them? Don't they realize that their beliefs are false and anti-scientific, etc, so why indoctrinate the children as well? If adults choose to believe religious nonsense - let them do it, but I felt that they should've left their kids alone.
Ok, so here's the difference. I had these thoughts when I was 12-14. I think even if I didn't become religious, I would've reached some emotional and intellectual maturity that would allow me to realize this: people who truly believe see no other alternative. And of course, now that I am on the same side of the debate, different religion, but similar issues and questions, the answer seems all too obvious to me.
But before, please let me rant a bit here. I am sick of people treating religion as some sort of personal choice, a little more serious than the choice between paper and plastic in the supermarket, but a lot less serious than the choice of profession. I have seen this time and again, across the border: from my non-religious family, my Catholic co-workers, on the Internet and, really, pretty much everywhere. When people find out that I wasn't brought up observant, the most common question is : how did you decide that being Orthodox is for you? There are many variations of the same question: when did you find yourself? what in particular appealed to you? have you considered other religions? are you doing it for your husband or to get married to him? To me, all of the above are more a statement than a question: your choice of religion was brought on by a personal preference, by something that you found appealing; there had to be something that made Judaism look attractive to you.
Initially, yes, there were things that I liked, and they made me ask the questions. But ultimately, whatever seemed attractive would not have carried me very far for very long. After all, other religions had their attractions as well. What made me commit was the realization that this is the truth, the ultimate truth, about the world, the universe, people, G-d, Creation, you name it. The truth was there. After that realization and a lot of learning and investigating, all the laws were easier to accept and follow. Because if this is THE truth, then there is no other choice. My beliefs and my actions must be consistent.
Once my colleague had told me that he would not have been able to be Orthodox. His reasoning was that there were only two days in the week-end: one for errands and the other one for social life. If one of these days would always be dedicated to Sabbath observance, when one cannot drive, do everyday work and is "stuck in the house", then the other day would be automatically dedicated to errands. So what about social life? Even though I have a big mouth, at times it is hard to give a good answer on the spot. I told him something lame, though true, about my social life never being so full after becoming observant, about community, etc., but I knew all those answers weren't good. And at the end my colleague,whom I honestly wasn't trying to convert or persuade, said that Orthodox lifestyle will never be for him. Now looking back at this incident, the answer is so simple! If I truly and honestly believe that it is against G-d's will for me to drive on Sabbath, then what's there to talk about? Between my desire to see my buddies and fulfilling G-d's commandment, commandment wins hands down! Who am I to argue with G-d, Creator of the Universe? You don't have to believe that Judaism is true to see how simple this logic is and how little sense my former colleague's statement makes. We don't have to agree on what the truth is to conclude that following what one deems to be true simply makes sense. I think this is something that anyone truly believing in any religion and G-d would understand, but I happen to know that Catholicism for this guy was just something to do if the social life allowed, a bunch of nice rituals and Christmas.
So back to the original question. Because my beliefs for me are more than just a personal choice and I am sure that they are true, I would not dare to withhold this truth from my children. Furthermore, I would feel obligated to share it with them together with the reasons for why it is the ultimate truth. So hopefully for them it won't be a matter of personal choice, but following one's conscience and behaving consistently with their beliefs and what they know to be true.
Obviously, the question was presented by an atheist. (As a side note, he was quite sure that if the children are presented with such a choice without any influence from prior religious teachings or observances, they would, of course, come to conclusion that there is no G-d and all religions are phony.) Quite honestly, I had the same question growing up. I was brought up in an atheistic, at least officially, society, but during every Christian holiday saw my Ukrainian neighbors going with their children to church. I always wondered: why do they drag their children with them? Don't they realize that their beliefs are false and anti-scientific, etc, so why indoctrinate the children as well? If adults choose to believe religious nonsense - let them do it, but I felt that they should've left their kids alone.
Ok, so here's the difference. I had these thoughts when I was 12-14. I think even if I didn't become religious, I would've reached some emotional and intellectual maturity that would allow me to realize this: people who truly believe see no other alternative. And of course, now that I am on the same side of the debate, different religion, but similar issues and questions, the answer seems all too obvious to me.
But before, please let me rant a bit here. I am sick of people treating religion as some sort of personal choice, a little more serious than the choice between paper and plastic in the supermarket, but a lot less serious than the choice of profession. I have seen this time and again, across the border: from my non-religious family, my Catholic co-workers, on the Internet and, really, pretty much everywhere. When people find out that I wasn't brought up observant, the most common question is : how did you decide that being Orthodox is for you? There are many variations of the same question: when did you find yourself? what in particular appealed to you? have you considered other religions? are you doing it for your husband or to get married to him? To me, all of the above are more a statement than a question: your choice of religion was brought on by a personal preference, by something that you found appealing; there had to be something that made Judaism look attractive to you.
Initially, yes, there were things that I liked, and they made me ask the questions. But ultimately, whatever seemed attractive would not have carried me very far for very long. After all, other religions had their attractions as well. What made me commit was the realization that this is the truth, the ultimate truth, about the world, the universe, people, G-d, Creation, you name it. The truth was there. After that realization and a lot of learning and investigating, all the laws were easier to accept and follow. Because if this is THE truth, then there is no other choice. My beliefs and my actions must be consistent.
Once my colleague had told me that he would not have been able to be Orthodox. His reasoning was that there were only two days in the week-end: one for errands and the other one for social life. If one of these days would always be dedicated to Sabbath observance, when one cannot drive, do everyday work and is "stuck in the house", then the other day would be automatically dedicated to errands. So what about social life? Even though I have a big mouth, at times it is hard to give a good answer on the spot. I told him something lame, though true, about my social life never being so full after becoming observant, about community, etc., but I knew all those answers weren't good. And at the end my colleague,whom I honestly wasn't trying to convert or persuade, said that Orthodox lifestyle will never be for him. Now looking back at this incident, the answer is so simple! If I truly and honestly believe that it is against G-d's will for me to drive on Sabbath, then what's there to talk about? Between my desire to see my buddies and fulfilling G-d's commandment, commandment wins hands down! Who am I to argue with G-d, Creator of the Universe? You don't have to believe that Judaism is true to see how simple this logic is and how little sense my former colleague's statement makes. We don't have to agree on what the truth is to conclude that following what one deems to be true simply makes sense. I think this is something that anyone truly believing in any religion and G-d would understand, but I happen to know that Catholicism for this guy was just something to do if the social life allowed, a bunch of nice rituals and Christmas.
So back to the original question. Because my beliefs for me are more than just a personal choice and I am sure that they are true, I would not dare to withhold this truth from my children. Furthermore, I would feel obligated to share it with them together with the reasons for why it is the ultimate truth. So hopefully for them it won't be a matter of personal choice, but following one's conscience and behaving consistently with their beliefs and what they know to be true.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Summer's in the air...
I think I have finally figured out at least part of the reason why allergies get worse as the weather gets warmer. It is actually quite simple. You see, as it gets warmer, people start perspiring more, and some of them still haven't discovered the existence of deodorants. So G-d mercifully stuffed our noses to protect them from these awful smells. My allergies fortunately only started bothering me while many of my co-workers have been suffering for some time, so I am still susceptible to the BO's. Probably not for long...
But it makes one wonder how people lived before deodorants, every day showers or baths. Many history books say that people and cities smelled badly, but at this day and age it is hard to imagine how badly they reeked. Once again, thank G-d, and may we never find out.
But it makes one wonder how people lived before deodorants, every day showers or baths. Many history books say that people and cities smelled badly, but at this day and age it is hard to imagine how badly they reeked. Once again, thank G-d, and may we never find out.
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