PSA: skirt length and public transporation.

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.

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

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...)

Let it snow

Snow, snow everywhere! And I love it, I simply love it! As SubHub points out that’s because I don’t drive. True, but still there’s something magical about waking up, looking out the window and finding the normally gray and dull Brooklyn winter landscape covered in a while blanket of snow. It makes me feel refreshed, it puts a smile on my face and a spring in my step, and it energizes me better than coffee. It’s so white and pure and clean and beautiful. Ahhhh. (Am I a closeted neat freak? Must shoo away this thought.)

I know that in all likelihood, by the time of my night commute the snow will turn into a brown disgusting mush, and SubHub will complain how hard it was to drive all day long, and the floor in the house will be much dirtier than usual (there again, did you see that? Another thought on neatness just crept up). But I am from the part of the world where snowless winter made just as much sense as a vegetarian steak, so I need a certain amount of this white stuff for mental health (or whatever is left of it) preservation.

So let me enjoy it now and bask in its beauty. Because soon this whiteness will pass and the magic will be gone. And you will be able to drive your cars without any hassle whatsoever (hahahaha, get it? Driving in NYC? Without a hassle? Real funny…ok, ok, maybe not so much. Obviously, the last two snowless winters took their toll on my mental health.)

Naked ambition

Ever notice that kids rarely just walk? If they get an idea or want something, they don't sit and contemplate, they run for it. When they wake up, they must get out of bed ASAP because there are so many things to do and so little time. It's as if they treasure every moment and delaying is not an option. There are times when this drives me nuts (Mommy, I want this, I want this, I want this, NOW!!!!), but mostly I envy that. I am sure I was the same when their age, but somewhere down the line I lost this ability to "Just do it!"

Take today, for example. Even though I knew that getting out of bed just 10-15 minutes earlier would save me lots and lots of frustration later, I still delayed getting up until almost literally dragged out of bed by hubby. (Yes, I am tired, but isn't everyone?) As I got the kids' clothes and finally left the bedroom, I was met by my laughing kidlets, sitting on the couch stark naked and playfully tagging at DD's blanket while waiting for me to bring their stuff. (Let me emphasize that this does NOT, I repeat does NOT usually happen and our kids do NOT routinely parade naked around the house. So hold off on calling children's services, ok?)

At the same time their father walked in and mentioned that someone spilled a bit of water on the floor, which needed to be mopped by the wrongdoers, but right after they put on their underwear. Of course the underwear part was ignored immediately, and they both ran for our new mop.


(Our new mop)


After a brief argument about who is going to hold the mop, they compromised and both ended up holding it and wiping the floor as a team (I was duly impressed with this newly developed diplomacy despite the fog in my under-caffeinated brain.) I got to tell you, this was the cutest thing: two kiddies in their birthday suits mopping the floor and giggling all the while.

Of course this nudist mopping party couldn't last because they had to get dressed for a million of reasons. And I found myself jealous. Goodness, if it were me, I would sit there for some time contemplating when, how or whether to mop at all. And they just got up and did it. Why couldn't I approach at least some of the tasks on my ever-growing to do list just like them? Well, not necessarily while naked, but quickly, efficiently and with a giggle?

Radio Days

Had a call this evening from a guy conducting a survey of my radio listening habits. I had him a bit stunned because turns out that my listening habits had been hard to enter into the pre-filled multiple choice options. I have turned from an avid listener to an almost non-listener. (Good thing he wasn't conducting TV watching habits, I probably would've left him speechless.) I listen to the radio on weekends only, and not even every Sunday.

Well, this is not the entire truth. I listen a lot more; actually, forced to listed to a lot more would be more accurate. For example, in the morning I listen to whatever station SubHub subjects me. I am not a morning person. My ideal morning, aside from sleeping in, should include dimmed lights, a quiet trip to the bathroom, a quiet shower, a quiet cup of coffee with a soft cookie (biting into a cracker would be too loud). After the coffee is sufficiently absorbed by the body, then and only then one should be able to talk me, gently whispering, and only if absolutely necessary. I was like this ever since I can remember myself (which used to drive my dear dad crazy). Listening to the radio early in the morning would not occur to me, ever. Let alone at high volume. Let alone in Hebrew, where I only understand proper nouns...

Or let's take work, where some people choose to have little radios in their cubicles. Many of these people are discreet in their listening habits, but the sounds are still easily heard by those who sit nearby. So at work I listen to Christmas songs and carols from October to December and Chinese news all year round. (I am trying not to think about this year's holiday season, which due to the economical slowdown might start in early August...)

Any surprise that l now associate listening to the radio with headaches and oppression and avoid it like a plague?

P.S. I am thinking of introducing my neighbors to a classical music station. During the years of taking music classes I have developed resistance to it, even some appreciation. Wonder what they will think of Carmina Burana and whether forced exposure to Carl Orff constitutes torture under the Geneva convention.

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!