Nerdy fact: My kid had an email address – nay, two email addresses – over a year before he had an American social security number.
To file my American taxes, I realized I needed – and didn’t have – Koala’s social security number. You’re actually supposed to just apply for it while getting the Consular Report of Birth and passport sorted out at the American Embassy/Consulate, but of course, that didn’t prove simple for me and social security got lost somewhere.
So to work it out, I went over to the American Consulate in East Jerusalem yesterday. It was actually chik chok, which was shocking but welcome. You need the American parent(s)’ passport, the baby’s passport, and the birth certificate/Consular Report of Birth.
To explain the email address thing – yeah, I figured out a cool nickname and grabbed it. So what? It was 2009!
The funny thing is, though, by the time Koala is of age, neither the social security nor the email address will matter. Things of the past, the stuff mama could sit back in her rocking chair and muse over… Those were the days.
This koala update is brought to you by the letter ‘T.’
He walk-runs. He reaches tabletops. He knows what he wants and he will damn well tell you.
Also, don’t bother feeding him. He will feed himself, thankyouverymuch. With a fork. And a spoon. Simultaneously.
Language is getting fun. Not only does he recognize dogs in pictures and in real life, and called out to them (da!), but Koala also calls cats, birds and cars by the same name.
Also – shoes!!!! And ices.
We’ve gotten into water play this month. Whether in a bowl on the porch, or in a pool on another porch (we have three for some reason), splashing is fun, squirting is fun, and pouring out is funnest of them all.
The ‘terrible twos-minus-nine-months’ have begun full fledge. Koala displays two main types of tantrum poses: the Muslim (body folded, head down, fists banging the floor) and the Shove (upright, facing you, everything in his path, pushed away).
But the sense of humor is still awesome. Even when it’s at ‘כיבוד אב ואם’ ‘s expense.
Ynet did it again. This isn’t the second time I’ve noticed the blatant anti-religious fervor that an Israeli newspaper is purposely trying to spread. This is the 328975623th time.
I used to actually enjoy reading Ynet. It was one of the central papers; sitting somewhere between JPost and Haaretz (in English, anyway).
Their credibility has completely been shot as in the last few years it has become repeatedly obvious that Ynet can’t control itself regarding its one-sided commentary on religious and haredi life.
Let me include a disclaimer: I’m no haredi, and I don’t look or act dati leumi. It doesn’t matter what I actually am. I’m a former newspaper reporter and I’m angry at this ridiculous, blatant, one-sided hatred pouring from Ynet’s pages.
This isn’t the best example; there are tons of others. I’m just tired. It’s this essay in Ynet about haredi weddings. Yes, it’s tongue-in-cheek. Yes, it ends in a positive light, if you get to the end and haven’t gotten bored and moved on before that. No, it is not indicated anywhere that it is meant to be humorous or satirical. It falls under the often-infuriating ‘Jewish Life’ column. Why not add a tag at the top that it’s meant to be humor? And why do your Jewish Life columns always focus on either a tiny out-of-context detail related to sections of haredi populations or poking fun at them without explaining truth?
Your audience is mostly secular, Ynet. Why fan flames of distrust, dislike and hatred on a weekly basis? Why not promote understanding, reporting the deeper stories about all kinds of demographics, the stories most Israelis on different sides don’t see?
For a few years I kept seeing the word ‘zumba’ in my Facebook feed…
Ahhh! Zumba!
Just came back from zuuumbaaa!!!
I <3 Zumba 4everz!!11!!1
And I’ve had no freakin clue what everyone has been saying.
Last week, I got an email advertising Zumba on Sunday nights right here in cozy little Tzur Hadassah. So I had to break the curiosity and go.
Ok, here’s the thing: Lately, I’ve been feeling really… old. Sure, I’m chillin’ in my late 20s, but it’s a state of mind. I don’t exercise, gravity is pointing it’s forefinger at me and I find myself saying things like, “Wait till your father gets home…”
So if you’re feeling old, what better way to youthen up than to dance-aerobics to spicy Latin hip hop?
In an open school yard?
While 11-year-old boys watch you?
Israeli Zumba: It’s you, gloriously uncoordinated you, and a bunch of 40/50 year olds, sweating your hearts out at the local school, loud Spanish speakers blasting while a Russian hottie makes you move your hips in naughty ways, an audience of a dozen grade school boys on the verge of puberty watching (possibly filming, who can be sure?) – and a few actually join in behind you.
Walking in Jerusalem today, on HaPalmach street, I spotted a 6ish year old boy operating… a lemonade stand (!)
Did you grow up in the 80s? I remember having ‘computer class’ in elementary school, which meant playing Lemonade Stand on an Apple II or Commodore 64 for 45 minutes while the teacher read a book.
This boy and his little pitcher struck such a chord with me…
(God, I feel old).
Of course, I supported his entrepreneurial spirit and bought a cup of 2-shekel lemonade. Which was extra tasty on a hot day.
One of the best re-giftings I’ve ever gotten was being able to watch Sesame Street all over again, as much as I want, from now until my last kid turns to me and says, “Ma, c’mon, I’m too old for Sesame Street,” as he walks out the door for first year of army service.
shouldn't complain when huz wakes up w/, dresses koala, but navy blue shirt w/ navy blue shorts? wonder if ganenet knows who dresses him.about 12 hours agofrom TweetDeck
Toddler. Tired. Tantrum.
Ahhh! Zumba!