Fifty-Two Frames: Balance

Caught this shot early on in the week, and then even went back to take a better version on a clearer day. I was debating whether it was actually photographic balance – the idea was the light in the top left would offset the character in the bottom right. Of course, bottom right is way heavier but I gave it a shot.

Week  12: Balance

Ready… steady.

We’ll have to teach her to knock first.

Nothing like making a life-beginning entrance in 3 hours. Baby girl came busting through just 25 minutes shy of midnight last night (March 22nd). Maybe she was hungry? Maybe she suddenly really had something to tell me? Was there something in my teeth?

She weighed in at 2.98 kilograms – still waiting to crack the 3-kilo mark – with a now-predictable, trademark full head of dark black hair, to rival her older siblings.

 

Baking ‘hamantaschen’ with your Israeli children.

Ears of a guy we’re meant to love to hate. Jews: still rocking weird drama since 3338.

First time making hamantaschen with my kids. Or as an adult. FYI: as you and the diaspora-born father of your kids keep talking about ‘hamentashen,’ your Israeli-born kids are bound to, at some point, look at you oddly.

“Oh. Right. Oznei Haman… it’s, uh, Yiddish to say ‘hamantaschen.’ Haman + taschen.”

Stares.

I had this thing baking hamantaschen. It wasn’t as bad as I thought… Here’s the recipe we used, nothing fancy. Obviously we traded fruit jam for chocolate.

Homemade Purim costumes. No pricey. No sexy.

This is the first year we had strong Purim costume requests… from two kids.

‘Hello Kitty’ I got pretty quick.

Once I figured out what צב צבי נינג’ה meant, I spent a few days hinting at other ideas because after a quick look at Pinterest I decided this would be too hard.

But I won’t lie: I derived a lot of pleasure from my son requesting to be a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle… in 2014.

I left Pinterest out of this and I’m pretty proud of what we came up with. Cheap and easy and something Koala actually helped with.

Costume ingredients for Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle:

  • Green sweatpants and long sleeve shirt
  • Blue (or turtle hero color of your choice) light craft fabric for mask, arm and leg bands
  • Two round foil pans for back shell and front plate
  • Green and yellow paint
  • Green ribbon for the shell straps
  • Safety pins
  • Green face paint
  • Weaponry of choice, if that’s your thing

I had enough of it at home where the whole thing cost me around 55 shekel (12 bucks?). Not bad!

The shell is the biggest task: the back shell was painted by Koala in green, and the front plate in yellow. I trimmed the ‘walls’ of the pan and folded them in to make it flat. I used a whole puncher to create wholes to tie the green ribbon through four corners to make a ‘backpack’ sort of strap situation, but later realized safety pins work better since the foil pan is flimsy.

It was a huge hit with Koala, who wanted to try it on every day leading up to his class Purim party. It was a huge hit with me, who peeked at the price of a manufactured costume in the store and saw it was over 200 NIS.

As far as Hello Kitty… I was also a little intimidated by that one. How could I make her look like Hello KItty as opposed to a regular costume cat?

But Bebe is nearly three years old, let’s not forget, and has/will proudly tell everyone what she is… constantly. So She wore her favorite ‘nice dress’, I did the classic gold/yellow nose and black whiskers, bought a cat headband for ten shekel, and pinned a big red bow to it.

Two happy non-sexy or exaggerated Purim costumed kids. Two happy parents with cash left in the wallets.

Happy Purim!

(And you bet I posted this to Pinterest.)

I’m not ready. Here’s why. (Hint: it’s not the toilet paper)

  • © Budda | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free ImagesFinishing the kids’ Purim costumes.
  • Keeping the car clean.
  • Prepping mishloach manot in advance.
  • Writing a letter to my kids.
  • (Trying) to keep the sink empty.
  • Refilling toilet paper.

Just a few falsely empowering things I’ve been doing over the last week in case I have to leave everything behind to dash to the hospital. Like if there’s enough toilet paper in each bathroom, and contractions start, everything will be totally ok. No one will need for toilet paper. Giving birth will go 100% fine.

Welcome. This is an honest post.

I’ve spent the last few months in a constant battle with the fears and anxiety I feel related to the fact I have to give birth in the hospital this time. I don’t care to go into how stupid it is, how unfair it is, how ignorant it is. This is the situation. It’s happening.

And I’m not ready.

I keep half-joking but totally-seriously saying to my husband, ‘when I’m gone, know that the kids’ costumes are in that corner’ or ‘when I’m gone, make sure they take the mishloach manot for their ganenot on Friday’ or ‘when I’m gone, the gifts for the kids are in this bag, bring them to the hospital so the baby can ‘give’ it to them.’

Is that weird? A little controlling? A lotta crazy? I’m honestly asking, I’m new at this.

Last time my son was over at the neighbors for about an hour before we brought him into our bedroom to meet his sister. We all slept in our own beds a few hours later. I tossed my laundry in the basket and it didn’t matter it wouldn’t get done for a little while. I was there. I could take care of it whenever. The toilet paper figured itself out, too.

The thought of leaving your family home to give birth to your new family member is so bizarre to me. Is that weird? Talking to most other people, it certainly seems I’m the weird one. I don’t get how, if all things are aligned correctly, feeding off the empowerment bestowed on you within your safest place is a problem. Am I that anti-social? I just don’t get how spending all that time in a public place is the best idea for a newborn. Or mother. I don’t want people I don’t know or trust talking to me or looking at me while I’m getting it done. Is that really so crazy?

I’m not ready for that. I’m not ready to have to act on an establishment’s universal rulebook. I’m not ready to have to politely decline or frustratingly accept.

I’m not ready to clear my head of negativity and it’s holding me back.

The good news is I started dealing with it today. Maybe I can turn this around in time. Putting myself out there is the opposite of my nature. Maybe that’s the key.

Maybe the toilet paper will start refilling itself.

A letter for two.

Koala and Bebe,

You know, I have this memory from when my second brother (your local uncle) was born. I was six months younger than you, Koala. I don’t remember much about my mama being pregnant – I’m sure you will though – but I do remember the mixed feelings at having my grandparents over, my mom far away, the fact that it was a boy and I had wanted a girl…

The story goes like this: your uncle and I decided we would – in true Staten Island parlance – ‘take care of’ this baby when my parents would come home from the hospital. We were dressed in our ninja/warrior gear. I remember us hiding in the den, pacing along the top of the couch, waiting. Finally our grandmother called to us that mom and dad and baby were home, come see! I remember reluctantly jumping off the couch to greet them.

Needless to say, your younger uncle is still around and it’s definitely been worth nearly three decades of holding off on the weaponry.

Koala. When we first got pregnant this time, before we told anyone, you had this thing where you started feeling my belly and became more affectionate in general… After four years of squirming out of hugs or defining cuddles as, here, I sat in your arms for a sec, now let me go! it seemed like you couldn’t get enough.

It was weird and mysterious… like somehow you knew there was something up. Maybe you just wanted to have a baby like a lot of your friends. Maybe it was some feature of your age. Maybe kids really have a sixth sense about these things.

You’ve been an amazing big brother to Bebe – just the right mix of protective and annoying. You’re a teacher and a student to your sister. A comedian and a paramedic. A roommate and a conspirer. So when the new baby comes along, I know you’ll wiggle over and make room. Lovingly. Protectively. Curiously. And… unarmed (this week’s Purim costume-aside).

Bebe. You’ve grown a lot in the nine months I’ve had to consider how much you’re going to seem so grown the moment you become a big sister. In the days after you were born, you shared with me a habit of yours which I’ve assumed predates your birth. As you snuggled up on me that first day, you’d take your tiny fingers and lightly pinch my neck. It’s something you still do – to yourself, to me, to people with whom you feel safe.

We laugh about it a lot… but there’s just something so touching in the way you show your physical affection. You take my hand suddenly. Put your arm around my shoulder. Pat my belly and whisper to the baby.

Morning bed cuddles are your coffee. You’re generous with your kisses. You’ve always been armed with affection. It might get a little bit rough, B, but you’re going to grow into a wonderful big sister. You’ve had it in you since you were born.

It’s been a gift watching two siblings grow together, laugh together, love together. You guys have been, in some ways, a natural, inherent unit.

I’m happy we were able to give you this time together.

I’m happy that now we all get to start something new.