Blended

Wordless Wednesday - October 12, 2011

If You're Looking for Me, I'm in the Pantry. And I Took the Rum.

*Facebook - The girls are calling each other Soul Sisters instead of Step Sisters. I think it's just an excuse to hear Gabby sing HEY SOUL SISTER at the top of her lungs.

 

We have three nine-year-old girls. As of right now, the biggest problem we have with them is the ongoing argument called, “Who did it?”  (“IT” could be anything…)  Here’s the basic script of the argument: 

1:  Why did you do IT?

2: I didn’t do IT

3: Yes you did IT

1: And I’m gonna tell Mom/Jody/Dad/Bill

2: I DIDN’T!

3: Yes you did

2: Nuh-uh!

1: Yes –huh!

 

Yes-huh?  Who invented this?  And why is it that the number of syllables applied to the word “uh” is directly proportional to anger of the child talking whining?  When I hear, “Nuh- uh-h-h-h-h-h” I run and hide in the pantry because I know someone is coming to get me soon.  If the child delivering the multi-syllabic uh is also crying and/or throwing things, I’m always sure to grab the bottle of rum on my way to the pantry….I’m probably going to be in there for a while.

Apparently, our current 9-year-old issues are nothing compared to what we’re in for. 

 
They look innocent, but actually they're plotting our demise...

I have the same conversation every time I meet someone new.  First I tell the story of our family.  It is a classic [divorced] Guy [with three kids] Meets [also divorced] Girl [with three kids].  “Oh!  The Brady Bunch!”  They exclaim.  “How old are they?”

I reply, “The boys are 4 and 12, and the girls are 5, 9, 9 and 9.”  “Wow,” they say, “three 9-year-old girls?  Just you wait ‘til they are …”  And this is where the story varies.  Each person we meet has a different dangerous age we should be wary of, a different hellish story to go along with each number.  In short, I’m pretty sure we’re in trouble for the next 20 years or so…

“Just you wait ‘til they’re all 11!  You’ll be happy if they’re yelling at you because that’s the only time they’ll ever speak to you!  Unless they need a ride to the mall…” Oh, that sounds fun.  Can’t wait.

“Just you wait ‘till they’re all 12!  Can you imagine when they all get their periods at the same time?  You know girls in one family always synch up, right?”  Bill is especially scared of this one because there is the someday potential for 5 women in his house to be bitching at him at the same time.  I do actually feel pretty bad for him – maybe I’ll show him the pantry hiding spot. 

 “Just you wait ‘til they’re all 14 and they start high school!  They’ll all want a car and they’ll have a million different activities they’ll want to go to!”  All that AND an older brother who’s a senior…and has senior friends! Ahh!  We’ll need some kind of screening process for the boys and some sort of tracking system for the car…

 (Perhaps we should just put the girls in the pantry.)           

 “Just you wait ‘til they’re all 15 and they hate your guts!  No matter what you say is wrong!”  Fifteen sounds especially scary to me because I’m pretty sure that’s the age I was when my dad took my door off its hinges to keep me from slamming it.

  Just wait 'til we're 15.  This is what we'll look like every day.

“Just you wait ‘til they’re all 16 and you have to throw three Sweet Sixteen parties!”  I like throwing a party as much as anything, but sixteen-year-olds seem pretty dramatic and I’m pretty sure it’s tacky to drink rum at your kids’ birthday…

 “Just you wait ‘til they’re all 18 and all go to college at the same time!”  We have a financial plan for this one.  It’s called, “Winning the Lottery.”  Plan B is called “Scholarships.”  We’re pretty sure the girls could win scholarships for sports, academics and a beauty contest.  We’ll let you try to figure out which one is which.

  “Just you wait ‘til they’re in their twenties and you have to throw three weddings!”   

  Yikes!  I’m starting to hyperventilate.  If you need me, I’ll be hiding in the pantry until they’re all 25, graduated and married.  I’m takin’ the rum.  Don’t tell the kids where I am.

Surely these three lovely girls (on our wedding day) won't turn out to be THAT bad?  I'll keep you posted.

 

 © Jody Hoffman 2011

Wordless Wednesday - July 13, 2011

Emily, 2003

 

Gabby (Her Step-Sister) 2011

 

 

Okay so I can't follow directions - especially when it involves talking LESS.  So this is an "almost" Wordless Wednesday.  For those of you who are looking for my regular Wednesday posting, don't despair!  It's here:  Flyin'

I have joined a group called Wordless Wednesdays and from now on I will post stories on Tuesdays and Saturdays, and fabulous photos on Wednesdays.  Enjoy!

© Jody Hoffman 2011

The Fifth Question: Why Can't we Light the Paper Frogs on Fire?

Welcome to the continuation of the Special Holiday Edition of Blended!  That means 4 posts in 4 days!  Two regular posts: Wednesday and Saturday, and two special holiday posts: Easter yesterday, and Passover today.  Don't expect this next week...soccer season starts tomorrow!  Happy Reading...

 

*Facebook 4/18/11 - Seder highlights: Emily and Hannah singing the four questions, Brianna - “Hey! This prayer ends differently than the regular one.”  Bill – “fish meatball?!?!”

Passover* Seders* at my mom’s house in Boston were not what you’d call “traditional.”  We had 10-Plague* finger puppets, tablecloths you could write on and, one year, a contest involving jumping paper frogs* through the candles and landing in wine glasses.  This year that Seder happened 2,000 miles away, without me.  I was a little too busy (really?) to plan my own Seder, so I took my children, Bill and Brianna to the Seder at our small, conservative synagogue.

I prepped the kids ahead of time: Among other things, no paper frogs will be lit on fire here…  Brianna, who had been studying Passover in her religion classes at Catholic school, was confused – “We never heard anything about THAT!”  I explained the Passover story and holiday to Brianna, and listed which parts of Nana’s Seder would also be included in a conservative one.

My mom ordered us some Matzah* online.  (You can’t buy that here.) I bribed Sam to wear a nice shirt and dress pants (“We always get to wear jeans to Nana’s!) and reminded Emily and Hannah about using their best manners. (Nana doesn’t care!) At the Seder, there is a very specific order to things. I started to explain the all rules and organizational system to Bill and Brianna, but finally settled on one simple direction: “Don’t eat anything ‘til I eat it.”  We were ready.

On the way to the Seder, Brianna peppered me with questions. 

“What will we eat for dinner?” –Oh just you wait. 

“When we will eat dinner?” –Depending on how thorough we are…somewhere between 1 and 4 hours.

“Did you know that that baby in the basket was almost eaten by alligators before he got to the princess?” –Sounds like you were watching the Hollywood version of this story… 

“What’s Matzah?”

“Why’s it flat?”

“Will they have grape juice instead of wine?” 

“Is it okay if I say that we celebrated Easter yesterday?”

Well, we certainly don’t have the “Child-Who-is-too-Shy-to-Ask”* here.

 

The Seder turned out to be different, but fun.  The kids had a great time meeting other families and we even met a couple in a similar situation to ours (minus the six kids).  She had recently moved from Manhattan to live on a farm with her South Dakota boyfriend.  He asked if he could follow my “don’t eat ‘til I eat” rule, too. 

Brianna asked to sit next to me “so I can be sure I see what you’re doing.” As we said the blessings for wine, candles, matzah, Brianna suddenly turned to me with a lightbulb-face.  “Hey!” she whispered, “these prayers are just like Shabbat prayers, but with something else at the end!  I can do them!”  And she sang along.  I guess when we light candles on Friday night before dinner, everyone really IS paying attention!

Emily and Hannah had prepared for their role as the youngest children at the Seder: singing the Four Questions.* They had practiced for hours with Nana, using Skype.  When their turn came up, they sang beautifully, much to the amazement of the others in attendance.  Brianna, who often sits in on these practice sessions, even hummed along and knew a few of the words.

I think Bill enjoyed himself at the Seder.  He and the other guy with the East Coast City Girl girlfriend had LOTS to talk about, and he is always a fan of trying new foods.  He loved the matzah-meal popovers and charoset* but gave me the strangest look after putting the first piece of Gefilte Fish* in his mouth.  “What am I eating?” he asked accusingly.  I tried to explain the ingredients and the process through which Gelfilte Fish is made… “You just made me eat a COLD FISH MEATBALL?” 

Oy Vey.  Next year, I think I’m importing Nana for Passover instead of just the matzah.

 

Passover - to - English Dictionary:

*Passover: Jewish Holiday celebrated in the spring to remember the Israelites’ escape from Egypt.

*Seder: The dinner and service for Passover.  Seder means order and the celebration is very specifically ordered.  Most things are blessed before they are eaten and there are many traditions to follow.  Also can be very, very, very long.

*10-Plagues: 10 bad things brought down on the Egyptians in order to convince the Pharoah~ to set the Israelites free. (~Pharoah: Wishy Washy Egyptian King)

*Frogs: Often a focal point of Seders because they are way less gross than the rest of the plagues.

*Matzah: Flat, cardboard-like cracker made to resemble the bread cooked without rising in the Israelites hurry to leave Egypt.  Also, supposed to make us suffer.

*The Child Who is Too Shy To Ask: During the Seder, we discuss different types of children who may be attending our Seder and how to respond to each of their questions.  This is one type that Brianna is NOT.

*The Four Questions: traditionally sung by the youngest children in attendance, the four questions focus on what makes this night different from all other nights.  They are sung in Hebrew, and are the source of terror for many young children.

*Charoset: mixture of apples, nuts and wine, made to remind us of the mortar used by Israelites to build pyramids.  Also has wine to distract from the Matzah…

*Gefilte Fish: Bill’s description is pretty much dead-on.

 

© Jody Hoffman 2011

Easter Eggstravaganza

Welcome to the Special Holiday Edition of Blended!  That means 4 posts in 4 days!  Two regular posts: Wednesday and Saturday, and two special holiday posts: Easter today, and Passover tomorrow.  Clearly, soccer season hasn't started yet.  Happy Reading...

 

*Facebook 4/13/11 - In our house, the Easter Bunny comes a week early and brunch is at 9am.

 

We are not above moving holidays to suit our schedule.  Last year we had Thanksgiving on the second Thursday instead of the third.  We often celebrate birthdays early, late, several times…whatever works for us.  First we find a weekend when all six kids will be home.  Then we pick a day that doesn’t have any baseball, soccer, volleyball, basketball, archery or Girl Scout events.  Then we wait to see if everyone is healthy with all bones intact.   Then we check the weather to be sure that no snow storms, hail or flooding would impede our festivities. At that point, when we feel fairly certain that a day will work, we make sure it is within 6 weeks of the actual event we’re trying to celebrate and then write it on the calendar.  In pencil.

 

When we realized that we had all six kids and no sporting events the weekend before Easter this year, we figured we had a good chance of success.  As the date approached, we had no broken limbs and only one kid had strep. (Why do we always have strep?)  The impending snowstorm that was forecast would move our egg hunt indoors, but it seemed that we would be looking at snow until July, so that didn’t sway us.  The biggest selling point: celebrating Easter a week early meant not having to search for Kosher-for-Passover Easter Candy.  Done.

 

Bill and I bought most of the Easter section at the store.  The customer behind us in line questioned whether we were running a daycare or some sort of event.  This was not the first time I’ve been asked this question in line at the grocery store, so I replied, “No, we just REALLY like jelly beans.”

 

After arriving home the day before our Easter and sneaking the Easter Bunny-loot upstairs, I sent Bill to the store to buy the egg-coloring supplies we had forgotten.  As a non-egg-coloring-Jew, I was new to this activity and couldn’t understand why he had come home with a huge tarp-like plastic tablecloth in addition to the dye, egg dippers and cups.  I learned quickly.

 

I read the directions for egg-coloring:

1. Fill the plastic cup with water and vinegar.

2. Add the dye tab and stir.

3. Gently dip your hard-boiled egg into the water using the egg dipper.

4. Wait patiently.

5. Gently lift the egg out and carefully place it someplace safe to dry.

 

Dye? Gently? Patiently? I felt concerned.

 

Brianna, the egg-coloring expert was excited to initiate my children into the egg-coloring club.  Together, they dipped and dyed and even managed to create some multi-colored eggs.  They were gentle, patient and careful.  Bill worked with Levi and managed to keep things fairly neat and create some fun looking eggs.  I was in charge of Gabby.  Who dyes eggs with her hands.  And spills.  And doesn’t understand “patient” or “gentle.” 

 

Thanks for the tarp, Bill. 

Coloring eggs. Yup, those are Shabbat candles in the background

Immediately following the egg-coloring came the egg-eating portion of our holiday.  My kids had never loved hard-boiled eggs before, but somehow the fact that they were decorated made them exciting.  They were very disappointed, however, to discover that inside the fancy colored shell, there was a plain old boring white egg.   They devoured eggs until I cut them off for fear of stomach aches.  Our table was covered with shells and also yolks, (collectively deemed disgusting and uneatable).

 

            Egg heads                      Gabby fighting with the egg shell                    Leftovers

 

That night, we stayed up late filling baskets.   Actually, I separated, divided and loaded baskets with candy-filled eggs, stuffed bunnies and treats.  Bill ate jelly beans and cheered me on.   “Looks great, Babe.” 

 

 

In the morning, the kids engaged their traditional Holiday Morning Routine: waking each other up at 6am and then screaming and running around the house until we stumble out of bed.

  I I don’t wanna hear another peep outta you.

 

By the time we got downstairs, the kids were halfway through their candy-filled Easter baskets, and were joyfully watching the dogs find (and eat) all of the plastic Easter eggs we had hidden throughout the house.  We kenneled the dogs, and sent the kids running through the house to find what was left of the hidden eggs.

 

 

As the kids worked off their sugar-highs by jumping on the beds, we made brunch.  If you wake up at 6 am, then 9am really IS halfway between breakfast and lunch, so we just rolled with it.  Since it was our first Easter together we decided we could invent our own traditional feast.  So, we ate mini pigs in blankets, deviled eggs (called double eggs by everyone under 10 in this house and served on my grandmother’s special egg plate), popcorn chicken, cupcakes, cinnamon rolls…and bagels with cream cheese.  I know, I know, we are celebrating Easter here, but for the Jewish people, in my family anyway, brunch = bagels.  Besides, around here we just make what we think they will eat.

 

So our first family Easter was a success.  Here’s to flexibility, the dogs’ stomachs tolerating all the candy, starting new traditions, Spring (someday soon we hope) and a husband who understands the appropriate time and place for tarp-like table coverings.

 

© Jody Hoffman 2011

 

Men in Tights

*Facebook 3/26 - Today's events include (so far) a Girl Scout cooking event followed by watching my children shoot large stuffed animals with bows and arrows. Next up, houses that fly away and red, sequined shoes? Not quite used to this yet...

When Bill and I were “extreme long-distance” dating (read: talking on the phone 5 hours a night, texting all day and going broke flying back and forth across the country), I often imagined him in tights.  Yup, tights.  You see, Bill is an archer..er.  archer?  Archery-er?  Bill shoots things with a bow and arrow.  After I wrapped my East Coast-raised, hippie-parented brain around the shooting part, I had to deal with my preconceived image of what an archer looked like.  Robin Hood. 

 

In addition to tights, I also imagined that the bow Bill was using looked exactly like the cartoon version of Robin Hood’s bow: one string, curved wooden handle.  My sheltered imagination was not prepared for the shockingly dangerous looks of Bill’s actual bow – a compound bow (read: lots of bells and whistles, gears and moving parts, many strings, steel bar).  He laughed when I told him about my Robin Hood image of him, and then promptly dressed himself head to toe in camouflage and left with his big ole bow and a container of $100 arrows to go sit halfway up a tree in subzero weather waiting for Bambi.  (Sorry, judgmental.  I’m still working on accepting the part where Bambi dies. If you think  I’M having trouble with this, you should have seen my New York City grandmother’s face when she walked into our basement for the first time and saw the deer and antelope heads hanging on the wall.  She’s lucky - when I first visited him at his “bachelor pad,” those heads were hanging next to the front door!)

       

*Facebook 9/24 Am I the only one who desperately wants to play hide and seek when someone puts on camo?

I am getting used to seeing him in his hunting garb and the bow doesn’t scare me anymore.  I close my eyes when I go into the basement so as to not make eye contact with the dead animals.  But there is nothing that could have prepared me for the sight of my own pretty-in-pink daughter pulling the string back on her very own bow last week at the archery club shoot out.   Hannah’s long blond ponytail swung side to side as she closed one beautiful eye and looked through her sights.  Her pink fleece stood out in stark contrast to the men and boys around her in their camo outfits.  Then she drew back, and SHOT THE ARROW RIGHT INTO THE MIDDLE OF THE (foam) BEAR!  Have you ever felt scared, surprised, shocked and proud at the same time?  Wow.

     

*Facebook 3/29 Quote from Hannah, you know, the one who wears pink every single day of her life?  “Look mom!  I shot the bear right in the vital organs!”  Where am I? What is going on?  (It was a foam bear and a bow and arrow.)

 

Sam has also become very involved in the archery club.  When he told me last summer that he wanted to try, I thought it was a pretty expensive “phase,” but I went along with it.  He was taking the old, “When in Rome…” mentality and I thought it would be a great place for him to make friends. (But not with the deer, I guess.)  Sam is not known for an especially long attention span – nor am I – but he was dedicated to the project.  All summer we found him practicing in the backyard, shooting at targets, trees and usually not his siblings.  He is good!  Even Bill was impressed.  When he went to the end-of-the-year shoot out at archery club, (Yes, there’s a building on Main Street in our town devoted entirely to bow shooting.) Sam decided to shoot with the Young Adults instead of the Cubs as his 12^th and defining birthday was right around the corner.  His score would have won the Cub division, and wasn’t good enough to place in Young Adult, but once again he managed to impress me with his dedication to this new activity and his willingness to challenge himself.   His most impressive achievement of the year, however, was when he shot a bull’s-eye and then shot another arrow right into the first one.  An expensive accomplishment, as it ruined both arrows, but his face when he presented me with the two joined arrows: priceless.  “Mom! Mom!  Guess what this is called?!  A Robin Hood!” 

      

I’m not looking forward to mounting any dead animals,  and to be honest, I’m not sure I’ll ever actually let them go on a real hunt, but I’m proud of my children for trying something new and totally out of their East Coast element.  And as for Robin Hood, my patient husband, I love watching him bond with my children, even if it is over weapons, targets and camouflage.  I love watching his prideful look when they do well at something he taught them, and I love that he has never and (I predict) will never, wear tights.

© Jody Hoffman 2011

The Theme of this Party is "Fire Hazard"

I love a good party, and a good challenge.  This is why Gabby and I are well matched.  Gabby knows what she wants and it doesn’t really matter whether the rest of the world thinks it is possible or not. Example: Last fall, Gabriella decided she wanted to be CORN for Halloween.  No store or internet site offered such a costume (popcorn: yes, corn-dog: yes, CORN: NO.) and no amount of suggesting, hinting or bribing would convince Gabby that Tinkerbell or a kitten or even a pumpkin would be just as good.  So…we made the corn costume.

*Facebook 10/31: Aaaand Gabby wins the Costume Contest at the Mall...obviously.

 

 

 

I was holding my breath as we asked Gabby what the theme of her birthday party would be this year.  In the past, I have hosted Butterfly, Teddy Bear, Tea for Two, Fairy, Beach, Rainforest, Nutcracker and Rock Star Diva parties for Emily and Hannah.  Sam has celebrated Train, Golf, Mickey Mouse, Square (yes, he was four), Bowling, Hard Rock, Harlem Globetrotters, and Football parties.  But this was the first party I would get to throw for Gabby.  She thought about her party theme for a long time until one day in February when she walked up to me and sat down at the table.  She handed me my cake decorating book, crossed her arms and said, “Let’s talk about my birthday, Jo-ee (Gabby-to-English Translation: That’s me).  You got any horsey cakes in there?”  Okay.  A horse birthday.  I can do it.

 

“What do you want to do at your horsey birthday, Gabby?” I asked.

“Old McDonald Hide and Seek.”

“Oh.  What else?”

“Big Horsey.”

“Okay, done.  And?”

“Friends.  Cake.  Okay, Jo-ee?”

 

Okay.  Sounds doable, right?  But what is Old McDonald Hide and Seek?  Once again, no internet search revealed any definition and no one had ever heard of such a game.  We would have to make it up.  I can handle this.  This ain’t my first rodeo! (South Dakota to Boston translation: this is not my first time having this experience.)

 

“Jo-ee!  Hay too.”

Oh, of course.

 

So I planned and shopped and organized and by the weekend of the party, we were good to go.

 

*Facebook 3/5:  Shopping for Gabby's bday party-cake ingredients: check! Goody bags: check! Balloons: check! Hay bale: check! Wait-what?!?! That's how we roll.

 

In preparation for the party, I decorated little horse cupcakes, planned “Old McDonald Hide and Seek” and made Gabby trailmix for our guests (mini marshmallows, chocolate chips, pretzels, fruit loops, cheerios and gummy Dora the Explorers).  I made goody bags of horsey themed items wrapped up in bandanas inside cowgirl hats.  We bought Gabby an adorable little cowgirl outfit and all the other kids joined in with their plaid, their bandanas and their boots.  I stuffed a hay bale full of prizes and candy and Bill dragged it into the middle of our living room.  (He decided we had to put a tarp under it - so boring.)  I hung the huge horsey cut out with the pink streamer tail in the family room.  I covered every inch of the house in pink streamers, because if you’re planning something for Gabby, more is good.  As I laced the streamers in and out of our light fixtures, I asked Bill to set up for the S’mores we were planning to make in the fireplace after the kids finished tearing apart the hay bale in the living room.

 

“So the theme of this party is…fire hazard?” asked my responsible, likes-to-think-things-through-and-not-burn-the-house-down husband. “How ‘bout I pick up the hay after that activity while you play McDonald Hide and Seek.  THEN we can start the fire for the S’mores.”

 

This is why I picked him. I think of fun ridiculous ideas and he goes along with them, but he also guards against the circling emergency vehicles.

 

*Facebook 3/6: 2day's festivities include: "needle" in a haystack searching 4 prizes, pin the pink tail on the pink horse, horse cupcakes & Old McDonald's Farm hide + seek, Gabbi-fied trailmix + goody bags inside cowboy hats w/ bandanas! PS Bill is wearing a western shirt...he's getting a bandana 2, but doesn't know yet. Now where did I put those boots???

 

When Gabby walked into the house an hour before her party was to begin, her eyes grew wide and her mouth fell open.  She stood still, shaking for almost a full minute.  Then, suddenly, she started screaming!  She ran around and around the hay bale and from room to room pointing at things and saying, “My Party? My Party!” 

 

 

 

Gabby loved every minute of her Horsey birthday and I loved every minute too.  Sometimes in this step-mother/step-daughter dance routine we’re learning, we step on toes and fall down, but this day was a perfect ten.   And we didn’t burn the house down, either.

 

 

 

 

Next week is Sam’s birthday party.  As he grows he gets “cooler” and less likely to want a party with a theme.  “I just wanna hang out with my friends in the playroom and watch a movie okay?  And can you order some pizza?”  He is letting me make a cake, but I wasn’t allowed to buy fun plates or balloons.  Also, I’m pretty sure he’s going to make me take the pink streamers down.

 

© Jody Hoffman 2011