NUMBER 500

OK, this is post number 500 on this blog - yay, me.  As it is my custom, I would like to dedicate this entry to something - or someone - special.  And this time I am dedicating it to Beloved Nephew.

He was a bit of a cranky baby, and, most memorably, hated riding in the car.  He developed an instant bond with his big sister - and his extra crib sheet was pink. His smile from the very beginning was full of mischief - and sweetness.

He loves to help with cooking, baking, and cleaning.  He loves cats and dogs.  He is a great younger brother - and a fantastic older one.  He loves all his sisters, takes care of them, babysits them, and makes sure that they get as many treats and presents as he does.  He admires the members of the IDF - and likes to dress like one on Purim.  He always makes sure to call his grandma, grandpa, and his cool aunt every Friday to wish them Shabat Shalom.

He is the best son, grandson, or nephew anyone can wish for.  He is a fantastic boy!  We love you, SiM!  May The Heavenly Father bless you, watch over you always, and help you grow into a fantastic man!

NUMBER 300 - WELCOME, BABY NIECE!

This is 300^th entry to this blog – gosh, I have been really prolific (insert sarcasm)! But, being specially numbered, this entry is dedicated to my tiniest niece.

Yes, to my everlasting shame, I never posted about her birth before now! So, to rectify my error – I got another niece!! She was born on December 28, beating her oldest sister, Mini Beloved Sibling, by 3 days on the general calendar, but trailing behind her on the Hebrew one – she was due on Chanukah, but took her sweet time coming. As a matter of fact, she took so much time deciding to join us, that medical workers already wanted to assist her – but in the end, she arrived on her own, almost literally at the 11^th hour. And, on the side note, her birth convinced me, once again, that even with supposedly decent doctors and nurses, socialized medicine stinks to high heaven.

Her birth was eagerly anticipated by her older siblings and she was greeted with fantastic smiles upon their first meeting. They get upset when she cries, fight over the privilege to hold her, and eagerly assist with the diaper changes. Her big brother was a bit discomfited after finding out that he had another sister – but his smile upon seeing her for the first time was the biggest!

So, here is to you, our beautiful girl, the first member of our family to be born in the Holy Land! We love your delicious chubby cheeks and innocent smiles! May The Heavenly Father bless your fuzzy head and protect it always!

PS: Editor's note – for the lack of better definition, she will be thereupon referred to in this publication as Baby.

THE HEIRLOOM SWEATER

UPDATED

At the end of her first pregnancy my sister decided to slowly start getting baby clothes here and there – only exceptionally cute stuff, mind you. But since she decided not to find out whom she was having, all the deliciousness had to be neutral colors – or blue. Her reasoning? Baby girl in blue is cute; baby boy in pink – not so much. And so it happened that one of her purchases was a beautifully knit powder blue sweater from Osh Kosh.

Of course we know that in the end she had Golden Delicious, who, I might add, wore all those neutral and blue outfits (as well as the multitude of the pink ones) with panache. And, yes, the blue Osh Kosh sweater was put on her couple of days after she came home from the hospital for her first visit to the pediatrician – it was January in New York, and it was pretty nippy! The staff decided that Eh was a boy, and then asked if she inherited the blue sweater from her older brother – silly, silly people!

After the blue creation from Osh Kosh warmed Eh enough times, it was pressed into diligent and faithful service to MMM. And then, after she grew out of it, that piece of clothing was adorning the family Mickey Mouse, as well as other assorted dolls. And, finally, about 2 months ago, we put it on the news baby (who is also a girl)! It was still bright blue, beautiful, and warm. The only member of the family not to wear the heirloom piece of clothing? Yep, you guessed it – that would be Neffie Pooh! Even though, as a boy, he was sort of the most entitled to it, he was born in the early summer – and by the time it was cold enough for him to wear any kind of sweater, that particular one was too small for him.

And, that, my friends, is a cute story of the heirloom blue sweater beautifully knitted by Osh Kosh.

Update: Just saw another doll wearing The Sweater! The tradition continues!

TO MY BELOVED NIECE, ON HER BIRTHDAY

My Dearest Eh,

Because of the circumstances beyond my control, this is the first of your birthdays (and hopefully last) that we are spending apart. But being apart from you only made me think once again of all the things that make me love you so much.

We met when you were about fifteen minutes old. The delivery room only allows so many extras inside, so, while you were born, I ended up in a little visitors lounge trying to calm down your grandfather - who was making valiant attempts at making huge holes in the cheep floors of that lounge.

Your mommy didn't want to know in advance if she was having a little boy or a little girl, so, while you were swimming inside of her, you were just “Baby” - that is, till the first sonogram; at which point my dear sister declared that “Baby” looked like a little alien – and the moniker stuck. So, you were “Alien”, and then, being a real American, your mommy shortened it to “Alie”; she also claimed that the sound of your heartbeat was her favorite techno music. Meanwhile, your aunt (I), who always enjoyed escaping into her daydreams, for some reason kept imagining that Alie would be a little girl, and that both of us would become wonderful friends.

So, after that tiny scare that you gave us upon your arrival, your Aba came into that room and told us “It's a girl”; you can't begin to imagine the joy and relief those simple words brought to us. We all crowded into your mommy's room to meet the newest member of our family. My sister looked exhausted – and transformed by happiness. In her arms she cradled a tiny bundle; my first words were “ Oh, my Gd! That's Alie?” You looked red and wrinkled – in the best traditions of all newborn. You were sucking your whole fist, and your smart, beautiful eyes kept looking at all the people around you. And all the people in the room were forever transformed.

We ended up spending a lot of time together. I was your first official babysitter – the most neurotic one you ever had (so far). I made sure you were always very clean – and did your laundry with almost fanatical precision. I made sure to circulate all your outfits – and took at least one picture in each one. I had the precise inventory of all your toys in my head. I cleaned and emptied your stroller after every excursion outside. Sometimes I took you to Dr. Sima – and believe me, all those shots hurt me as much as they did you. You officially became a New Yorker when you took your first subway ride – and your dear aunt discovered the exact percentage of jerks riding that subway. Also thanks to me, you had your first brush with jury duty (but that is a separate story).

Even after I got an “official” job, I made sure to spend as much time with your as possible. You were an ideal baby – good tempered and extremely friendly; you used to smile at anything remotely resembling a human shape. You were not an exceptionally fussy eater (although you refused to drink formula under any circumstances).

It was you who first called me “Papi”.

After you got a bit bigger, we began to explore the city. Your MacLaren Techno saw more subway cars than any tourist. We went everywhere – The Met, Central Park, FAO Schwartz, Times Square, Toys R Us in Times Square, Upper West Side, Upper East Side, Central Park Zoo, Prospect Park Zoo, Columbus Circle, Borders, Banes and Noble - needless to say, the list is pretty extensive. Most notable among them was Dylan's Candy Shoppe – in whose subbasement you took your first unaided steps!! Those steps were duly witnessed by your mommy, your Papi, largish number of tourists, and half the floor of Dylan's overpriced, but fantastic merchandise.

It was on those trips when your presence literally saved me. You see, after surviving 9/11 and the year following it, Lower Manhattan was something that brought tears and an overwhelming desire to avoid it as much as possible. But when I started roaming with you, all of the sudden it was OK to go to Battery Park City. That park became our favorite destination. Your company in WFC, by the Famous Bull statue, in Whitehall – it just leached away pain. I saw you running in Winter Garden, dressed in your snappy pink outfit from Gymboree and waiving a piece of pastry – and the horrific picture of that place lying in ruins...it did not bother me as much. Gd willing, when you get older, I hope you will understand just how incredibly special that was; how incredibly special you are, my Eh.

Because, you see, that is not all. When you were born, we didn't just get a beloved daughter, granddaughter, and niece – you were the first member of your mommy's family to be born on American soil; to be born free. Your ancestors survived it all – virulent anti-Semitism, Muslim and Christian persecutions, Communists, Nazis, Holocaust...When you started attending Jewish school – it was beyond triumph for our family. And when you excelled in your studies, especially Judaic Studies – we were beyond happy tears. That is how special you and your younger siblings are, Eh, – we triumphed over all that hatred and repeated attempts to wipe us out – and we were blessed by the Almighty with you!

You are beautiful inside and out. You clearly inherited your mommy's musical and artistic talents – with Gd help, you will grow to nurture these talents. You are smart and kind – and you clearly inherited our family's “love” for homework. You are a great older sister – although you don't always appreciate your siblings:).

May The Heavenly Father continue to protect you, your siblings, and your parents; and may He always bestow His blessings on us all!

Happy Birthday!

I love your curly, fluffy head,

Your Papi.

YES, I AM THAT KNOWLEGEBLE

Recently, MBS started a very serious discussion with her Grandmother about her shoes – well, she is a girl, after all. The said conversation concluded, of course, with a request to acquire a very specific kind of footwear for Golden Delicious – but that is just the title.

After painstakingly describing the necessary shoes in all the glorious details, MBS suggested to her Yummy to inquire of Papi as to where the said shoes could be acquired!

Now, yours truly has a basic map of city’s libraries and bookstores committed to memory; I can give you subway directions better than half of the MTA employees; I know where to acquire a great cup of coffee or a kosher meal (or at least a snack) in your wanderings around Manhattan; but fashion plate I am empathically not! Nobody who knows me well would ever ask me about the best place for any kind of fashion acquisition – nobody who is an adult, that is.

In the unshakable logical perception of my niece, if Papi knows where the huge, three story candy shop is, or how to get to a shiny chocolate store, or how to visit Mickey by going on choo choo train, then Papi is the best go to person when you need a specific pair of shoes (at least I think so). I love you, my big Curly Gnome!

FAN CLUB SPEAKETH

Few weeks ago, due to slight scheduling conflict, I ended up spending the night at Beloved Sibling’s. So, in the morning, munchkins were asked to guess who slept over. Golden Delicious, after hearing certain tell tale signs, sagely pronounced “Papi”. What were the signs?, you ask; well, Papi snores. So, to every single person who ever had a misfortune of sharing sleeping quarters with me, it was a source of, um, major annoyance; to MBS it is a sign of her cool aunt’s presence.

Then, one fine Sunday, after a fun-filled expedition to the Bronx Zoo, moppets were paying a social call on George and Gracie. Here is what Beloved Nephew had to say: “Papi, I love your ducky bathroom! I love everything about your home!”

One of the biggest blessings in life is the innocent and unconditional love of a little child.

MORE OF IRREFUTABLE LOGIC

As mentioned before, this author is not extremely observant in mundane situations, and definitely would not be able to tell the color of the metal polls in the kiddy playground. That changed after Curly and Blondie kept talking about red park as opposed to blue park or green park. What??? Well, Papi, it’s elemental, really: the name of the park is defined by the color of the polls that make up slides and other things usually found there; such naming, according to their grandfather, could only be done using pure logic of little children.


Recently, Beloved Sibling unearthed a couple of gorgeous shots of MBS taken at the approximate current age of MMM. “So, do you think these are the pictures of MMM?” “No, Mommy, it’s me!” “How do you know?” “I had more hair then MMM.” - Very logical, never mind a brilliant observation.


Recently, yours truly decided to re-introduce the gnomes to the beauties and enjoinment of local library (fantastic customer service and liberal control not withstanding). All went well till they realized that the borrowed materials, especially the very enjoyable cartoons, had to be returned. The explanations of the necessity of these actions took few tries and are still not entirely completed. And, few days ago, in the entirely natural progression, Blondie enquired as to whether or not I returned the “wedding” (video of his parents’ wedding which him and Older Sister looooove to watch) to the library. Pure, flawless logic!

MEMBERSHIP GOING STRONG

This past weekend we were blessed with fantastic spring weather. So, off to the pak in double stroller on choo choo train we went.

Unfortunately, around half the city had the same bright idea (not necessarily involving choo choos, but still), and the playground was overcrowded. Both munchkins, not being of retiring nature when in familiar crowds, usually grow painfully shy in the unfamiliar once. So, after a little while of playing monkey bars, sliding, and swinging – all accompanied by holding Papi’s hand as a reassurance – Blondie politely requested to be taken home: his cue that he is not very happy with the present situation. Big Sister concurred. Papi, feeling bad that her favorite Munchkins did not enjoy themselves on such gorgeous day offered to go to the big place with palm trees (Winter Garden to the tourists), and visit chocolate shop. The said idea was approved, and the course taken.

In the chocolate shop (Godiva boutique to the tourists) we got a lot of enjoyment just by looking around with mouths slightly open. Then we proceeded to the counter for the truffle selection. So, the appropriate pieces were picked up for Mommy, for Abba, and, of course, for Curly and Blondie. After this ritual, Papi went to the cashier to pay, and that was when MBS looked at me and pointedly reminded her aunt that we seem to have forgotten MMM. “But, honey, MMM is still a baby; she is not allowed to have chocolates yet; she only drinks milk.” MBS just looked at me and pronounced with exasperation reserved for thick-sculled adults: “For when she grows up, Papi! Then she could eat it!”

I love you, my beautiful gnome!

BELOVED NEPHEW SHINES AGAIN

Few More Unrelated Episodes


While playing with snow in the driveway, observed “friendly” neighbor running out of her house in just a skirt and a T-shirt. “Where is your jacket?” – not just as an inquiry, but a question an exasperated adult would ask a silly child.


While preparing to depart for the park, I asked him to pick up his toys. Unfortunately, my mind was a total blank, and I could not remember the English word for shovel. So, my request came out as “please pick up this, whatever you call it”; “shovel” – was the helpful response.


After being reminded for the umpteenth time that his beloved baby sister is not a toy, and therefore could not be pocked in the eye, he responded “I counting her eyebrows”.

SOME MORE WISDOM FROM BELOVED NEPHEW

As previously mentioned, MBS and MNM know me as Papi. MBS, being a big girl, understands that her cool aunt also goes by another name; for MNM it is a bit of a different story.


So, a few days ago, a family friend, who, in the best traditions of our community, also happens to be the mother of MBS’s favorite classmate, came to Beloved Sibling’s house to pick up her progeny. In the process of doing this, she also informed Blondie that she knows his aunt Barb – which information was completely indigestible to our big boy. After being informed of this amusing incident, I asked him if he knows who Barb is – blank stare. “It’s I, SiM”. With a superior, I-do-not-have-patience-for-this-nonsense-young-lady-look, Beloved Nephew very firmly told me “you Papi!”; case closed.


A little while before that, he was playing with my wallet and came upon my NRA membership card. “Ducky” –was his exited observation. “No, sweetie, that’s an eagle.” “No, ducky!” “No, big boy, that birdie does not look like a ducky at all”. “Ducky!” Now I just have to inform NRA that apparently their seal was changed.


And, in slightly related news, a love seat in the living room received a serious kicking yesterday after Golden Delicious bumped herself on it. “You no hurt Eh, you bad boy!” – were the admonishing words that accompanied the kicks.

HEART-WARMING

This short story took place one fine evening few months ago.


During the elaborate ceremony otherwise known as Mini Beloved Sibling’s Preparations For The Night we were watching a clip of Barney’s show in Radio City. They were singing something about loving special people in our lives; in the middle of this MBS turned to me with the sweetest smile on her face and told me in no uncertain terms “You are special, Papi!”


Later in the night, while I was decompressing in my humble abode, Beloved Sibling informed me via telephone conversation that Mini Not Me, who sometimes speaks during sleep, was mumbling something about “pak” and other enjoyable things; and in the middle of this slumber monologue he very clearly said “Papi”.


To use the old overused expression, my cup have truly runneth over.

THE IRREFUTABLE LOGIC OF THE YOUNG

Due to the recent festivities in the Beloved Sibling’s household, both MBS and MNM were exposed to sugar cubes in an attractive packaging. The said attractive packaging produced a strong desire in both munchkins to consume the said sugar cubes. So, Papi was given an official request to obtain the objects lately in vogue.


Papi agreed and promptly forgot – the disadvantages of the middle age coupled with the unfulfilled need for the visit to the local supermarket.


Lo and behold, few nights ago MNM asked me again for the dratted sugar cubes. I apologized for not getting them before and added (truthfully) that I have not been to the grocery since the official request was issued. The apology was graciously accepted, and the request not only repeated, but clarified. Apparently, I am now dispatched to obtain Spiderman sugar cubes for the neffie pooh and Hello Kitty sugar cubes for his older sister!

MY FAN CLUB

I have a fun club; it consists of two members: Curly and Blondie.

They do not care about my hair do, unless it is to play with my hair while sitting on my shoulders. They do not care about the lack of makeup on my face - they just love to play with the contents of my makeup case. They do not care that I am fat - they just know that it is hard to push the swing if I am in it. They do not care about my unfashionable wardrobe - they just like the pictures on my T-shirts, and love when we are wearing matching colors. They never criticize me for wearing flip-flops - but they always know which shoes by the door belong to me (and they love to wear them). They do not criticize my taste in music - they just love to sing and dance with me, and I even taught Curly how to twirl. They do not criticize my taste in books - they just love when I read to them while we cuddle on the couch. They do not care about my poor career choices - they just know that I go to work most of the time, but visit them in the evenings, on Shabat, and on Sundays. They do not care about my lack of money - they love the little presents I buy for them, and they are perfectly content to just play with the stuff I cannot afford while in the store and just ask me to come and buy it for them another time (whenever I have money). They do not criticize me for my messy apartment - they just love to visit and explore. They do not care about my haphazard cooking skills - they just love my pasta.


In their eyes I am Papi - the height of cool! The person who takes them on the most adventurous journeys to places with huge windows that serve ice tea and cookies, three-stories candy stores, toy stores, and park with sand by the water; and the only person who takes them to all these on the mysterious and noisy choo-choo train!


I will tell you a little secret, my yummy and delicious gnomes - you are my absolutely favorite people too. May Hashem bless your fluffy Jewish heads!

SUNDAY AFTER SHAVUOT

Sunday after Shavuot came out with a mixed promise of rain and sunshine, and the unbeatable desire to sleep. But the labor of love called, and I took out Mini Me on the outing to our favorite "pak".

It proved out to be another adventure filled Sunday with my favorite niece. As usual, her stubborn delicious fluffy Jewish head succumbed to Morpheus on the way there, which gave me few minutes to read my book and surreptitiously collect the disapproving stares - where are the envirowacos when you need them? Yes, her Maclaren (plus she in it) occupies around half the space of one of those fruitcakes with a bicycle, but earns waaaay more dirty stares. What gives? After all, we are traveling according to the "green" guidelines (sarcasm intended).

She awoke few minutes after we disembarked. Upon observing the ever thickening and darkening clouds, I asked her if she wanted to go to the park or the book store. "Pak" was her resolute answer. So, off to the park we went - right into a little skirmish.

There was a whole bunch of young activists positioned at most of the corners and by all the major entrances on the block. Somehow I knew they did not collect signatures to support troops or hand out invitations to the next tea party. Upon closer inspection I spied "DNC" clearly stamped across their uniform t-shirts. Approaching closer, I heard something about "healthcare reform". And then I reached one of them, who approached me with an opening salvo of "you supported Obama..."; it was a statement of fact, and not a question. That was the clichéd final straw: “I? Support Obama? I wish he would drop dead!" Thus shocking the poor, wide-eyed product of systematic brainwashing by the likes of Lee Bollinger and Ward Churchill, we proceeded to the park; and yours truly could feel few pairs of eyes drilling holes in her retreating back and sending her death rays. OK, Barb, note to self: next time just tell them to buzz off if you have one of your young charges with you. After all, you never know when it would escalate to more than death ray looks; and for the record, I do not want him dead (why should he become a martyr?); but that is a separate discussion.

After we arrived at the park, we had a grand time snaking in the grass, running around, and swinging. I also had fun by surreptitiously photographing Curly, who was not in the mood to be thusly immortalized, so I also got a few great shots of trees and sky.

Shortly after, the said sky started producing moisture otherwise known as rain, and I finally persuaded Mini Me to go to the book store. Of course, she decided to balk at her plastic rain cover, so I had to really run, which is really a fun activity when you try to run in the rain in flip-flops while pushing a stroller.

In the book store (B and N, of course), I was entertained by a wonderful spectacle of polite gentleman also running, this time in front of the woman with the stroller (yours truly), so he can get the last table at the cafe, so the above-mentioned woman with the stroller should scramble in order to find a place where she can feed the child in the stroller - who said that chivalry was dead?

After the snack and the fascinating visit to the ladies, where Mini Me always points out at the changing table with "this is where you changed me when I was a teeny tiny baby, Papi" (all of half a year ago), we made our way into the children's department. Once there, we started by reading her beloved "Olivia". Unfortunately, that did not last long. She started running around and exploring the "pricier" parts of the department. Long story short, we left the store laden with a magnetic doll with an interchangeable wardrobe, plush panda (which was declared Mini Me's new best friend), and a plush chipmunk for Mini Not Me. In between horsing around and trying to lighten my wallet, she also tried to play with other kids there. Unfortunately, the couple that she tried to engage (and their parents) proved to be on the snobby side. Their loss - Curly is a fantastic company (never mind her favorite auntie).

On the way back she kept hugging her new panda - maybe it really is her new best friend? She also kept insisting that we were on the wrong choo choo, and should get off immediately; I think she got overwhelmed by the amount of people on the said choo choo, but interesting diversionary tactic none the less. When Mini Not Me was presented with a chipmunk, another adult proclaimed him to be a hamster. Only the next morning, when I was doing my neurotic routine by cleaning my bag and incidentally discovered the ticket belonging to that animal did I find out that is was guinea pig! Go figure! As of press time, this animal has a permanent living space in Blondie’s bed, and goes by the name of chipmunk anyway.

MY BED BY ANY OTHER NAME…

On Monday night, I was babysitting for the beloved sibling. Since both munchkins completed their nightly ritual with the parent of their choice, I somehow assumed that I would have a quite couple of hours. Ha!

Around five minutes after the departure of beloved sibling and sibling-in-law, in the middle of a leisurely dinner, I heard the dreaded "Mommy"! The soft tones of that call pointed at Mini Not Me. Yours truly ran upstairs to discover Beloved Nephew in total distress. "No, Mommy! Uh (want) Mommy!" Mortally afraid that his bellows would wake up older sister, I evacuated Blondie downstairs (against his initial vehement protests).

Upon arrival into the living room, Mini Not Me perked up right away, demanded to be released, and proceeded to the bookshelf, from which he plucked a book and asked me to read it. On each page of this book (which was about the life on the farm, by the way) he found something that he wanted Papi to purchase for him. In between trying to explain that those purchases require a farm, or at least a much larger property than the one presently occupied, I was trying to coax him to return upstairs. The main theme was: "let's go to Mommy's bed and watch cakes (cooking channel)". No dice; finally we were able to reach the middle ground, and Mini Not Me agreed to go upstairs and watch something on the computer. OK, Papi, baby steps (pun intended).

So, I fired up YouTube and showed Blondie some kind of cartoon clip. In the middle of the presentation he visibly lost interest and was trying to request something else; after removing his pacifier I realized, to my pleasant amazement, that he wanted to go to Mommy's bed and watch cakes! Pursuant to this request, I took him to the bedroom, put him on Mommy's bed, and was about to look for remote control when he politely asked to be put down into his bed! Then, it was business as usual: blankey, bear, penguin, chipmunk (don't ask); after which he just requested my presence in the room, rolled on his side, and went to sleep! Ah, the logic of the young!

FEW INTERESTING TIDBITS ABOUT MUNCHKINS

When they were babies, they were both on the baldish side, especially Mini Not Me, whose head had almost as much hair as his knees. Now they both have beautiful heads of hair, representing, among many things, interesting genetic mix. Mini Me's hair is light brown, with golden highlights and crazy curls, which (if she lets) can become beautiful ringlets. Mini Not Me, on the other hand, is dark blond, also with golden highlights, but pretty straight (with occasional curl thrown in for fun). As a result, they are both called Fluffies, but only Mini Me is called Curly; Mini Not Me, on the other hand, is called Blondie.

Like any decent American kids, they spent a decent amount of time traveling in cars. For Mini Me, it is Aba's car and Mommy's car; for Mini Not Me, it is Aba's car and our car.

Mini Not Me has very interesting color recognition system: he knows black; everything else is either orange or purple. "What color is Mommy's car?" "Our car is orange (or purple, depending on his mood)". In mundane reality, the said car is white.

My purse is considered by both of them something of the equivalent of the Aladdin’s cave; therefore, as soon as I show up, they usually proceed to turn it upside down and start hunting for treasures. Sometimes they get a surprise - something they did not see before; but usually those are the same items over and over again. That does not really deter them, as those items are usually the coveted prizes (it may also have something to do the fact that I have a “Princess Belle” wallet and “Play With Your Food” Calendar); but anything, even without obvious pictures, is fun and fair game. One time Mini Me got a hold of my wallet, emptied it of all contents (and believe me, it was quite full), and arranged everything into the known only to her sub-categories. Another time, when we were on the subway coming home, and she was getting a bit cranky, I, in a fit of desperation, took out my key chain and explained to her the meaning of every single discount card attached to it (again, I have a pretty decent number of those). She perceived it as a game of recognition, and now periodically likes to take that blessed key chain (which in itself is a Hogwarts crest) and name all the cards. On another subway trip, in the similar circumstances, I took out my calendar and just went over the pictures, explaining what was on it and how fruits and veggies were arranged to resemble the subject. She again perceived it as a legitimate reading material, and few times I spotted her filching that effing calendar out of my bag and reading it. Mini Not Me, on the other hand, once filched out my Politically Incorrect Guide to Constitution and attempted to read that one.

On our last outing, I noticed an interesting thing about Mini Not Me: he sits in his stroller with one leg bent at an angle and its ankle on the opposite knee. The first time I perceived somebody sitting like this was back in Moscow, when they were interviewing some English speaking foreigner. I have no blessed idea who that dude was or what the interview was all about, but that relaxed posture was burnt in my mind as an example of a free Westerner. And now Beloved Nephew, all of two years old, is sitting exactly like this in his stroller! All I can say is “thank G-d” – for many, many things.

Mine Me, as noted on many previous occasions, is a great member of our club (the club of oldest sisters, that is). She takes her responsibilities very seriously. So, one time, when I was giving both of them a bath, I saw her performing our "scrubby" song and routine on her brother - she was bathing him, using the song I composed for her, again in a fit of desperation, when she was less than eighteen months old. Let me tell you something - moments like this are more precious than rubies.

WEEKEND UPDATE

Editor's note: this post was originally slated to appear on May 18. Due to the circumstances beyond my control (as in I actually had to work) it appears today instead.

OK, here is another weekend update.

My weekend tale started Friday night at the house of the friend where I usually get into "discussions". This time she had over "family friends" whom I met before, and who got themselves imprinted on my memory due to the extreme chutzpah displayed by their "baby". Anyway, I was determined to keep my tongue firmly behind my teeth or occupied with food only.

That resolution lasted till the conversation topic veered in the general direction of education, at which point the matriarch of the family uttered the brilliant phrase about math not being necessary for the general education since "you hardly use it anyway"; and about two minutes later history was relegated to the same pile. At which point my tongue could not taste the soup in peace and decided to speak in defense of math (forget about history) to the tune of it being beneficial to the occasional exercise of your brains. Yea, right! That opinion, though seconded by our hostess, still remained in minority. Few minutes later Pater familias enquired about my present occupation; upon hearing that I work as an office manager in an architectural firm, his wife promptly proclaimed that that is the reason why I think math is necessary! I just clarified that my job is purely administrative, and has nothing to do with architecture, but that did not really deter her; few minutes later the conversation progressed to makeup. Oy, gevalt! Who was it that claimed that we are the smartest nation?

Next day, Mini Me was full of anticipation: she had a play date with one of her friends from playgroup. She was feeling very grown up, and even expressed the desire to have cholent (in her mind it was: have meal=eat cholent, then go to her friend). The let down came way before dessert: friend's father knocked on the door with the deflating news that the friend had fever, and could not possibly receive guests. Poor Mini Me! So, as a consolation, I offered her visit to George. The said invitation was graciously accepted, and Golden Delicious spent a part of the afternoon in my humble abode visiting with George and exploring the fascinating world of my strange possessions.

On Sunday, plans to have an outing on "chu chu train with single stroller" somehow ended up cancelled, partly due to the inclement weather, and partly due to Mini Not Me being extra cranky. So, both sets of delicious checks and their owners were packed up into the double stroller and we departed on an exciting expedition to a wonderful place called Dunkin Donuts.

On the way there we spotted a lot of trees, cars, beautiful flowers in different patterns, and different birdies. Once there, I was obliged to buy them their favorite donuts: chocolate frosted with sprinkles (blech). Mini Me, for reasons known only to her, decided that on that particular day she wanted pink, not chocolate, frosted with sprinkles; the arrival of a large group of new costumers deflected her from that particular thought, thank G-d.

Anyway, after about fifteen minutes at DD, the combined influences of consumed sugar and some forced inactivity on the way there produced extra lively behavior on the part of the Gnomes. Of course, the one person in the entire store to give them repeated dirty looks had to be another religious Jewish woman. What gives?

After exiting the store, I offered an excursion of the exiting South Brooklyn; which offer was met with very enthusiastic approval. So, up the Flatbush Avenue we went. On the way we saw couple of very "interesting" stores (oh, to be young again); one store, however, was interesting to me: it advertised itself as psychic shop, but was definitely a voodoo store. The stuff you find in your neighborhood!

Finally, we came to a big shiny store (known to adults at Target). Munchkins immediately spotted the soda fountain, so I had to deflect their attention somehow, and offered them iced tea. "Are you guys OK with one cup and two straws?" "Yes, Papi; yes, Papi; we want two cups and two straws." So, two cups it was. Of course, while I was waiting for them, Mini Not Me succumbed to Morpheus. Mini Me, after having two sips from her cup and observing for a bit through the floor to ceiling glass the fauna of the neighborhood, graciously agreed to take a tour of the store.

The said tour began with a "toilet that was flushing by itself!” Then we progressed to ladies accessories, where Golden Delicious had a blast trying on hats and sunglasses, and checking out handbags and wallets.

After a considerable chunk of time spent of those exercises, we went to the next level. There, Mini Me selected two sets of dishes (for her and her little brother), after which she had a great time trying on all different kinds of kid furniture for size. She even wanted to check out a dresser, at which point I had to disappoint her by pointing out that I cannot possibly plunk it down from the top shelf. She took it in stride, and decided to borrow my camera instead. Later, while I was reviewing the shots she took, I realized that she actually put some artistic thought into it. She took pictures of: her sleeping brother, her empty place in the stroller occupied by her set of dishes, the chair she was eyeing with intent to buy it with her brother's set of dishes in it, and Papi (the most flattering part of her).

During these activities Mini Not Me woke up. So, the final part of the tour was conducted for the benefit of both of the Gnomes, with the end purchase of: a Princess Coloring book with paints, Elmo sticker book, a cute set for baking cupcakes, and I honestly do not recall what else. Mini Not Me was not being extremely discriminating and basically expressed a desire to acquire about half of the toy department. Mini Me, on the other hand, had her heart set on a beautiful doll house, completed with dolls and furniture. I had to solemnly swear that as soon as I get a better paying job, I am coming back and buying her that doll house. She promptly agreed to that, and then refused to budge anyway. So, the cupcake set was actually her graciously accepted consolation prize.

After returning home, she proudly showed Mama all the purchases, after which she made her royal decision to dedicate the new dishes to "burgers and hot dogs" meals as opposed to "cheese" meals. And after that she proceeded to make cupcakes for all the known to her members of the family, present of absent.

WEEKEND UPDATE

Finally, our fair, smelly, and overcrowded city was blessed with a gorgeous spring weekend! So, yours truly was finally able to fulfill the many requests of Golden Delicious, and take her out on an outing "on tshu tshu train in a single stroller".

Sunday being The Mother's Day, sibling and munchkins went to visit Yummy (Grandma) and give her "balun" and flowers (and straighten out her apartment a bit). So, Papi was dispatched to chateau de soeur to prepare for the big event. Apparently, Mini Me was really fired up about our proposed trip already, because she kept postulating about trains, Papis, and single strollers. Mini Not Me, being a perfect sponge, also expressed a burning desire of taking a trip on the chu chu. Mini Me, with all the authority of the older, therefor more informed, sibling told Mini Not Me in no uncertain terms that Papi is taking the single stroller, and there is simply no room for him.

In the end, when we were saying our good buys, Mini Not Me got upset, which made me upset also. In my defense I can only say that I am sure he was just parroting his big sister, and would have been loudly demanding "Mommy" about five minutes into the train ride. I actually came up with a plan for the next Sunday. I will take my neffie pooh first, walk to the subway, take a train, and ride to the next accessible station; at which point I can get off, board the train going in the opposite direction, and deliver him safely to Mommy. Hope it works!

Here are the highlights of our trip:

Mini Me succumbed to Morpheus on the way there, despite very serious assurances of her not being tired (our standard family trait).

We visited the new shopping mall at Columbus Circle, where a statue of a very tall and very fat naked man attracted her attention. "It is so funny, Papi!" As usual, she showed an impeccable taste and succinct way of expressing herself.

We took a walk along the Central Park South, where we encountered many, many horseys, some of them with pom poms on their heads; the source of strange stink was also explained as "horsey poopy".

Papi, being an eternal optimist, decided to check if we can go to the Central Park Zoo on Mother's Day (which also happened to be the first decent spring Sunday) without waiting too much on line. All I can say is: Thank G-d Mini Me did not figure out what was happening; and, needless to say, that activity was scratched off the list.

We obtained a cute balloon from a group of Russian musicians (whom I met last fall), who moonlight (or is it sunlight) as the kiddy entertainers in Central Park. I was not recognized, and got one of the best compliments ("I would never have pegged you as a Russian-speaking").

We also made a little round around the duck pond and saw duckys and turtles. Unfortunately, due to the fact that ALL the lawns around the pond had the "newly seeded" enclosures around them; and I did not feel like setting a bad example and breaking the rule ( like a lot of people appeared to be), the pond lost its appeal pretty quickly, and we had to move on.

Mini Me, for reasons known only to her, appointed yours truly her Official Balloon Carrier (aside from her Official Stroller Pusher). Unfortunately, on the way to our next destination, half of the balloon did not survive (for which I am blaming passing smokers).

Next stop was Dylan's Candy Shop (sorry, Candy Bar). This place is very dear to our hearts, because it witnessed her first independent steps! Anyway, I was not there for over a year; it looks like they have renovated in that time and became a three-(instead of two-) floor establishment. They have really great decor, which includs stairs made to look like globs of something see-thorough with all different kind of candy stuck in it. Unfortunately, great decor did not include the elevator. Go figure!

The main battle in Dylan's was to persuade Mini Me that not all sweets displayed were kosher; the lesser battle was to persuade her that she does not need a stuffed bunny for $20. My sweet girl eventually put the bunny back and allowed for kosher substitutions. We also got a big bag of Jelly Bellies for Mommy for Mommy's Day; I was pointing at the jars and explaining the flavors, and she was telling me if, in her august opinion, that particular flavor and color was worth it. She also got a smaller bag for her brother. After that we visited the cafe (very sunny and brightly decorated), where I was obliged to purchase her an over-priced Coke. At least half of that Coke miraculously came back to the chateau, where it elicited my sister’s suspicious glance and an even more suspicious question of “what precisely it this?” While in the cafe, Mini Me sampled everything we bought, making wise suggestions as to whatever or not her younger brother would be able to eat it, due to his as yet not full complement of teeth.

Next stop was the Disney Store, where I was obliged by my word of honor to purchase a "horsey" (otherwise known as Princess Carriage with Horses decorated in the revolting shade of pink). Why I was obliged to give my word of honor will remain a secret.

In between our stops, we walked for quite a while (or rather I was walking and pushing Mini Me in the stroller). During our travels we observed goodly amount of "goggies", babies, "baluns", fountains, and funny sculptures. We also saw a store with Kalla Dresses and another store with funny chandelier, and yet another store with very old furniture. OK, we were walking along Madison and Park avenues; but I love the way all those stuffy designer and other establishments were reduced to such simple descriptions.

Papi was also reminded, rather forcefully, that she is a bit out of shape (G-d willing, gym membership is coming as soon as certain aspects of personal life are resolved next month).
On the way back I decided to dispense with good manners (please forgive me, Mom and Dad), and simply barrel my way though the subway car towards the seat, in order to avoid having to apologize to Mini Me's parents again for cursing in front of their impressionable child. Once we arrived at our destination, three black women (without any signs of wheelchairs, canes, or strollers), pushed ahead of me into the elevator. I was not able to outmaneuver this unholy trinity because I felt bad for another woman with the stroller, who came the elevator ahead of me, and was also pushed aside. Just wondering - what would happen if three white women with no apparent need for the elevator pushed ahead of the black woman with a stroller?

I also needed to haul the stroller with Mini Me in it up the stairs twice. Both times I have encountered a decent amount of indecent jerks. I also encountered two young guys who went out of their way to help me. Both were younger than I, which leaves me hoping that chivalry is not dead. Both also wished me a Happy Mother's Day.

Upon our arrival back at the chateau, Mini Me shared a Big Secret with Mommy: her tooth was shaking. Our big girl!

She also had a candy party with her little brother, which resulted in a great deal of noise and a lovely tussle.

Over all, the aching bones and muscles were totally worth hearing that she also confidentially told Mommy that she went to "a museum with Mickey and candy, and she drunk Coke".

WEEKEND UPDATE

Here is my latest weekend update:

Friday night was spent in an almost pleasant company in my friend's house (the one where I usually end up "exchanging ideas"). Almost pleasant, because there was another space cadet from a very long line of space cadets present at the table.

The conversation was revolving around mutual friends and acquaintances (which gave me a peaceful munching time, since I could not care less about that), and then, out of the blue, the space cadet made a joke about a teleprompter, which had to be explained to the hostess. The rest, to use a cliché, is history.

I am not going to recall all the nonsense I was subjected to; I also decided not to "engage", since I am apparently just very entertaining, because I am "so passionate" about it. Basically, the idiotic conversation gave me another glimpse into the psychology of total obliviousness that plagues most of the American-born voters, even educated professionals capable of using their grey matter for tasks other than controlling the functions of the body below the neck.

Which brings me to a dismally rainy Sunday, on which I was hoping to take Mini Me to a long-overdue outing. Alas, that did not happen. I also had no motivation to get out of bed (sorry, sis). Basically, I arrived at Casa Del Munchkins in the afternoon. Inspiration struck on a whim, and I offered an outing to DD, which was met by an exuberant enthusiasm on the part of Her Royal Highness; His Royal Highness had to be coaxed a bit.

On the way there, we sang, observed busses and cars, and also commented on trees in strange colors (otherwise known as trees in bloom). Once inside DD, they were actually well-behaved angels about five minutes longer than originally anticipated (and despite being snubbed by another family with two kids). Each of them got their own serving of iced tea and two different kinds of donuts with sprinkles (from which basically only the frosting and sprinkles were eaten).

After a period of decent behavior, the joy of childhood (plus the consumed sugar) won over, and they proceed to show their extreme exuberance, which included laughing, running around, making faces into the windows, taking pictures of strangers - otherwise known as having plain, clean fun. After about ten minutes of this, they had to be evacuated and conveyed back to Casa Del Munchkins. On the way back, despite the rainy weather, they also managed to have fun, which included playing pick-a-boo through the plastic rain cover, kicking the same said cover, and tussling with each other. Oh, they joys of childhood!

Upon arrival, Mini Me organized a game of hide-and-seek. According to her rules, people hiding are told where to hide, which worked fine for Mini Not Me; in the case of Papi, they had to look for her long and hard, and she did not even have to use lots of imagination (just hide behind the same closet couple of times). Ah, the logic of toddlers!

After that, my sibling expressed a longing for a really creamy Mac-and-Cheese. After I volunteered to cook it, she confessed to locating a recipe and even boiling water (before succumbing to Morpheus). So, yours truly, with an enthusiastic assistance of Mini Me and under a watchful eye and periodic yells of neurotic brother-in-law, managed to concoct a very cheesy and somewhat creamy Mac-and-Cheese. Baby sister was in transports of delight, which in turn left yours truly delighted too.

After that is was bath time, when Her Royal Highness gave Her August Permission to be scrubbed by her humble servant at the accompaniment of our popular "scrubby" song.

Basically, another case of slight exhaustion with a warm fuzzy feeling inside; which, of course, brings us to Monday morning and closing the circle of stupidity that began Friday night.

The usual excitement associated with traveling on public transportation during a rainy Monday morning was compounded by strangely glaring looks of one of our recently promoted Senior Associates. On top of that, big boss decided to sort the mail during my unforgivable absence for a lunch break, which resulted in, among other things, longer process of sorting the invoices and his written instructions to yours truly on the fact that a particular piece of mail did not belong to our office (after he opened it).

Life!

SEVEN MINUTES OF BLISS

As mentioned recently, Fluffies need a bit of re-adjustment to the presence of Papi in their lives. Last night was still marked by that lengthy process, as a result of which they refused the performance of any part of nightly ritual by yours truly, piteously crying for Mommy of loudly demanding her presence. There was even an uttering to the tune of "don't want to show Papi burger we made ‘cause Papi is stupid".

At a certain point in the evening, Mommy went to for a long overdue night out with friends, and it was Papi and Abba against 2 American Gnomes. My brother-in-law belongs to the old school of Jewish parents so aptly described by the similarly old joke about Italian mother, Jewish mother, and a bowl of soup. For those unfamiliar with this gem, he was basically feeding them second dinner. After this ceremony was concluded, I politely inquired if His Royal Highness, Mini Not Me, would condescend to accompany his humble servant to The Sleeping Chamber. "No, Mommy!" - at which juncture he was scooped up by his father and removed to The Sleeping Chamber without Royal Permission.

Mini Me, due to her late nap, was left in my custody. So, I politely inquired if Her Royal Highness would like to listen to something read to her. She graciously agreed. Her brother, upon hearing my suggestion, all of the sudden also expressed the desire of my humble company and my reading. Alas, he was carried upstairs. So, it was just Golden Delicious and her Papi.

She chose her books. We had another riveting discussion about the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple and "the bad people" who effected that destruction. After the requisite number of books was read and discussed, I reminded her of her promise to go upstairs to her Sleeping Quarters. She duly kept her word. But on her way she kept up very intelligent discussion, even showing me a hole in the wall left by the "geniuses" who delivered her "Big Kid Bed". She also kept wishing good night and blowing kisses.

Those seven minutes spent in reading, discussing, and receiving "Big Kisses" was sheer heavenly pleasure. There are simply no other words to describe it. Exhaustion, frustration, hunger pains - all disappeared in a puff of smoke. The innocent and, believe it or not, unconditional love of a little child in return for your attention, however minimal, is truly more precious than rubies.