Shavuos tov!

Look, Har Sinai covered in flowers!

Or, a sour cream cookie cake covered in sour cream-&-instant hot chocolate mix frosting, with a few sprinkles.

...harvest

And pursuant to our poplar trimming (pursuant may be the wrong word, but it's my blog, so it's perfectly cromulant), I took the longer cut branches, trimmed off the twigs and leaves, and stored them to use as sukka poles.

That's right. We grow our building supplies right here on the property.

Off to fix Alamanzo's supper now.

Pruning

We chopped off the top of our poplar trees today (well, half done).

The trees were stunning and beautiful and tall and lovely. But they thought they were done growing tall, and so all their energies went elsewhere- specifically, into making little shoots of themselves pop up everywhere in the yard (and threatening under the porch tiles as well).

This, apparently, is a common problem with poplars.

(Of course, I cannot now locate the source I had for trimming off the top in order to halt this problem... oh well. I'm sure I read it on the internet somewhere. And if you read it on the internet, it must be true.)

I could not avoid the comparison, as we worked, with the day I had with the girls.

No, we didn't give them haircuts.

For all their wonderful, well-behavedness, lately we've been having a real problem of Listening. As in, they aren't. I repeat myself over and over and over, and occasionally with Llama, even my growing-fury count of 1-2-3 will sometimes be met with a blank stare. Argh.

And so I am trying to analyze what needs to be changed, what needs to be worked on in my parenting, because this is so totally not cool - and frankly, it's sprouting all over the place.

In my offence, much of this may be because I'm telling them to hurry so much of the time, and as we all know, telling a child to hurry is a sure way to have them stand stock still. I realized that I've been saying the words "come on, it's really late" multiple times each morning AND each bedtime. That's a nasty weed that needs to be taken care of too.

I asked Sroch for ideas on how we could help with this problem (I asked Llama too, but she just wanted to cuddle). She said she thinks the problem in the mornings is that I am sleeping too late and I need to wake up before them and get ready and then wake them up, and that "Abba gets up early and we don't have a problem with him."

Ouch. I do believe I've been pruned back meself.

So we'll give it a try. Gulp. Parenting: not for people who like to sleep late. I'm getting it, I'm getting it.

Dinner on the mirpeset

Sroch's filling

She wanted it recorded for posterity.

Few months ago, we had a dental visit (yay Dr Rudy!) where she was found to have... a cavity. A CAVITY. Like children of bad mothers get.

Oh well.

It has had the wonderful effect of galvanizing her to brush better. Small mercy.

Friend's trampoline

Tochtery in motion.

Llama tells you a story

Good shabbos all!
(Sroch also made a video story, but as it's almost 200 MB (!) I don't have time to upload it now.)

Active vs cuddly afternoons

As I alluded to in my Savta Simcha post, some afternoons with the girlies are more quiet than others.

I have noted to many friends how my job as a mother is different than most of my peers. Well first of all, I have two delicious, gorgeous perfect children - most of my peers have a higher quantity (but certainly no higher quality, ahem). So that is probably what influences the second difference, that I work morning and afternoons. So my "parenting" is basically from 4 PM to 7 PM daily (or 9 PM, which was when I sent Sroch back to bed for the nth time tonight). The household dynamic when everyone is home for the craziest worst kvetchiest best time of day before bedtime, when the kids are tired from 8 hours of school and I'm tired from 8 hours of commute and work - well, it's very different, since that TiredTime(TM) is also the Time To Get Anything Done with the kids, be it projects, shopping, visiting with friends and so on.

It's very different.

And so some afternoons we're extroverted. Yesterday I didn't even get the girls home; on the way back from gan, I dropped one at one friend's house, one at another friend's house, and I came home and made food for sheva brachos we were co-hosting last night.

And some afternoons we're just content to cozy into our cave, the three of us (four, Abba schedule permitting). Reading on the couch, which often segues into cuddling, tickling, giggling, coloring, playing (with a 30% chance of weeping, wailing, "she grabbed it from me!"-ing). Talking about school. Today, watching old home video clips of them as babies. Eating...something (tonight: cheese on crackers, with apples on the side. Yoav and I had refried beans and salsa and cheese on crackers, but my children opted out of the jalapenos). Talking to grandparents on the computer.

And seamless, easy peaceful bedtimes. Yeah, well, eventually they go to sleep, after stories read and told, boo boos examined and comforted, noses cleaned (or not), faces washed (or not), hair brushed (or not), teeth brushed (95% of the time), sippy cups refilled, shema said once (or twice, as in "you confused me and I couldn't say it with you!"), and many, many last kisses. And last tucking-ins. This is REALLY the last time. REALLY! Okay, now THIS is the last time.

These cozy afternoons are, I think, very important for the kids' emotional health. They are basically the equivalent of a three hour hug, most of the time.

That's not too bad for my emotional health either.

Forgot to blog

I have been composing in my mind a massive blog post all about why it is I really feel compelled to stay up so incredibly late every night.

It will include literary elements such as a mother's need to have time alone, the lure of quiet, internet addiction, feeling "in" by relying on a social media of other people ignoring their responsibilities, and maybe even a little bit on passive-aggressive martyrship of motherhood.

But it's 1 AM and I haven't been to bed before 230 this whole week, so...

Goodnight!

Blogging, lashon hara and kiwi

The danger in having a blog is, of course, a tendency to say TOO much.
In the course of my several years of motherhood, I have had the opportunity to spend time with many, many other people's children, and my impressions are not always, um, positive.
(I also hold a grudge like whoa - for example, I remember what 4 year old callously broke the letter 'N' piece from our set of foam bathtub letters approximately five years ago... and it still bothers me that we have no N.)
So this evening, when Sroch was by a friend (after a day spent with Mommy at Mommy's office, she is miraculously recovered from her vomiting bouts last night), Llama had a couple friends over, both who have been here before. Well, this time...

They trashed the room.
In Llama's defense, she came and told me her friends were taking apart the ABC carpet. I told her as long as they put it back it was okay. I assumed they were taking apart a couple squares. But, no.

As you see, we cleaned it up. Only took 45 minutes! Oy. Impressive, since they made that mess in only about 15 minutes.
But really, three 3 year olds, they did nothing WRONG. Sroch at that age also loved to pull apart the letters. But there is a large temptation to judge these precious, adorable girlies as bad-mannered.
And then, there's a temptation to blog about how I can't BELIEVE children would EVER act like such ANIMALS and ohmigosh I mean REALLY, blah blah blah.
So I won't.
And I'll have these girls over to play again, many times, please God.
Instead, I'll just blog about kiwi. I just ate a kiwi without peeling it. It was a revelation. I may go have another.