The Nutcracker

When I knew I wanted to be a mom and have kids, I had no idea that there would be these moments when I could watch life through their eyes.  When you get to see them be in awe and amazed by the wonderment that unfolds in front of them.

I think this is why I get disappointed many times when I have these great expectations of how something will go down and then in the end, it is a temper tantrum or meltdown that sours the whole experience.  Hopefully, I've been doing better about setting realistic expectations.

I've been patiently waiting for over 4 years to take Sam to see The Nutcracker.  This is one of those things that I knew (HOPED!) she would love.  I couldn't wait for her to watch this magical performance with all the beautiful costumes, wonderful dancing, great music and bright colors, not to mention seeing all the kids that get to dance and participate in the show.

Each year, I'd hear about my friends who take their girls and I'd get impatient trying to find a kid-friendly version of The Nutcracker to get tickets to.   Finally, I couldn't wait any longer and had to do it!  We had to go!

Sam, at the ripe old age of 4, has now experienced The Nutcracker.  I love that I could do this with her.  We went with our good friends, Kelly and her girls.  Everything about the day was perfect!  SAM WAS PERFECT!  We went to lunch beforehand and then headed over to the theatre for the performance.

It was so heartwarming for me watching Sam watch the stage.  Her eyes never moved once from the dancers.  She was mesmerized by the performance.  What a great afternoon.

The icing on the cake?  Sam telling me she had to go to the bathroom.  We made it in time (despite the bathroom not being anywhere close to where we were sitting) and once there, Sam pooped!

All smiles!  That's the way I like to see her. :)

Uh-oh! My bad!

Allow me to make a public apology to a budding Julia Child, my mom.  She has pointed out to me that she has had more hits than misses.  And, she feels strongly she does have her mom's natural ability to cook.

I am sorry that I thought to the contrary.

A direct quote from my mom, "I have made some pretty spectacular meals.  Don't you remember that one Thanksgiving that went over the top?"

Enough said.

P.S. For anyone that missed why mom's feelings were hurt.  You can read about it here:  Cooking with Sam

More tales from the Crypt

"OY!!" is all I can say most days. The Man (you know, the guy I work part-time for) is still going strong.  I have come to the conclusion (having really studied him over the past 10 months) some evident truths -- he thinks he is more important than he really is, has ADDHD (how else to explain getting distracted from working on something as important as reporting fraud to throwing me off on some tangent to track down a magic store in Illinois or tell him how he can find a girlfriend on an online dating site), and The Man really doesn't like anyone who doesn't speak clearly with an American accent.  G-d forbid they have the slightest accent, he'll hang right up on them and call back until someone speaking English answers the phone.

Some interesting things I've been working on.  The Man wants to be the very first car to ride on the new Express Lanes on the Beltway.  Who in the world dreams this stuff up? So, I tracked down the guy who is in charge of the Mega projects.  Turns out The Man can be the first car when the Express Lanes open.  It will be at 2:00am on Saturday morning.  This bit of info does not deter The Man from wanting to show up.  In fact, he then gets me on a hunt for the name and number of someone who can lend him a vintage automobile to do this drive in.  Somewhere along the way, VDOT did the ribbon cutting ceremony during a more reasonable time of the day, days before the lanes officially opened.  No one contacted The Man to be there for this event. 

Additionally, there have been numerous hours spent helping him draft  (2) 10 page letters to the State and administration at the hospital on his recent hospital stay (Don't worry, nothing serious.  And, nothing that impeded  him from getting the names of about 6 Hospital staff and write direct quotes from what they said).  One letter deals directly with how dirty his hospital room was.  The other letter was on the lack of patient care.  And while editing and adding to these letters, I've been getting on the horn to call "60 Minutes", "7 On Your Side", "Washington Post", "Washington Times" to see if they are interested in this story.  So far, no one has bitten.

And don't get me started on the "Kennedy Center Honors" and the letter he is working on for that.  Apparently he attended legitimately in 1983 and got to dance with Lauren Becall (who said he was an exceptional dancer).  He's gone back for many years after, but without a ticket.  He has crashed the Kennedy Center Honors dance many, many times and gotten away with it.  Now, the head event person has figured out who he is and what he looks like.  He's never allowed back in, even if he had a ticket.  He is trying to figure out a way around this.

I've told him that after I leave his place, my day is awfully mellow.  And, that's hard to do with being a mother to a four year old.  I can't beat the flexibility I have working for him.  It's nice that I only work when Sam is in preschool and am always available for the kids when they are home.  But, I do dream of working one day for someone who is a bit more grounded and doesn't have such grandiose ideas.

The unhealthy-not good-for-you-lacking major nutrition-lunch

(And, I am not talking about the cafeteria food either!)

Ian's school holds a Thanksgiving day lunch.  Parents, grandparents, siblings are encouraged to join their student for lunch and give thanks for all we have.  It is even more poignant when the school picks Veteran's day to hold the Thanksgiving day lunch and really gives the working parents a fighting chance on making it during the day.  Standard Thanksgiving day food is served (Turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, etc). Ian got a nice surprise on Monday when not one, but both of his parents were able to show up and have lunch with him.  This was actually the first time that Jeff has done lunch with Ian at school.

My two most favorite boys in the whole wide world.

During the 40 minutes I was there, it seemed to me that most every student had a parent or someone with them.  However, at Ian's table, I noticed the boy directly across from me (let's call him "Steve") was by himself.  I started a conversation with him and asked him about his weekend.  While chatting, I noticed that he was all done eating his lunch.  Steve had brought his lunch from home.  Given that it took him less time to eat it than the amount of time it took me to go through the lunch line to get my fruit salad and yogurt, I had to ask him what he had to eat.  Steve answered Pringles (one of those individual servings container) and a baggie with a baby pickles.  That's it. No sandwich, no fruit, no drink. Nothing else.

Instantly, my mind starts racing with a ton of questions -- "Did you pack your own lunch?"  Yes, with a smile on his face is Steve's answer.  "Does your mom know what you packed?"  No is his reply.  "Do you think your mom would be happy if she knew?" A shrug of the shoulders was his answer.

Ugh!  I am not sure which is worse -- that Steve was allowed to pack his own lunch and his mom didn't take the time to double check what he packed, or that Steve doesn't know enough that Pringles and pickles does not make a suitable lunch.  Even IF (and this is a big IF because it won't be happening any time soon!) Ian were to pack his own lunch, he knows what constitutes a healthy, appropriate lunch. 

My heart was breaking for this kid as I looked down and saw all the food I had in front of me to eat -- not to mention I was headed home afterwards and could always get something else if I was still hungry.  I quickly offered Steve some of my fruit and started a pile of apple slices for him.  He said, "No, I'm fine."  I  then offered him my unopened yogurt with a clean spoon and again, he said, "No, I'm fine."   Then I pushed my unopened chocolate milk his way and said, "Surely, you must be thirsty."  And that got returned as well.

At this point the woman sitting next to him, who was there for her daughter sitting on the other side of her, noticed what was going on.  She couldn't believe either what Steve had for lunch and started offering food from her tray.  Each time Steve said, "No, I'm fine."  the other mom and I looked at each other.  I told her 'the Mom in me' is having a very tough time letting this go.  She nodded her head in agreement.

So badly I wanted to send Steve's mom an email and tell her to get a clue and help her son pack his lunch.  But I restrained myself and waited until my bookclub meeting later that day to find out the best way to handle this.  All the women unanimously agreed that it was best to let this go.  Oh yeah, this is what Jeff initially said too, but he's a guy, not a mom.  :)   They felt that this kid packed his own lunch and he should suffer the consequences of being hungry.  They further explained that the mom could very well know what was going on and was letting Steve be held accountable.  Hmmmm.  Ok, so maybe I need to attack this from another direction.

At dinner the next night, I made it clear to Ian that if he ever sees a friend or a classmate hungry, he has my permission to offer them some of his lunch (barring any allergies the kid may have).  I always pack more than enough food for Ian to share.  And I asked Ian what Steve had for lunch that day. Ian said he bought his lunch.  Whew!  The next day and the day after I asked what Steve had for lunch, and Ian described the lunch he brought from home containing a sandwich and a yogurt, plus of course, the Pringles and pickles.  Still no drink, but its a start.

I think I will let this go.  But it still doesn't sit right with me what this kid was allowed to leave the house with so little in his lunch bag, let alone having all his food void of nutritional value.  You know me, I'll be keeping an eye on him, even if its just a daily report from Ian on what he had to eat that day.

UPDATE:

Ian went to a birthday party over the weekend, and Steve and his mother were also there. Upon meeting the mom, Jeff and Ian chatted with her.  The first thing out of Ian's mouth?  "My mom asks what Steve has for lunch every day."   OMG!  I am mortified.  Maybe the mom thought she heard wrong, because she didn't say anything to this statement.

I am officially done now worrying about Steve's lunch.  I am going to crawl under a rock and hide now.

Where will we put the Oscar?

I know now what Sam will be when she grows up.  An actress!  Just as we end one stage (withholding poop), we smoothly sail in to the next stage that I can't wait to get out of.  In the last 2 weeks, Sam has demonstrated performances worthy of Meryl Streep and Sally Fields. 

When we are in public and Sam is not getting her way, she has been known to scream and throw a fit in the hopes she will wear me down and hope I will do whatever it takes to get her to be quiet.  My plan of action since day 1, has been to pay no attention to the temper tantrum or screaming that ensues when I tell her "No" and give her a reason why.  Eventually she gets the screaming, stomping, and arm flailing out of her system when I fail to reward her horrific behavior.  I will not cave or let her get away with it.

Not to be outdone, Sam has stepped it up a notch and came up with a different tactic when she doesn't get her way.  She will wrap her arms around the front part of her stomach, bend over slightly and start gagging.  Meanwhile, she is yelling loudly, "I'M GOING TO BE SICK!  I AM GOING TO THROW-UP!!" 

It's real fun when we are in public and everyone around us thinks she really is going to be sick.  It's even more fun when they see my lack of reaction to this and get appalled that I am not taking my 4 year old seriously.  And, the fun gets really out of control when I keep walking to wherever we were going and she adds in her yelling, "YOUR GOING TOO FAST!! I CAN'T KEEP UP!!!  I'M GOING TO THROW-UP!!"  And then for added measure, Sam will make the coughing/gagging sound like something resembling bile is about to emerge from her mouth.

So in the last 2 weeks, I've been lucky (said very sarcastically) enough to be witness this on three separate occasions.  The best was when we were at the grocery store, running in for one quick item.  Sam wanted more cheezits and I told her no, that we no longer had anymore.  So, she dialed it up a notch and gave the performance of a lifetime.  Everyone around us quickly sprung into action and looked at me with panic in their eyes.  One woman offered to run get a bag from produce for her to throw-up in.  Another woman offered to go get paper towels.  I just looked at these women and said, "No need to do anything.  Just enjoy the show" and kept walking.  The horror in their faces and those of the other strangers around us told me that I was being judged and about to win the "Worst Mom in the world" award. 

The best reaction came from my friend who saw Sam give one of these performances after an issue she had with her dress, once gymnastics class was over.  She knows Sam quite well and just started laughing.  It was very funny and a very appropriate reaction. 

I have to give some props to Sam.  Her bending over ever-so-slightly and holding her tummy with both arms is genius on her part.  It really adds flavor and authenticity to her claims she is about to be sick and throw-up.

I wonder what I will wear to the Academy Awards? 

Cooking with Sam

My mom's mom was a very successful Jewish caterer in South Jersey. Back in the day, she did Bas Mitzvahs, weddings and events.  Her food melted in your mouth and 40 years later, people still talk about her cooking.  My grandmother didn't know how to cook for only 2, there was always a ton of food at the table when you came over for dinner.  Her favorite thing to read were cookbooks. I miss my grandmother greatly and fondly remember letting me help her roll out the rugelach.  Oh my, they were the best. 

I can safely say without hurting anyone's feelings that my mom did not inherit my grandmother's natural ability to cook.  In fact, I have a ton of examples to the contrary that even when following a recipe exactly, something doesn't work out.  And as for me, I'm just happy to get dinner on the table most nights.  I am not looking to change the world with my cooking and the less time I can spend in the kitchen, the better.

But, if there was a cooking gene and someone were to inherit it, it is Samantha.  At four years old, Sam is my right-hand in the kitchen.  She is very quick to put on an apron and pull up her step stool.  She wants to be a part of every dish I make.  She asks questions about what we're making, how long it will take to cook and what ingredients we need.  She is not afraid to stand at the stove and stir continuously or to work her dull knife and cut stuff up. 

This is Sam wearing her apron. 
She made it at mom-mom's house over the summer.

Sam rolling out the pizza dough.
 

When dinner is served, we all thank Sam for making our meal.  The smile on Sam's face extends from one ear to the other.  She loves getting complimented for a job well done.  One of her favorite things to make is scrambled eggs for Ian in the morning. 

Sam is an excellent student.  I can only imagine the kvelling my grandmom syl would do if she had Sam in her kitchen helping her.

Um, hi!

Lately, with increasing frequency, I've had people notice me and give me that look that they know me.  They'll wave or nod their head with a big smile from across the room, or even come up and start a conversation.  More times than not, I have absolutely no idea who these people are. 

It would be very embarrassing if I admitted I had no idea who they are, so I play it off.  I am the friendliest stranger you'll ever meet! 

A few weeks ago, I was standing next to a woman I do know in the office at gymnastics and another woman comes up to me and starts telling me about her mom and how she isn't doing well.  Her prognosis doesn't look good.  This woman looks at my friend and says, "It's ok I'm unloading like this, Robyn and I go way back."   WHAT?!?!  We do?  At this point, I wasn't sure if I should be hugging her in consolation over the news of her mother or offer to bring her family dinner.  Just how far back do we go?  No clue.   Hopefully I played it off appropriately.

While at a restaurant in Arlington, having dinner with my friend Ivy, we stood in line waiting for a table.  The place was unusually packed because of a fundraiser underway.  As more and more people were walking through the door, a ton of people looked right at me, smiled in recognition and said hi.  I just played it off, smiled right back at them and said "Hello."   I haven't lived in Arlington over 8 years and had no idea who any of these people were.  It was too funny and my friend and I got a good laugh about it. 

Voting for the election took place at Ian's elementary school.  You can just imagine how many people spotted me in line during those whole 15 minutes we were there.  I was constantly nodding and saying hi back to everyone who looked at me and said hello, with a visible sign of recognition on their face.  Fortunately I did know one of these women and could actually have a conversation interacting instead of racking my brain trying to figure out if I should be doing more than smiling, pretending like I knew them.

People seem to know me wherever I go.  I wish I knew them back.  My friend, Heather, has the most amazing memory for names and faces.  She will remember seeing someone from like 20 years ago as if she just met them 5 minutes before. I am continually impressed with this magical memory skill she has.  I seem to use my memory for less useful info; like what seat I was sitting in at the movie theatre watching almost every movie I've ever been to.  What good is that going to get me?

It's too bad that we don't live in a world, where I can be completely honest and say, "You seem like a really nice person.  Can you tell me how I know you?".   Or, what if we all just walked around with name tags on?  Wouldn't it make life so much easier?