The times they are a-changing too fast

...which reminds me, do not attempt, as I did recently, to watch that so-called Bob Dylan movie, I'm Not There. It is (first 10 minutes, while I could still stand it) an evil art-flick from hell if I ever saw one. 

There are five of them---kids, I mean--and they are all growing at the same time--wouldn't you know it!--and I can't keep up, and am glad I can't.

Ezra has finally, finally, finally started reading for pleasure. The first book to be visited with this honor was vol. 1 of The Littles, a sweet if rather fluffy series about tiny people with tails, which he read on December 1st. Yippee! My little Ez is officially a schoolboy (antics in abundance plus schooling=schoolboy, no?). And do you know what he did today? All by himself, he followed the recipe for Toll House cookies (with oil). After I explained the measuring cups and spoons--he picked up the concept of fractions in a fraction of a minute--I let him loose and he did not disappoint. The came out perfect, and we made plates for six of our neighbors and made deliveries during the twins'/Hannah's naps. Bad mama, but what can I do, sometimes? I was so proud of him.

Naomi, famous (around here) for her nonsensical little stories (e.g. Once upon a time there was a tomato. All his brothers and sisters got burned in a fire. The tomato went for a walk and he died [chortles]. The end!), came up with a joke-riddle. Actually, it was a joint effort, but the bulk of the credit goes to her. Do you like it? Q. What's the shortest story that never was? A. Once upon a time--the end! I like it. It really works for me. I can't explain it. And I love how she calls her stuffed animals "stuffed-up animals." They sound positively bursting at the seams (and some do) with excitingly springy insides.

A bit about Daddy's genius. The twins, I confidently (and rigidly) believed, had been suffering for several months from a series of aches, growing pains, colds, ear infections, ouchy teeth, separation anxiety, and suchlike difficulties, causing them to awaken several times a night thus bringing me (and D.) along with them. Since their fussiness came on so suddenly after so many months of good sleeping, I was more than willing to give them love and comfort and tissues and songs and bottles and fresh diapers and so on, though my sanity and health paid for it. David, however, had no faith in their constant suffering (varied though I claimed the causes to be), and convinced me to sleep-train them with the Rosemond method, which we had never used. It worked! On Nov. 29, we started this new game of patting them every five minutes without giving them much else to look forward to, and within a few days they went back to being good sleepers. Guess they weren't in any real pain after all. Guess growing up is just hard to do, and the nights long and dark. So much for maternal instincts. 

Hannah, looking at our two new kitchen pals (identical Chafetz Chaim posters from Morah Esther's "Treasure Chest"): Mom, some wabbis have haiw on dere chins!

Saul: Sings "Twinkle, twinkle, little star" - comes out "Tinkle-tinkle, how rrrrrrrrrrr!" And says, "Heh-woh" for hello. 

Yasha runs as fast as he can from the back of the changing table into my arms, not holding out his own arms for a hug till the very end. If I were not to catch him, he would fall without being ready to cling to me to brace his fall. But he likes the speed and the danger, and we play this game over and over again. Is it meaningul? Is it a test of my mother love, and of his ability to count on it? Something in him, and in me, just wants to play and play and play, till my arms are weak and I'm feeling dizzy. 

Hannah, Hannah, HANNAH! (in crescendo-ing tones of adoration), mostly

Upon seeing a photo of frolicking dolphin: Mama! I wanna be like that! And also: Mama, I wanna be like doze duks. I mean, no. I wanna be like that Muddergoose, there. 

We read (mostly) the same poems from the same big beautiful Mother Goose book every single day, by H's request, and she loves it. She always asks first for the "bird one," which is "Sing a song of sixpence, etc." and she sings it with me, and we clap our hands. Finally, a classic fairy-tale child of my very own, though I don't believe she's mine at all...  :-)

Cute and near-constant indecisiveness: No! I mean yes. Achlee no. Achlee yes.

Looking at a dress she wants to wear: Mama, is it cleeened? And: I can put my pah-zha's on myself..... first my ahms, now my feeets... no, don' zip me! I can zip myself!

Mornings, when I come downstairs to wake her: Mama, are you dressed? (yes.) Oh, mama--you're dressed! Did you make my oats? (yes.) Oh, thank you, mama. 

Sometimes I sic Saul on her (i.e. open door for him to come in and babble at her) and she tells me (as if I didn't orchestrate it): Mama! Saulie waked me up! He was tahkin' to me in my bed!

She pulls out a siddur almost daily, and sings very Hebraic-sounding nonsense syllables, with great kavanah, and Saulie has been joining her. They sit around the dining room table, singing and thumbing books, for nearly a half an hour at a stretch. Some of Hannah's davening goes like this: "A-koo-ma-tah, a-kooo-mee-ya-tah (repeat many times)." Yasha wanders around restlessly, tearing books away, throwing them to the floor, stopping for a second to "daven," too, losing interest, and attempting to bite the offenders with the good attention spans. Mama scurries about doing damage control and hugging the suddenly-needy Yasha (arousing brother's jealousy). The twins have hit a rough spot in the process of growing from blobby babies into real persons. But that is another story. 

Pacific N.W. Climbers Assn.

Looky, looky. Ezra and Noma, obviously with very great skill, clambered halfway up the rock at R.E.I. on Ez's 7th birthday. (Hannah enjoyed playing with the rentable climbing shoes down at ground level.)

Saul at home, practicing for his own glorious future.

Dr. Yasha... and Mr. HYDE!

Angelic...

...and crossing over to the Dark Side

Shameless, shameless favoritism

Brand new boys, circa Aug. 31

Before haircuts. During (Yasha's). And after. The little sheep.

Lately

I've been toooooooo busy, tooooooo busy to update. So how about a little list? Yasha now says, when you tuck him in (will not, can not, sleep without his pink blanket), "Buh-buh!" in a sing-songy voice, bidding you farewell. Saul can now climb up on chairs and  today climbed up from a chair onto the kitchen table, then fell off! I didn't see it, but connected the dots. I gestured wildly to explain the situation to Olmedi, and I think she said "Periculoso!" Danger!!! Irrational but very curious Saulchik ahead! Ez and Naomi started school the day after Labor Day, entering 1st grade and Kindergarten, respectively. Naomi is extremely endearing in her uniform, and when I pack her off, or welcome her home, my heart just melts. The Ez has lots of pent up aggressive energy and snarls and jerks his body away if you try to hug him, and only settles about 2 hours later, partially. Poor hardworking little students who have hardly any time to romp. Hannah being ruined, kicking Yasha, saying tantrumishly, "I don't LIKE him!" One thing likely, this one will be a good actress when she grows up.  And then, this evening, sudden change in Ezzie. Me: Ayee, can you take out the garbage? Ez (baby voice): Yah yah! Beduz me iz being a vewwy good boy now. Me is changing!  Yah yah!

Proof that they're really listening!

I am an overly talkative mother. Since I am talkative, I can certainly go on and on about this and my many other failings as a mother, but anyway this is a big one. Nevertheless, today, for the first time, I discovered that when I'm consistent about something, even though they keep testing, they actually notice if the testing fails to produce the desired result (doesn't keep 'em from trying)! The great proof:

Naomi, being horrible and whiny and spitting and pushing like a wild animal...

Mom: Naomi, go downstairs and stay in your room until you can come up and act like a normal person.

Naomi: If you make me do that, I'll be even worse!

Ezra: Nay-ohhhh-mi, that doesn't work! I always try that, and it never works! (notices my mouth-dropped-open stare, smiles sheepishly, but it was too late. I gotcha, little guy! Shouldn't have given away your hand.... :-) 

Pity the poor child, and bless him

I'm reluctant to post much about this, lashon hara being forbidden by the Torah and common decency, but I've been having a truly hard time with Ezra, with the furious brow-furrowing, evil eye-narrowing, sassiness, disgusted horse-like spitting, I SAID, blah blah. I need x NOW! don't TALK to me! WhatEVER! It's all YOUR fault! You're a mean-iac mom! the uncontrolled hitting and shoving of sisters, crazy laughter, the pull-out-all-the-stops defiance. When I ask him about all this in a calm moment, he tells me, earnestly, that he doesn't know why he gets that way, implying that this isn't really him, and he doesn't actually want to be angry. Oh, and the extreme version of this behavior is reserved exclusively for me... go ahead, think what you will.

It was a beautiful summer night last night, and I walked through the woods to the QFC and ended up randomly opening an admittedly silly book (the snob in me recoils at thought of admitting it) A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle, LOL and sacrilege to the great Master. He talks about the "pain-body," and how kids inherit their parents' troubles, known and unknown, unconsciously,  and take on our pain-bodies: Our bodies absorb all our own negative emotions (which is basically what the pain-body seems to be) and it all seeps into the kids, and translates into kids having moods, tantrums, etc. He says, parents wonder where these sudden negative emotions come from in their kids, and I have wondered that, and can testify that it's not always simply a result of thwarted ego. You must of course invent your own lingo or you are not a guru. That aside, I'm glad Hashem caused me to open to that part. It reassured me... that and the concept of greatness and badness being just flip sides of the same coin. Ezra seems to have a strong drive for life, a strength and tenacity, but when he's bad, he's really quite horrid, which, I suppose, is good (though we will work hard on it, and pray).

The poor child has had a hard week, starting this past Friday with an accidental ingestion of another hazelnut-containing Israeli chocolate bar!!!! It was the fault of the young and innocent camp counselors (at Camp Shevet Achim, now) who knew about nuts but not chocolate. He got Benadryl, I met him at the pediatrician's, we zapped him with the Epipen, they watched him for 2 grueling hours, and we went home to an especially crazy Erev Shabbos. No anaphylactic reaction--hooray! But more adventures followed, as he woke up looking greyish-yellow on Monday, with his chest heaving up and down visibly, complaining of having trouble breathing! We called the doc, who told us to call 911, the paramedics came with sirens blaring and hooked him up to some oxygen (the kid was giddy with excitement and glee, of course), and placed upon his breast a Mercer Island Fire Dept. Junior Firefighter sticker. We've spent all week treating what appears to be his first (I pray, last?) case of asthma. He got a cold over Shabbos and apparently sometimes kids who are prone to asthma will get it when they get colds. I've been scared, disorganized, and frantic all week, dealing with his doctor's visits and the rest of the kids' colds, Naomi's extremely dramatic middle-of-the-night accident (think, deep circles of hell), and my own insomnia and now illness. Waaaaaaaaaah! There! No more complaints. 

Up and down boys

Saul can go up and down the stairs, and it's so cute, it's like he's a toy robot with two settings: up and down! And he loves to go down, stop midway on the stairs, go back up, peek out at me, and then race back down (perhaps a robot on "random"). He is so fast and unpredictable in his explorations that I am constantly losing him, and the house now seems to be a castle with an infinite number of rooms, and no time to close all their doors before a Saulchik slips inside. Yasha, good man, can go up, but with Saul being so mobile, Yash often ends up missing out on all the action if it's below him, and whimpers till mama carries him down. He's too scared still to let me teach him to do it himself. He has turned into such a sweet character, hugging legs not only when he's sad or lonely, but just from a full heart. And we call him Yasha leg-hugger, not that it's an interesting nickname, but it's notable that he does it often enough that it's his main characteristic at the moment! He smiles and laughs with his big eyes and high forehead and anti-gravity hair.... and clings! 

Saulie is quite a crazy dancer--he bounces up and down and left and right and hams it up--and a musician, too (don't laugh); he has become an expert harmonica player. I never know if it is Saulie playing or Ezra, because Saul is good and tenacious, too. He reminds me of Ez, not just because he looks most like Ez, but because his curiosity is written on his face and body at all times, as it was with Ezra at this age. 

It's sort of okay being blue-house-bound, really. I have to remember how much I'll miss it, and how sadly vaguely (um, double adverb??) it will all be imprinted on my memory. I wish I could take a magic memory pill to bring all my good memories to the fore, and make them bright and flashy and vivid... but there's magic enough in this life and the next, so I won't worry. 

Anudder fly-bee

A real fly-bee (ick!)

Dis iz a fly-beeeee. It izzzzzz. Daddy found one. He found it.

Ghosts, Mr. Fix-it, and Praises of the Almighty. Also a princess.

Ezra: Mom, why have we never been in our attic? 

Me: Because.... um.... (should I mention that I'm afraid of bugs, rats, you name it? No, of course not.)

Ezra: Maybe... we could go up there and make it haunted. We could go to a place where people are buried and get some ghosts. (A lot more was said, some of it too abstruse for me, about how we could use Matthew's (school friend) machine--it can do anything, according to Ezra-- to make a hole for the ghosts to go in and out of, so they could come down and help us fight bad guys, and I'm sure I didn't catch every detail.)

I think I read in one of those very age-specific parenting books I used to obsessively read, before I figured out that they frustrate much more than assist, that there is some age (was it seven?) at which it is natural and normal for a child to be morbid, to draw creepy depressing pictures that, to any psychologist unaware that an "x"-year old did them, would lead to an instant and dire diagnosis. 'Cause, the other day, out of the blue, the kid asked: Mom, is (sic) there more dead people than alive?

Ghosts aside, Ezra has proved himself quite useful in the world of the living. He fixed Farmor's (Harriet, David's mom) cell phone, earning himself $5. (We had a lovely visit with her this past weekend.) He hammered (routinely does this) the nails that poke out of our deck and made it safe for the little ones.  And he unjammed a disc from the DVD player. How did he do this? Maybe dumb luck.

And then there's happy, pious Hannah: (singing, Ashrei-yoshrei) Mom, dan you help me with Ashrei? (siddurs spread all over the floor, but mom not a stickler in her case and allows the desecration) Mom, I'm up to Ashrei. I'm up to "six." (Whatever that means, it sounds very official.) Right after this, hearing Yasha cry: Mom, we have too det dat dying (i.e. crying) Yasha!

More recent Hannah-speak: Mom, dan you draw me a flah-wah? Mommy, dan I have Dashabanana (oats with bananas, "kasha" a generic term for porridge in Russian)? When she doesn't know a Russian word I use, she says "What is?" and when Dad doesn't understand something she says, she says, "It's Russian!" even if it's not.

Dad contributes this morning's dialogue...

Dad: Are you a type of a fly-bee?

Hannah: No.

Dad: What are you?

Hannah: A Hannah!

Dad: What's a Hannah?

Hannah (conspiratorial belly-laugh): Russian!

And on Sunday, tramping upstairs with a soggy balloon, obviously very pleased: Naomi gave me a balloon. I shleeped with my ba-loooon. I sleeped with it. 

This is a habitual speech pattern for her: I did such-and-such. I did. Or, I have such-and-such. I do. It's extremely pointless and charming and delicious and sure to be outgrown soon. :(

So long for now.... oh, and I don't want to embarrass Yasha, but I have to mention that he spent the entire afternoon in a romantic white ruffly blouse and a sort of thin denim farmer-girl jumper, which, bizarrely, actually brought out his masculine beauty. Naomi (costume designer) caught me unawares; she managed to really startle me with the vision of this Yasha. No photo, for goodness' sakes! He's a boy! 

Poignant sibling stuff

On Shabbos, Naomi at kitchen table, looking at pictures in a book, suddenly--

Naomi: Ezzie, do you love me or hate me?

Ezra (pauses, then face lights up as he sorts out his feelings): BOTH!

Me (sad, disappointed, mad at Ezra, but hiding it): Naomi, why do you ask?

Naomi: 'Cause he always be's (sic) mean to me, even though I love him.

Naomi, after camp one day last week

Something from everyone

Like the song says, the kids are all right.

Ezra (passing video store in car): Can we borrow movies from that store? (Yeah, but you have to pay.) Oh yeah... even though it's not a library, you can still borrow from it! 

Ezra (pushing deedees' highchairs closer together): They look cuter when they're together.

Naomi to construction worker waiting for the men's room at Albertson's: Our son is in there.

And here is Hannah's very own sing-songy brocha, transcribed verbatim, since she does the same thing almost every time: Modeh ani lifanech! Melech haolam! Asher twenny-shanu bimitzvah--tzitzit! 

Hannah, still singing: Cleanup, share-ing, cleanup, share-ing, everybody clean up! Cleanup! And, copying Uncle Moishe: No, no, no! I will not let you doe! 

After one of her whiny little rebellions--"No, I won't, I don't wah-noo! (they corrupted her!! I knew it would happen)-- she sometimes runs to the time-out corner, where she's seen other kids doing time, but doesn't get sent herself, and mommy's heart melts as I pull her out of there.

Hannah's little bedtime protest sentences: I dun wanna go to bed. I'm really a-wake! (or I'm just awake, or my favorite, I'm just dunna be a-wake... )

Saul--Saul is so funny: Yeah? Yeah!  (constantly asking this question, then answering himself). He can also say a proper "yes," though it sounds like "yesh."  And he seems to be calling his brother Yashie! He very dramatically says, Uh-ahhhhh (uh-oh tune). When he approaches something dangerous, we say "No, no!" and he says "Nah-nah!" Now, when he approaches the stairs the whirring fan, etc., he looks over at us, says "Nah-nah" and patters away. They both make the lip-smacking kissy noise! And thank you's, i.e. "dee-dow"s are back, and Yasha thanks too. Saul, when extremely impatient, bellows: Mah-mee, Da-dee.

Saul, Hannah and Yash play funny baby games. They run sooooooo fast, and flop on the big pull-ow, yelling aaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAA! wildly as they approach.... and then the flop (anticlimactic, timid little flop! sometimes missing the pillow itself). 

The same silly Saul, spinning, spinning, happy, happy, suddenly looks confused - doesn't understand that strange dizzy feeling, and... crash! 

As for me, I discovered I can still ride my unicycle!!!! I absolutely had to prove it to Julie, who stayed over for Shabbos...

Summertime, and the livin' is eeeasy

Saulchik's fancy car, which makes him right proud.  

Summer mathematicians. It must be summer because Naomi won't take off her bathing suit till bedtime (the better to hop in and out of our brand new and already filthy plastic Nemo pool, courtesy of Kristy, or "Dursty," if you ask Hannah. Thank G-d she had the good sense to buy it.)

Twins, reading the fine print. 

Ezra, sweetest imaginable version, enjoying his well-earned computer time. (His jobs: 1. Daven, 2. Read out loud for at least 15 minutes, 3. Do not harm sisters.) 

Yasha loves to make that lip-rolling, spitting noise you can just hear him making here. Today, in the first real instance (that I've been privileged to witness, anyway) of obviously intentional twin-communication, Yasha leaned over and did it to Saul, and Saul leaned back and did it to Yash, and they touched foreheads, then got back to the finger food on their high chairs. 

Larrabee State Park

This is where we went on our anniversary drive, and yes, it was long and lovely. We waded out a little, sat on rocks dangling our legs in the water, and it wasn't even cold. I forgot how much I love the feeling of water on my feet. I love sand. I love dreamy views. I love the sound of trains going by. I love getting away with my husband from the children for a little while (even though I couldn't stop thinking about how much Ezra would love the trains).

I found some lovely photos of the place online... (Did I remember my camera, the one that finally got repaired at the factory and lovingly welcomed home? What do YOU think?) I would love to go back and explore the area some more... and do you know what else? I saw a rabbit! I love seeing rabbits... how funny it is that it is almost always a solitary experience. There is no way some rabbit is going to stick around a trail long enough for the person behind you to see him. :-) 

Clayton Beach 

The view we saw, more or less (San Juans?)

A train just off Chuckanut Drive, which leads to the beach

There was a fly-bee

Hannah has this adorable habit of reminiscing about the past, telling and retelling stories from her exciting and eventful life. And so, the time has come to talk of the fly-bee. One afternoon, about a month ago, I suddenly heard loud, terrified sobs emanating from Hannah's (and Nomi's) room when she ought to have been napping peacefully (she is very good at this). I burst into the room to find her red-faced and shaking, and couldn't help but notice an extremely large and loud fly buzzing circles around the room. I shooed him away, she relaxed immediately, and after tight hugs and a dried face, fell back to sleep. Since then, every few days or so, her eyes will glaze over, and she will start telling the story of that strange day, sounding rather like an older woman (actually, reminding me of Karen Blixen in Out of Africa) reminiscing about her long-lost youth. We try not to laugh when she tells the story, always the same way. Here's how it goes (if you could only hear her...): 

I 'as in my bed.

There was a fly-bee.

He waked me up.

I was sad.

And every so often she will go back even farther in memory, to this past Erev Pesach (when we had no time to spare, but had to spare it) when she sat down on a ride-on car on our steep driveway and was whisked downhill, rapidly accelerating, and fell backwards onto her head:

I 'as on my truck.

I fell on my head.

I was sad.

That time, we had to call the paramedics, so dazed and confused did she seem after her fall. And, in Klinghoffer family tradition--she got a bear: her Misha.

Vacation, so far

The kids have been sweet and, when naughty, have managed to provide comic relief. Saul quit thanking me, but has started saying "Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!" in a sing-songy voice reminiscent of teenage girls greeting each other (wait, do I still do that?). Yasha walks, really walks, and falls so clumsily you just want to sweep him into your arms every time. But he doesn't cry too much. Ezra and Naomi and I visited the fahncy bike store, purchased flashy new helmets (for them), removed training wheels, and readied their bikes for summer riding. Ezra amazed me by teaching himself to ride after a couple of days' practice on our tiny deck (without help from parents). He especially amazed himself. I'm glad he's a fairly brave kid, a squawking chicken about minor pains, but not afraid of physical challenges. We're eager to take him and Naomi out to the park, but a sudden heat wave descended upon us, and we're waiting it out. Now that Ezra is self-sufficient, I can focus on teaching Naomi (and channeling my dad, who taught me). I was wondering how it was all going to work out...

Did I mention that we got Hannah a small trike, which she calls (you guessed it) a "dike"? Ezra, practicing, not-so-politely said, "Hah-nnie, get out of my way!" and she brilliantly retorted: "It's my way!" 

Ezra discovered Beethoven. He really has been davening every day (to my great shock) and using his special Ashrei tape. The adjacent tape deck contained Beethoven's (glorious) Violin Concerto, which he secretely turned on, and I entered to the room to find Ezra leaping and prancing, and goading the girls on to do the same... not always in time to the music, but with obvious relish. This after many years of plugging his ears and wailing, "Noooooo, noooooooo classical music! I hate (Ezzie, we don't say 'hate'!) classical music! Turn it off! I can't stand it!" Never give up on your children.

Naomi has always seemed to appreciate classical music, asks for it in the car--a bold act of rebellion against Ezra (used to be), or, I'd like to think, independence. I think she tolerates the other things (silly "indie" music that mom sometimes needs, and "Oldies" - Ezra's generic term for all rock music) with some discomfort, though she likes children's music. Anyhow, we were listening to Mozart on the kitchen radio, and she asked me to notice how fast she was coloring. "When I listen to beautiful music, it makes me color really, really fast." And she was making her interesting patterns and designs with squares and triangles. Maybe she really is one of those people whose mind translates sounds into colors and shapes. 

Hannah, wailing just outside the twins' door (a big no-no!) and getting scolded by Mommy: "Mommy, I'm sorry!" Then, with wide, pleading eyes: "Dan I be happy?" She does this often, takes the rebuke, and asks... well, she put it so vividly--it's deeper and richer than a rational, adult analysis, which I will promptly cut short. And every time she says it she gets kissed to pieces. 

"Big" Danny (favorite teenaged babysitter) wandered around downtown Mercer Island with the two ruffians on Friday and got them some water guns. All Shabbos, Hannah chased me and said, "Mom, you have to dose your eyes. I'm doe-ing to shoot yuuu!" With her "water-dun."

P.S. Friday was our 8-year anniversary! We celebrated by not grumbling at each other all Shabbos long! And today we're going on a "journey" (i.e. we have no idea yet where we're going, but it's going to be fun) without kids and without thinking about how much it's costing in gas. In D's opinion (and mine, I guess), if it isn't a long drive, it doesn't really feel like an adventure.

The Shabbos Shuffle... starring YASHA!!!

Yasha can walk, too!!!!! We caught him. Daddy pointed and said, "Look, Yasha's walking," and it was true. He was quietly shuffling along the kitchen floor, pants too long, but that didn't stop him this time. He did it once more later in the day (i.e. took more steps than I could easily count, then flopped). The kids always, always, always--really, always--do new things on Shabbos. Hooray! No photo yet, of course... I just hope Yasha will repeat his performance soon. 

Funny kid-sayings:

Ez (Friday afternoon): Mom, I sent Kiki an American page. Mom, ask her if she got my American page! (Numeric page, you silly boy.)

Naomi (just now, coming upstairs hours after tucking-in time, to find grownups eating sandwich cookies, package tantalizingly open, Nome scooped onto Daddy's lap): Why did you just put that in front of me to make me want it!

And how, how could I forget about Saul? Saul says Mama, and babbles strange strings of syllables not mirrored in any human language, incredibly cute and charming and hilarious syllables..... but that is not all! As of yesterday (Shabbat again) he says, "Dee doe" or "Dee day" when you give him something. He is very purposeful about it. I couldn't believe it, thought he was much too young for this kind of thing, so we made him to say "Thank you," and he said "Dee dow" on demand over and over again, with a little grin. He means it. Saulchik!!! 

Daddy, measure me

School's out! So we can ruin our eyes at the computer. Ez, looking at iPhoto slideshow of all of us a few years ago: Mom, can we make Naomi's hair be curly again? She was so cute! Oh, my gosh, Naomi, you were so cute! (Me: Ezzie, you were cute, too.) But not as cute as Naomi was at that age! (I appreciated the complexity of this point, not to mention the humility he's apparently capable of.) I was cute when I was really little.

Ezra has been doing his rather lengthy kindergarten davening curriculum for two days (as of today--well, I'm impressed anyhow!) which means the house is filled with his sweet singing voice--and it is sweet, must have gotten some genes we're unaware of. We brazenly called Morah Esther, put her on speakerphone, and had her do Ashrei with Ezzie, as well as promise to make a tape of same... what fun. Ez, at one point, describing class, almost wistfully: When we do Mah Tovu it seems like we've got music playing, 'cause we have a really good tune, and when the whole class does it, we sound really mellow. (Not the adjective I was expecting... but funny... and touching.) 

Hagigat Siddur party

My little baby Ezra is getting big. Last week, my little baby kinder-gartner starred in his first school play, as the very special letter "Yud." Now, if you are thinking kabbalistically, as you should be, you know that this is indeed a very, very important letter. Anyhow, their dear teacher knows just how to do things, with her perfect little program, her clever play, and the elaborate siddur-receiving ceremony. That last upload is an exceptionally beautiful (I think) Naomi-design, overlaid upon Ezra's "lines," which he delivered in an adorable, casual-yet-awkward sort of way. All the children were wearing paper crowns and paper vests each with its own beautiful golden letter. I laughed and cried quite ridiculously, but despite being as doting a mom as any, forgot my camera. One of the superior mommies snapped photos of Ezra (letter "Yud") and Natalie (letter "Hay") as they did their bit (must remind her to send them), and of all the children belting out their lovely songs--and they did Oifn Pripitchik !! After it was all over, they partook of a chocolate-cherry Albertson's cake, upon which Morah Esther had written each of their Hebrew names in icing. And, in a variation on a Talmudic theme, each child ate his own enornmous slab of name-cake.

Happy Father's Day!

Enlarge card to see all significant and telling details.

GQ Baby

This is the sort of thing Naomi likes to do to the babies in her spare time... and on especially long, boring days, their fairy god-sister transforms them into princesses. I might just have to prove it one day...

Recent kid-speak

I always try not to laugh, so their little thoughts will keep coming out uncensored. But it can be hard.

Ezra (lying on his back): I have a fever... but for a minute I thought I felt the germ being ate-en. It was a little tickly, right here (points to stomach). 

Upon our being asked at the drive-through coffee hut, "Are you enjoying the sunshine?": It's boy-a-ling my eyeballs out!

Passing a gym: Can I do workouts, just not the weights (this last bit after mom told him no weights for growing boys)? 'Cause I really wanna do workouts. 'Cause I wanna get strong...'cause I like challenges. 

Listening to radio: Mom, commercials are actually good, 'cause some of them will save lives. (Mom asks how.) 'Cause some of them are about health! So we actually shouldn't skip them.... And some.... help you with money... like, if you're poor.

Naomi's turn: Mom, when I shake myself, my self doesn't make a water sound. See? (jumps up and down) 

Me: Why would it?

Naomi: Because it has blood! 

After being complimented on her drawing: Mommy... am I a kid aw-tist?

Hannah (babbling and being ignored by computer-mommy, shows her fine communication skills): Mommy, dan you dalk doo me? 

Progress report

All of a sudden, Ezra can read! He up and read a huge 100-plus-page Dick and Jane book. Banina had given it to him quite a long time ago, and it sat and sat on the green junk shelf. Thankfully I had no idea (till I just googled it) that those books are frowned upon as old-school and horrible in every way. Ridiculous! It jump-started his reading, and now he is challenging himself - no other way to look at it; the kid is obviously working his brain to bits - to read more and more. And would you know, this summer Half-Price Books is paying kids $3 a week to read 15 minutes a day for five days, and there are at least 8 weeks to the program. There is a chart, and 6-year-olds love charts, where he logs his reading time. Yippeee!  

Saulchik: Saulchik is really, truly walking, with sturdy out-turned legs and extreme glee! 

Yasha: When he finds himself out of footy pj's, he makes a valiant effort to stumble a few feet, but continues to be more interested in banging and biting and climbing inside pitch-black closets and making the doors rumble on their hinges, and then come off (Saul likes this game too, but Yasha initiated it). He always looks like he has something up his sleeve. He is exploring the world with deep, quiet, intense concentration, not playing to any crowd or even to any doting mama - this is new for a Klinghoffer. He's doing his investigations, and he will take his time and not make any hasty pronouncements. (Please don't ask me how I know all this...) And meanwhile, he always has time for a kiss, and tilts his silky soft cheek up for one.

 

And little Hannah. Thanks to mama's encouragement, she loves to read the hypnotic, sleep-inducing Little Quiet Book (mentioned earlier) - a.k.a. The Little Diet Book. I love her variations on the text.

"Diet is the cyber on his web!" for "Quiet is a spider," and many delectable others (though I dread the day the book falls apart, because the new edition commits sacrilege, leaving half of it out just to make it more chewable...the nerve.)

I need to photograph all the yum yums as they deserve, but my digital camera was mummified in bubble wrap, boxed up and sent back to the factory to get its no-good blurry lens repaired, and will be sailing home soon so I can take some crisp photos. I am all itchy to get it back. The photos here were taken by my no-good Point-and-Shoot, called out of retirement... but its defects don't infuriate me because it never promised to be a good camera.

Horrible hazelnuts

I used to love Nutella. I have vivid memories of scraping and then licking Nutella jars completely clean in college (etiquette be damned). It was the challah dip of choice at our Shabbos table when D. and I were newlyweds and then (almost immediately!) new parents, living in our Groveland beach hut of blessed memory. The love affair abruptly ended when half of 14-mo. old Ezra's delicious baby face erupted in hives when he had a taste of it, and we had to break our Shabbos idyll with phone calls and paramedics cars and emergency rooms, crowned with an interminable stay in the dreary Bellevue Crowne Plaza hotel (me pregnant to bursting with Naomi). We were forced to switch to butter and/or hummus after that - very poor substitutes indeed! Nutella is just too good for this world... we were undoubtedly eating it at the expense of our chelek in olam haba. 

Anyway, this past Sunday, Ez was at a playdate, and the two six-year-olds - naturally - raided the pantry. They gobbled up an Israeli chocolate bar, which (as they often do) contained hazelnuts. For a moment he felt like he was choking, told his friend's mom, we spoke over the phone, she gave him Benadryl, watched him for a little while, everything seemed fine, so she took the boys out to play. When I came to pick him up a couple of hours later however, at the Crossroads playground, his friend ran to my car and told me Ezra had just thrown up. I ran to him and found him covered in hives, his back, stomach, legs, face, arms, everything, and scratching himself wildly--it was like an aftershock that's worse than the original earthquake. We threw him in the car and raced to Overlake Hospital, saw a paramedics car on the way, almost caused an accident honking and speeding to catch up with it, but eventually flagged it down and got one of the guys to hop out and zap Ezra with an Epipen on the sidewalk, while his car sped away and a replacement sped up (this part was like an adrenaline-charged movie... only real). His hives slowly started to subside, and he stopped itching almost immediately. We proceeded caravan-style to the emergency room. Banina and a brave Ezra waited a few hours while the doctors watched him, and I took the carload of babies and Naomis home to eat dinner. A few hours later, I picked the two of them up. All was well--but it was TERRIFYING. I guess I have to take his allergy seriously now, and not try to beat it by pretending it's mild. It's not. My kid has one of those crazy nut allergies you read about in the N.Y. Times Magazine, or some such publication that likes to take itself very, very seriously. What a strange and crazy world.

The good part is, all was well just in time. On Tuesday morning, Daddy and Ezra caught a plane to L.A. (for Ezra it was a total surprise), so D. could give an important speech, and........ take Ezra to Disneyland! They spent all of yesterday there, and I can't wait to hear all about it. 

The world according to Hannah

Hannah is such a glorious toddler that today she deserves her own purely factual little post. This allows me to catalog (for her future amusement) how various sayings of hers actually sound, in her dialect, which involves the simple substitution of d's for "k" sounds, and for other hard sounds like "g". The big kids have also started speaking to her in her dialect, so for example they will say, "Hannah, dan you dum here?" without even thinking about it. You can do it, too. It's fun! 

(Hearing me clear my throat): Do you have a doff? Do you wan some dee? And: Dan you det me some apple joos? I have a dup! Daddy, you need a deepa! I.e. (Ezra), wan' your deepa? Mommy, don' darry me! Mommy, dan you fly me over da date (referring to our baby gate)? (Seeing me with clippers) Mommy, don' dut my lilla nails! (Being asked how she was): Dood! (Being asked what she was): I'm a diddy dat! (Padding into our bedroom on Shabbos morning, pretending to be pushy): Daddy--lay (sic) down! Daddy--doe to sleep! (Re. what's missing from our Shabbos table): Daddy, you needa diddush dup!

Her favorite book: The Little Diet Book (quiet, that is)!

The big kids try hard to corrupt her, teaching her to say things like "go away" and "stupid" and potty talk, and she will have none of it. When she hears, or is merely afraid she might hear, some rude language, she protests: Nomi, dun say 'Doe away!'" 

And while playing in the bath the other day she firmly declared, brow furrowed with determination, "Mommy, I won' say 'stupid'!"

She is naturally loving... I won't forget how, Purim a.m., when I was (of course) duty-bound to be happy, but for reasons of exhaustion having something to do with Shaloch Manos assembly and costume-related scuttling, burst into quiet tears, she sang, with mournful compassion, "Ooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, Maaaaaaaaaaaahmeeeeeee. I need a hug for you!" And hugged, with tiny and extremely comforting arms. 

When she passes a mezuzah (in my arms) she kisses it and says, "Mwah! I diss the mezuzah!" and when she dries her hands after negelvaser (or on any other occasion, "religious" or not), she says only one word of the bracha, having somehow hit upon the most important one of all: A-d-n-ai, A-d-n-ai, she repeats over and over again, with sparkling eyes and plenty of enthusiasm.



She and Saul went on a long road trip in my van, never leaving the driveway, but they felt themselves adventurers. They took turns at the wheel. Saul woke up the retirees of the neighborhood when he leaned his heavy body against the horn, and scared himself silly besides (red-faced, teary-eyed Saulchik not shown here to protect fragile ego).

Happy belated Mother's Day (to me!)

They didn't try too hard, but I value this card for David's brilliantly succint summary of the deedees (you have to click on picture below to read it). Don't judge how much or little this mom is loved by the obvious slap-dashishness of the effort, okay? Promise?

You've come a long way, babies

Above, the firstest ever photo, taken by Daddy with camera phone. And below... playing with the Barbie karoake Thing. 

The twins' first birthday passed, discreetly nestled in with Shabbos and a friend's son's Bar Mitzvah. We left our dear boys to attend said Bar Mitzvah, and in our absence they were duly fed their birthday cupcakes, but no one really noticed (except the lucky babysitter). At the pediatrician's, during their 1-year check-up, they were admired, but not so admired as to be freed from their three (six!) awful pokes and Snoopy bandaids. Saul amazed me by walking eleven steps (after a few weeks of one-two-splat, one-two-splat...) right there in the exam room, barefoot and blubbery. He was brilliant. No, I do not favor Saul, even though he says Mama (Yasha still doesn't) and walked eleven steps in front of the nurse only 3 days after his 1st birthday. Yasha tips the scales his way with his eyes...sigh. Then Saul hugs with clinging arms and chest so close, and tips the scales his way. Then Yasha flutters his eyelids. And so on.

Their grey-blond hair is growing unruly, and Daddy would have me cut it. I am relishing the wispy curls and fine, flowing, unbrushable fluff. I love the deedees.  

Fun with kids

A few things I don't want to forget...

Hannah (cuddling with Daddy): Daddy, I laaaaah you. Daddy, you're my Bear. You're my Misha. You're my Shabbashoes. You're my baby! (all objects very dear to her, so it is high praise indeed.)

Naomi (coloring with Ez on Sunday afternoon): Ezwa, why do you always know what you're making--and why do I not know what I'm making? (It's so sweet the way she naturally looks to him as to an oracle, despite his bullying ways...)

Ezra (poring over camping book): I hope we can go camping real soon. That's the reason why I like having barbecues... and eating marshmallows. It's 'cause I'm getting ready to go camping!

Ezra (running to me): Mom, guess what! I have to tell you something! Naomi found a little boy!!! Watch this. (screaming) Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!!!! (echo of unknown, unseen child heard from beyond the trees, saying Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!!) See? I told you. (They do it a few more times.)

Naomi (shouting): Where are you? What's your name? 

Ezra: Mom, if I decided to be an astronaut, would I have to stay in space forever?

Ezra: Mom, can you get me my own computer? Shem Tov has his own computer. Ohhhhh..... and I really want an iPod. 

Mom: Do you even know what an iPod is?

Ezra: Yeah! It's this teeeeny computer, and it has earphones, and it plays music.

Mom: Do you know what a Walkman is?

Ezra: No. Ohh, ohh, but Mom! For my birthday, can I pleeeeeez have a cell phone or a computer. One of those two. 

Daddy: How about a patsh? That's free! (very funny...)

We had a fun Sunday. We made pancakes shaped like circus animals--a seal with a ball on its nose (the ball kept breaking off, and getting "tasted"), an elephant, a lion. I tried a new recipe and discovered that beating the eggs to death before adding everything else makes light, airy, fancy-brunch-cafe-worthy pancakes. The kids stayed outside most of the day, and Ezra busied himself hammering to bits a decrepit old barstool--yes, hammering, since we don't own any proper implements--so it could fit in our garbage bin. It took a while, but he did it. I don't claim to understand it, but there's something about violent destruction (lawful in this case) that fills a boy with glee, and inspires him to work up a real sweat. Next, he attended to the needs of his and Naomi's pet worm, Jackie, who lives in a giant upturned storage bin and gets routinely fed and watered (after he's finally found; he's very good at hiding). 

Clark and Agua (the crazy nonsensical and not-quite-clever names of Saul and Jacob, respec-tively) got to ride ride-on cars outside, chew handlebars and each other, and soak up some much-needed Vitamin D. And Hannah and Naomi dressed, undressed, accessorized, were variously shod, and so on, with no one to rush them anywhere.  And that's about it.