"Dear Mr. & Mrs. Dobrick,"
Why can't anyone get my name right? I'm Ms. Hoover, not Mrs. Dobrick. That is Jeremy's mother. I've never signed my name Dobrick, so why do people always call me that? Wait a minute, this isn't about my name. Why is KZ's school sending me a personalized letter instead of a general form letter?
"After careful consideration,"
Oh no, what are they carefully considering? Does KZ have a speech impediment? Jeremy and I are so worried about that. She can talk up a storm sometimes and other times, she cannot say banana correctly.
"It's ba-NAN-a. Say ba-NAN a," Jeremy says.
"Nana! Nana! Daddy, can I have a nana, peas!"
"It's PA-LEES, not peas."
"Ok, daddy, Nana PEAS."
Is it her hearing or is there something worse wrong with her. I saw an awful episode on House that started something like this. The four year-old died of some terrible disease that could have been prevented if only someone had caught it. One of the signs was his inability to hear certain sounds and therefore make up words. Is this my warning? Should I call a specialist? House, that damn show. It sends me to the Internet for every thing.
"We believe that KZ ..."
Oh, no, it is a "we" thing, not an "I" or a "you", but a "we". People have been thinking about this. Not just one person but many.
"… is ready to begin the transitional process to the … "
Transitional process? Where are they planning to send her? Is her behavior that bad? Are they thinking some type of reform school for three-year olds? I've never heard of it, but this is New York. I'm sure one exists somewhere. She can be strong willed. She isn't into sharing. Can this be related to the popcorn incident where she didn't want to share? Wait, no, that between her father and her at the Muppet Movie. The school wouldn't know about that.
"… next level of developmental education … "
Are they saying she has developmental issues? Oh, God, I didn't think that was a problem. Maybe it is the speech thing, or worse, the House episode in real life.
"… and graduate to the Bumblebee Class."
The Bumblebee Class? THE Bumblebee Class? That is the grade level ahead of KZ's current level of Butterfly. It is effectively skipping a grade, before there are actually grades to skip. KZ has no where else to go but kindergarten and we haven't applied to kindergartens. Of course, in New York, we do have to wait until she is five to go to kindergarten and she cannot even take the tests until she is four. She is only three years and six months, not even seven months, and she is being graduated to the Bumblebee Class?
"Please feel free to request a conference with me if you have any questions."
I have one question. Who stole my little Butterfly and replaced her with a Bumblebee? A real live active Bumblebee who does things like clean up, take bathes, and dress all by herself. I heard her get up the other night, use the potty, flush the toilet, and go back to bed. I just sat there for a moment trying to take it all in. She is such a little independent person. But other times, she is my baby and needs to be cuddled. I need to cuddle her. Mommy needs the cuddles.
My little Bumblebee is growing up faster than I ever imagined.
Tuesday, 29 November 2011
Wednesday, 16 November 2011
I was so tired last night
... that I gave Jake, KZ's cupcake and KZ Jake's bowl of water. She was sitting at the dinning room table looking at me as if I were crazy. I realized what I did in time to fight an empty paper cupcake wrapper out of Jake's mouth. Luckily for all of us it was a vanilla cupcake, and he didn't get sick.
Mommy needs a real vacation, or at least a few good nights of sleep.
Mommy needs a real vacation, or at least a few good nights of sleep.
Thursday, 10 November 2011
The Upper East Side -- Spooky, Speedy, and Just Plain Sleazy!
We've been living on the Upper East Side (UES) for about nine months now. It's taken some time to get use to the place. Not that there is anything really wrong with it, it was just that we loved where we lived in TriBeCa. However, the past week has added a bit of color and adventure to the neighborhood -- some good, some strange, but definitely colorful. I've broken the story up into three parts for easier reading. Enjoy!
+++++++++++++
The Spooky!
Halloween on the UES is like Greenwich Village for little kids. Translation, rockin' cool party! I know we have a lot of kids in our area, but I do think a number of them took the 4, 5, or 6 train just to trick-or-treat here. The little kids wore amazing costumes, no K-Mart plastic here. Many of the parents, me not included, were dressed up as well. KZ was a Butterfly Princess -- not a stretch, but a character she could get into. I was a Tired Mom of a Butterfly Princess, and Jeremy was a Wall Street Bankster. I knew KZ's school had a party, and our building would have trick-or-treating, but the stores and restaurants are what took me by surprise. We could hardly move down the sidewalk on our way home from school around 5:00 pm. Every store, restaurant, nail salon, and business in general was giving out candy. Some even had staff standing on the street as kids lined up. Some poor business owners had signs up saying, "Sorry, out of candy. :-(" or "Trick-or-Treat Hours from 3-5". I didn't see one store that wasn't into it. Since KZ had a party at school, and was going to have another one at our building, I decided only to hit a few strategic places, such as my manicurist, L'Occitane, and the Two Little Hens Bakery for fresh baked cookies. They did not disappoint.
As we got closer to home, I noticed that most of the larger residential buildings were having parties in their lobby ... pizza, candy, drinks and entertainment. Some of the doorman, whom I see every day while walking the dogs, invited us in. I politely declined knowing that our building would be having something similar. They did, but since we have a very small lobby, it got kind of crazy. KZ was not deterred by the crowds. She walked into our lobby and said, "Hi, everybody. I'm KZ, and I'm here!" It was a proud moment for me. After the small party, we went upstairs for a wardrobe change to a different fairy (not butterfly) princess outfit, which enabled her to fly from floor to floor collecting her candy ... which we will be eating well into Thanksgiving week.
I was totally blown away by how the neighborhood got into it.
+++++++++++++
The Speedy!
The weather was perfect, for spectators and runners alike, at this year's New York City Marathon.
Now you want to talk about a cool street party for spectators and runners -- welcome to Marathon Sunday on the UES! The local pubs had DJ's blasting music. People were stacked up four deep along the course just to cheer. The little kids were playing in the streets! It seemed as if my entire neighborhood was into it.
The marathon runs down 1st Ave, which is one block to the west of our place. 86th Street was closed off, with plenty of police around. Therefore, almost all the little kids who were not paying attention to the race were all playing in the street. This really only happens once a year. New York isn't a place were kids can just play in the streets. But the bikes, trikes, skateboards, scooters, and little feet rushing around was a happy site to see.
The major drawback of Marathon Sunday is that we really cannot leave our area. We cannot cross 1st Avenue from approximately 10 am to 5 pm, and there is only one other block to the east before we hit the FDR Expressway. We are locked in. Some people who just can't handle this, leave for the weekend. However, the majority stay -- play in the streets and cheer. And cheer we did. We ran out of the house to see the leaders. It is always cool to see people running faster per mile over 26.2 miles than I can run over 26.2 feet. But after they flew by in a blink, we went back inside to watch the finish on TV.
When we knew that the 4 hour finishers, or mid-pack people, would be coming around, we went back outside. We were lucky enough to find space along the fence for all of us. KZ brought toys and some Halloween candy. She had a little picnic in the perfect weather as Jeremy and I cheered our lungs out for two hours. From running the Paris Marathon, I knew that the French yelled, "Allez, allez, allez!" which means, "Go, go, go!" I made sure I yelled "Allez, allez, allez!" for each person who identified as French. And there were a lot of them. I could hardly talk after all the cheering. Of course, if a person had a name on their shirt, I yelled that too. I know from experience that even if the runner does not acknowledge the cheering, it really does give a lift to their spirits. At the 17.5 mile point, where we were, it can get ugly. I saw grown men crying. Others, cramping, and a number who just started walking. These people I feel for. But the ones on their phone ... please! I can understand listening to music on an iPhone, but even the weight of an iPhone is too much for me. I just couldn't do all that training (or maybe they hadn't) to just phone it in, so to speak.
I was totally blown away by how the neighborhood got into it.
+++++++++++++
And Just Plain Sleazy!
With the time change comes darkness earlier, as we all know. This is nothing new, but this is the first time that I've noticed how clearly I can see into other people's apartments at night. In our last apartment, we were high up, and there really wasn't anyone close to us. I couldn't just look in and see what they were watching on TV, so to speak. Well, oddly enough, I can here. I'm not a voyeur, but I do like to keep my blinds open to see the lights of the city. If I cannot see stars at night, then I want to see a million little windows.
I might just have to start closing the blinds.
There is this guy, and yes, I do believe it is a guy unless it is a woman with a really short haircut and a strap-on, who likes to have sex in front of his windows with bright lights on in the background. I cannot "see" details, and I'm not looking to, but all I see are silhouettes. The first time I noticed this, I was sitting in one of our chairs in the living room, watching KZ watch her Strawberry Shortcake DVD. It was approximately 6:00 pm. I just look up, and bam ... what the what am I seeing? It is kind of like watching a train wreck. You don't want to watch, but then again, you're like, is this for real? My first reaction was, omg, this person doesn't know what they are doing. But then when it happened the next night, and the next night, and even one night he raised his arms in a Victory V, I thought I was going to hurl. Now, I'm not even sure if this is against the law. I would think, but then I don't know. I'm not looking for the show ... trust me, it is just plain creepy, but it seems that it doesn't matter what time of night it is, as soon as it gets dark, he gets busy. It could be 6 pm or 10 pm. So far, KZ has not noticed that anything freaky is happening. But I do think if freak-a-zoid boy doesn't move, I'll have to bring the blinds down. I don't want to see it, nor do I want to be distracted by trying to avoid my windows. We had blinds installed in the summer to keep out the heat of the sun. I never thought I would have to use them to keep out the heat of an exhibitionist.On top of it, I'm not sure if he is looking into other people apartments. And that really weirds me out, especially with a small child.
I was totally grossed out by how this neighbor gets into it.
+++++++++++++
The Spooky!
Halloween on the UES is like Greenwich Village for little kids. Translation, rockin' cool party! I know we have a lot of kids in our area, but I do think a number of them took the 4, 5, or 6 train just to trick-or-treat here. The little kids wore amazing costumes, no K-Mart plastic here. Many of the parents, me not included, were dressed up as well. KZ was a Butterfly Princess -- not a stretch, but a character she could get into. I was a Tired Mom of a Butterfly Princess, and Jeremy was a Wall Street Bankster. I knew KZ's school had a party, and our building would have trick-or-treating, but the stores and restaurants are what took me by surprise. We could hardly move down the sidewalk on our way home from school around 5:00 pm. Every store, restaurant, nail salon, and business in general was giving out candy. Some even had staff standing on the street as kids lined up. Some poor business owners had signs up saying, "Sorry, out of candy. :-(" or "Trick-or-Treat Hours from 3-5". I didn't see one store that wasn't into it. Since KZ had a party at school, and was going to have another one at our building, I decided only to hit a few strategic places, such as my manicurist, L'Occitane, and the Two Little Hens Bakery for fresh baked cookies. They did not disappoint.
As we got closer to home, I noticed that most of the larger residential buildings were having parties in their lobby ... pizza, candy, drinks and entertainment. Some of the doorman, whom I see every day while walking the dogs, invited us in. I politely declined knowing that our building would be having something similar. They did, but since we have a very small lobby, it got kind of crazy. KZ was not deterred by the crowds. She walked into our lobby and said, "Hi, everybody. I'm KZ, and I'm here!" It was a proud moment for me. After the small party, we went upstairs for a wardrobe change to a different fairy (not butterfly) princess outfit, which enabled her to fly from floor to floor collecting her candy ... which we will be eating well into Thanksgiving week.
I was totally blown away by how the neighborhood got into it.
+++++++++++++
The Speedy!
The weather was perfect, for spectators and runners alike, at this year's New York City Marathon.
Now you want to talk about a cool street party for spectators and runners -- welcome to Marathon Sunday on the UES! The local pubs had DJ's blasting music. People were stacked up four deep along the course just to cheer. The little kids were playing in the streets! It seemed as if my entire neighborhood was into it.
The marathon runs down 1st Ave, which is one block to the west of our place. 86th Street was closed off, with plenty of police around. Therefore, almost all the little kids who were not paying attention to the race were all playing in the street. This really only happens once a year. New York isn't a place were kids can just play in the streets. But the bikes, trikes, skateboards, scooters, and little feet rushing around was a happy site to see.
The major drawback of Marathon Sunday is that we really cannot leave our area. We cannot cross 1st Avenue from approximately 10 am to 5 pm, and there is only one other block to the east before we hit the FDR Expressway. We are locked in. Some people who just can't handle this, leave for the weekend. However, the majority stay -- play in the streets and cheer. And cheer we did. We ran out of the house to see the leaders. It is always cool to see people running faster per mile over 26.2 miles than I can run over 26.2 feet. But after they flew by in a blink, we went back inside to watch the finish on TV.
When we knew that the 4 hour finishers, or mid-pack people, would be coming around, we went back outside. We were lucky enough to find space along the fence for all of us. KZ brought toys and some Halloween candy. She had a little picnic in the perfect weather as Jeremy and I cheered our lungs out for two hours. From running the Paris Marathon, I knew that the French yelled, "Allez, allez, allez!" which means, "Go, go, go!" I made sure I yelled "Allez, allez, allez!" for each person who identified as French. And there were a lot of them. I could hardly talk after all the cheering. Of course, if a person had a name on their shirt, I yelled that too. I know from experience that even if the runner does not acknowledge the cheering, it really does give a lift to their spirits. At the 17.5 mile point, where we were, it can get ugly. I saw grown men crying. Others, cramping, and a number who just started walking. These people I feel for. But the ones on their phone ... please! I can understand listening to music on an iPhone, but even the weight of an iPhone is too much for me. I just couldn't do all that training (or maybe they hadn't) to just phone it in, so to speak.
I was totally blown away by how the neighborhood got into it.
+++++++++++++
And Just Plain Sleazy!
With the time change comes darkness earlier, as we all know. This is nothing new, but this is the first time that I've noticed how clearly I can see into other people's apartments at night. In our last apartment, we were high up, and there really wasn't anyone close to us. I couldn't just look in and see what they were watching on TV, so to speak. Well, oddly enough, I can here. I'm not a voyeur, but I do like to keep my blinds open to see the lights of the city. If I cannot see stars at night, then I want to see a million little windows.
I might just have to start closing the blinds.
There is this guy, and yes, I do believe it is a guy unless it is a woman with a really short haircut and a strap-on, who likes to have sex in front of his windows with bright lights on in the background. I cannot "see" details, and I'm not looking to, but all I see are silhouettes. The first time I noticed this, I was sitting in one of our chairs in the living room, watching KZ watch her Strawberry Shortcake DVD. It was approximately 6:00 pm. I just look up, and bam ... what the what am I seeing? It is kind of like watching a train wreck. You don't want to watch, but then again, you're like, is this for real? My first reaction was, omg, this person doesn't know what they are doing. But then when it happened the next night, and the next night, and even one night he raised his arms in a Victory V, I thought I was going to hurl. Now, I'm not even sure if this is against the law. I would think, but then I don't know. I'm not looking for the show ... trust me, it is just plain creepy, but it seems that it doesn't matter what time of night it is, as soon as it gets dark, he gets busy. It could be 6 pm or 10 pm. So far, KZ has not noticed that anything freaky is happening. But I do think if freak-a-zoid boy doesn't move, I'll have to bring the blinds down. I don't want to see it, nor do I want to be distracted by trying to avoid my windows. We had blinds installed in the summer to keep out the heat of the sun. I never thought I would have to use them to keep out the heat of an exhibitionist.On top of it, I'm not sure if he is looking into other people apartments. And that really weirds me out, especially with a small child.
I was totally grossed out by how this neighbor gets into it.
Tuesday, 25 October 2011
The Sydney Harbour Bridge Climb, Maybe
Acrophobia and ancraophobia, describe the two things which frighten me the most. Acrophobia is the fear of heights. Ancraophobia is the fear of wind. I can't tell you exactly when each condition started, but I can remember the first time I felt each one. I was ten, walking home from K-Mart over the 79th Street Bridge in Bridgeview, our town on the southwest side of Chicago. The bridge went over a freight railroad track, which lead to an industrial park that became our playground of rusted railroad spikes and abandoned shipping palettes. Standing at the top of the bridge one day, with the woosh of busy traffic to my back and a speeding freight train underneath, I decided to lean as far over the railing as possible. The motion and wind from the train and the cars, coupled with my being upside down, made me so dizzy that I almost passed out. I was able to right myself, but never again was I able to walk over that bridge, or any bridge, without weak knees. Intensifying my wind fears, is the fact that I can't see wind. People laugh when I say this, but think about it. Wind comes from nowhere and can destroy instantly. It could be a beautiful sunny day, a hurricane, or anything in between. You just cannot predict the wind's force. I saw the damage caused by many tornados when I was a child. People died. The wind could kill. I knew this.
I never know when my fear will stop me cold in my tracks, or when I I'll be able to make it to my goal, wobbly knees and all. One day, I was looking at a new apartment building in Chicago which had a health club on the top floor, fifty stories in the sky. They didn't have the barricades set up yet for the outdoor pool, but asked if we wanted to see it anyway. As soon as I was outside, my legs gave out. I buckled to the ground, unable to move. I had to be carried off. I never even attempted to go to the Observation Deck at the top of the World Trade Center. I was too terrified to go near the buildings, let alone inside or on the top of them. I did manage to make it to the top of the Statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower -- sick, nervous, and shaking the entire time. I'm not going to do it again, but I did do it.
Despite my debilitating fears, I have traveled, by plane, trying to experience as much of what the world has to offer from the man-made to the natural. Life has treated me well. I hiked the Inca Trail with it's shear drop offs with little to no problems, but stopped short at the last fifty yards of Angel's Landing in Zion National Park. No, I really didn't have to see that last bit. I had climbed high enough without killing myself. People rarely die from falls on the Inca Trail, but
it seems there is at least one death a year at Angel's Landing. I didn't need to be that one.
I'm now at the point in my life where I have traveled everywhere I ever dreamed of as a child, and done more than I could have ever expected. My A list is done. Now I'm working on the B and C lists. My husband wants to go as a family to Australia. This could be a great adventure. I've done twenty-two hour flights before, but Australia may even be longer if we count the layovers. But what does one do in Australia? There is Ayer's Rock and the Great Barrier Reef, and I'm sure I can find some tour associated with the movie, Priscilla Queen of the Desert. But what is really calling me to travel all that way, besides people with a cool accent offering me a cold Fosters and shrimp on the barbie?
Each time I think about it, I think about the Sydney Harbour Bridge. The bridge is 134 meters high, approximately 440 feet or the equivalent of a 36 story high rise. It is the largest steel-arch bridge in the world. The Bridge Climb of Sydney Tour Operators offer three tours. The Discovery and Bridge Climbs are approximately three and a half hours with fourteen people per tour. The Bridge Climb is an overall sightseeing climb with the Discovery Climb based more on the engineering aspects of the bridge itself. There is also an Express Climb at two hours and fifteen minutes with twelve people per tour. This is designed more for the hurry-up, take the pictures, check it off the list type of tourists … Americans.
Being an engineer by training, I'm looking at the Discovery Tour. But will I truly be able to do it after traveling all that distance? If it is a windy day, or even not … because the wind could change, will I have the courage to take on both of my fears? Knowing myself, I'll at least start the journey. I'll at least make it to the bridge, inquire with the guides, and decide on the day -- in the moment.
XXX
I never know when my fear will stop me cold in my tracks, or when I I'll be able to make it to my goal, wobbly knees and all. One day, I was looking at a new apartment building in Chicago which had a health club on the top floor, fifty stories in the sky. They didn't have the barricades set up yet for the outdoor pool, but asked if we wanted to see it anyway. As soon as I was outside, my legs gave out. I buckled to the ground, unable to move. I had to be carried off. I never even attempted to go to the Observation Deck at the top of the World Trade Center. I was too terrified to go near the buildings, let alone inside or on the top of them. I did manage to make it to the top of the Statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower -- sick, nervous, and shaking the entire time. I'm not going to do it again, but I did do it.
Despite my debilitating fears, I have traveled, by plane, trying to experience as much of what the world has to offer from the man-made to the natural. Life has treated me well. I hiked the Inca Trail with it's shear drop offs with little to no problems, but stopped short at the last fifty yards of Angel's Landing in Zion National Park. No, I really didn't have to see that last bit. I had climbed high enough without killing myself. People rarely die from falls on the Inca Trail, but
it seems there is at least one death a year at Angel's Landing. I didn't need to be that one.
I'm now at the point in my life where I have traveled everywhere I ever dreamed of as a child, and done more than I could have ever expected. My A list is done. Now I'm working on the B and C lists. My husband wants to go as a family to Australia. This could be a great adventure. I've done twenty-two hour flights before, but Australia may even be longer if we count the layovers. But what does one do in Australia? There is Ayer's Rock and the Great Barrier Reef, and I'm sure I can find some tour associated with the movie, Priscilla Queen of the Desert. But what is really calling me to travel all that way, besides people with a cool accent offering me a cold Fosters and shrimp on the barbie?
Each time I think about it, I think about the Sydney Harbour Bridge. The bridge is 134 meters high, approximately 440 feet or the equivalent of a 36 story high rise. It is the largest steel-arch bridge in the world. The Bridge Climb of Sydney Tour Operators offer three tours. The Discovery and Bridge Climbs are approximately three and a half hours with fourteen people per tour. The Bridge Climb is an overall sightseeing climb with the Discovery Climb based more on the engineering aspects of the bridge itself. There is also an Express Climb at two hours and fifteen minutes with twelve people per tour. This is designed more for the hurry-up, take the pictures, check it off the list type of tourists … Americans.
Being an engineer by training, I'm looking at the Discovery Tour. But will I truly be able to do it after traveling all that distance? If it is a windy day, or even not … because the wind could change, will I have the courage to take on both of my fears? Knowing myself, I'll at least start the journey. I'll at least make it to the bridge, inquire with the guides, and decide on the day -- in the moment.
XXX
Friday, 21 October 2011
Some days you have it all figured out ...
... then there was this morning.
Jeremy left for work and I needed to use the bathroom. The Today show was on, the dogs were sleeping on the sofa, and KZ was playing with her toys. I went into the bathroom for a few minutes. When I came out, the Today show was on, the dogs were sleeping on the sofa, and KZ was no where to be found.
I headed for the front door. It was open. Jeremy must have left it unlocked, and I didn't check it after he left. An immediate sick feeling hit my gut.
I ran into the communal hallway to find my smiling three year old daughter standing there only in her underwear heading for the stairwell.
"Hi, Mommy!"
Once inside, we had a conversation about how it is NOT safe to be outside the apartment without Mommy or Daddy. We have had this conversation before. I hope, but do not know, that my neighbors are trustworthy, but I'd rather not find out the hard way.
This parent job is so hard.
Jeremy left for work and I needed to use the bathroom. The Today show was on, the dogs were sleeping on the sofa, and KZ was playing with her toys. I went into the bathroom for a few minutes. When I came out, the Today show was on, the dogs were sleeping on the sofa, and KZ was no where to be found.
I headed for the front door. It was open. Jeremy must have left it unlocked, and I didn't check it after he left. An immediate sick feeling hit my gut.
I ran into the communal hallway to find my smiling three year old daughter standing there only in her underwear heading for the stairwell.
"Hi, Mommy!"
Once inside, we had a conversation about how it is NOT safe to be outside the apartment without Mommy or Daddy. We have had this conversation before. I hope, but do not know, that my neighbors are trustworthy, but I'd rather not find out the hard way.
This parent job is so hard.
Thursday, 20 October 2011
A Novel Approach
KZ has this habit of piling all our books, as many of them as she can reach, on the floor. She piles them two or three high and places them lengthwise across our living room area. We have a lot of books. She seems to get excited while doing this. Not nervous, but as if she is on a deadline. She is extremely focused in her work.
"Come on Mommy, help me, help me!"
Sometimes I help, other times I tell her that Mommy is busy. I don't really know why she is doing this, but she does it often -- but not every day. Once all the books are in place, she seems to calm down, then goes about her normal business of being a three years old. She does not let me move the books.
Yesterday morning, she woke up, looked out the window and said, "It's raining, Mommy!" Then immediately started piling the books along the floor.
"Help me, Mommy, help me!"
"Honey, WHY are we doing this?"
"Mommy, we are building a damn in case it floods."
Oh, now I get it. Mommy can be the slow one in comparison to KZ. With all the rain in the New York/New Jersey area, she's been seeing a lot of flooding and a lot of sandbags and damns. She knows from her Strawberry Shortcake videos that damns keep the town safe when it floods. She is doing her part to make sure we stay safe.
Jeremy walked into the living room.
"KZ, why are all the books on the floor?"
"Because it is raining, and rains may bring floods, and floods need damns. She is protecting our home," I answered.
He just looked at me and smiled.
"I like her logic," he said.
"Come on Mommy, help me, help me!"
Sometimes I help, other times I tell her that Mommy is busy. I don't really know why she is doing this, but she does it often -- but not every day. Once all the books are in place, she seems to calm down, then goes about her normal business of being a three years old. She does not let me move the books.
Yesterday morning, she woke up, looked out the window and said, "It's raining, Mommy!" Then immediately started piling the books along the floor.
"Help me, Mommy, help me!"
"Honey, WHY are we doing this?"
"Mommy, we are building a damn in case it floods."
Oh, now I get it. Mommy can be the slow one in comparison to KZ. With all the rain in the New York/New Jersey area, she's been seeing a lot of flooding and a lot of sandbags and damns. She knows from her Strawberry Shortcake videos that damns keep the town safe when it floods. She is doing her part to make sure we stay safe.
Jeremy walked into the living room.
"KZ, why are all the books on the floor?"
"Because it is raining, and rains may bring floods, and floods need damns. She is protecting our home," I answered.
He just looked at me and smiled.
"I like her logic," he said.
Friday, 14 October 2011
Happy Halloween
Halloween has always been such a wonderful time of year. With summer having passed, but the winter still not upon us, the perfect autumnal nights brought with it the crisp air and ever so light breezes. It was the perfectly timed breezes that brought forth the lovely reds, yellows, and golds drifting spookily down upon us while we would trick-or-treat under the old elm trees. Walking down the white sidewalks, which cut through the manicured lawns, we were always amazed by the amount of decorations on each house we passed. The houses, designed primarily by Mr. Wright, had orange lights delicately hanging from the over sized eaves. All the porches sported jack-o-lanterns with the real candles burning within. Each family had handmade witches, ghosts, and cobwebs strategically placed on their house and throughout their yard. All yards and sidewalks were well lit so that no little child would feel afraid in any way.
The neighbors decorated extensively for Halloween, however, each family had its own unique style. The Stewart family hosted pumpkin carving lessons weeks before the big night. Mrs. Stewart would sit each of us down with our own pumpkin, patterns, and carving tools with her name on them from Michael's craft store explaining in detail what we should be striving for. She was interested, too, in people expressing their true personality, as long as it conformed to her set of rules. This was fine with most of us, because we felt Mrs. Steward was always correct. She taught us how to carve our pumpkins in such a way that they would not rot before Halloween
"That would not be a good things," she would say.
Mrs. Stewart's home was always a symbol of perfection. Unnoticed, she did have a full staff working behind the scenes making it appear as if she did everything by herself.
Concerning costumes, each family would handmade their own, surrounding a central theme suggested by Mr. Gunn. Since, of course, all the mothers (and even most of the fathers) knew how to sew, this little competition lead by Mr. Gunn was always a lot of fun. I do remember the year my parents went as Mr. and Mrs. Dracula. Mom's naturally flowing black hair, formed the frame for the ghostly white theater paint she had applied to her face. Mrs. Klum, while visibly pregnant, applied Mom's make-up details. My parents wore matching costumes; white shirts, black trouser/skirt, and black satin capes. Dad had a red cummerbund, while Mom wore a red corset. I was a little vampire. I had my hair pulled back in a tight bun, and wore a rhinestone choker to "hide" my puncture wounds. I wore a long white dress with puffy capped sleeves, an a fake corset sewed directly into the dress. The dress was trimmed in black. My red accents came via my lips and cheekbones, thanks to Mrs. Klum. My brother, wanting to deviate from our vampire look, went with a pirate costume. He was still in the black, white, and red color motif. Unfortunately, his being a pirate, not a vampire, did disqualify us from the family costume contest. My brother was somehow able to keep his costume clean while he ran around with the other boys over the haystacks and through the pumpkin patch.
Each year, the block party committee would secure a permit for a Halloween Fest on our street. After the Michael Jackson video "Thriller" came out in December of 1983, Mrs. Abdul taught each of us the dance. Oh what fun we would have bouncing around the streets in our werewolf, mummy, and zombie costumes. That was always a real treat. After the traditional dance which signified the start of our party, we would proceed to speed pumpkin carving, candy apple making sessions, and apple bobbing contests to name a few of the organized activities. For those children who loved apple bobby, and honestly who doesn't, the barrel seemed endless We could get wet while bobbing, but couldn't be seen afterwards as wet at all. The secret, our parents always had a spare, dry costume ready. All of the food judging competitions would be conducted by Mr. Brown, even the homemade apple cider tasting. This was non-alcoholic, of course, because public displays of intoxication were just not tolerated. Speaking of drinks and food, we did have a wonderful array of sweets and savory dishes. Many of the families, lead by Mrs. Ray, would whip up a variety of meals, each taking no more than 30 minutes.
The evening would wrap up no later than 9 PM. The streets needed to be cleaned, food stored properly and children well rested for the next day.
Oh, Halloween, what wonderful memories ... or was it all just marketing I remember?
The neighbors decorated extensively for Halloween, however, each family had its own unique style. The Stewart family hosted pumpkin carving lessons weeks before the big night. Mrs. Stewart would sit each of us down with our own pumpkin, patterns, and carving tools with her name on them from Michael's craft store explaining in detail what we should be striving for. She was interested, too, in people expressing their true personality, as long as it conformed to her set of rules. This was fine with most of us, because we felt Mrs. Steward was always correct. She taught us how to carve our pumpkins in such a way that they would not rot before Halloween
"That would not be a good things," she would say.
Mrs. Stewart's home was always a symbol of perfection. Unnoticed, she did have a full staff working behind the scenes making it appear as if she did everything by herself.
Concerning costumes, each family would handmade their own, surrounding a central theme suggested by Mr. Gunn. Since, of course, all the mothers (and even most of the fathers) knew how to sew, this little competition lead by Mr. Gunn was always a lot of fun. I do remember the year my parents went as Mr. and Mrs. Dracula. Mom's naturally flowing black hair, formed the frame for the ghostly white theater paint she had applied to her face. Mrs. Klum, while visibly pregnant, applied Mom's make-up details. My parents wore matching costumes; white shirts, black trouser/skirt, and black satin capes. Dad had a red cummerbund, while Mom wore a red corset. I was a little vampire. I had my hair pulled back in a tight bun, and wore a rhinestone choker to "hide" my puncture wounds. I wore a long white dress with puffy capped sleeves, an a fake corset sewed directly into the dress. The dress was trimmed in black. My red accents came via my lips and cheekbones, thanks to Mrs. Klum. My brother, wanting to deviate from our vampire look, went with a pirate costume. He was still in the black, white, and red color motif. Unfortunately, his being a pirate, not a vampire, did disqualify us from the family costume contest. My brother was somehow able to keep his costume clean while he ran around with the other boys over the haystacks and through the pumpkin patch.
Each year, the block party committee would secure a permit for a Halloween Fest on our street. After the Michael Jackson video "Thriller" came out in December of 1983, Mrs. Abdul taught each of us the dance. Oh what fun we would have bouncing around the streets in our werewolf, mummy, and zombie costumes. That was always a real treat. After the traditional dance which signified the start of our party, we would proceed to speed pumpkin carving, candy apple making sessions, and apple bobbing contests to name a few of the organized activities. For those children who loved apple bobby, and honestly who doesn't, the barrel seemed endless We could get wet while bobbing, but couldn't be seen afterwards as wet at all. The secret, our parents always had a spare, dry costume ready. All of the food judging competitions would be conducted by Mr. Brown, even the homemade apple cider tasting. This was non-alcoholic, of course, because public displays of intoxication were just not tolerated. Speaking of drinks and food, we did have a wonderful array of sweets and savory dishes. Many of the families, lead by Mrs. Ray, would whip up a variety of meals, each taking no more than 30 minutes.
The evening would wrap up no later than 9 PM. The streets needed to be cleaned, food stored properly and children well rested for the next day.
Oh, Halloween, what wonderful memories ... or was it all just marketing I remember?
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