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A couple of posts ago I talked about going out to a friend's house with my husband and another couple and hanging out...like adults, sans children. (although they came up frequently in conversation)
I'm pleased to say that I took this morning off work, as did my husband, to settle our youngest into his first day of school. Then we went out for a tete-a-tete (imagine the appropriate accents on the words) and had breakfast at a nearby cafe.
Yay, I had a breakfast date with my husband. Let the good times roll...!
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Back to School, Back to Reality
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Umm...does this image caption refer to stress on the kids or on their parents?
'Cause I think I might already need to take a long, hot bubble bath in the Jacuzzi, and sign up for a 90-minute session with a masseuse...
And it's only the first day of school -- for two of my three kids.
Tomorrow, child # 3 starts senior kindergarten, school for the first time. Until now, he was with a home day care provider. This provider babysitter has been the surrogate mother for my children since my eldest ( now 10 years old) was 6 months old; he stuck around with her till he was three; my daughter stayed till she was five, and my youngest is also leaving at age five.
In essence, this wonderful woman has raised my children on a daily basis from infancy through early childhood. Every day with her was "back to school."
Giddiness fills the air, carpool traffic fills the neighborhood streets and school parking lots on the first day of school. Forms and notes fill the children's knapsacks on the first day of school. Appointment notices and schedules fill my bulletin board on the first day of school.
The cycle repeats each year...and I recall my own first days as a student. Tradition held that my mother would take a photo on the first day of school, capturing me dressed in a new article of clothing or wearing new shoes and toting a new schoolbag. That tradition has carried over into my married life, and we ushered the children out early this a.m. to have them stand in our front yard and capture their faces on camera, in their first-day jitters and twitters.
These kids of mine now write in a daily school agenda, listing assignments, tests, homework, memos. I think I ought to get one of those agendas for myself...to help manage -- and minimize -- that back to school stress. Or maybe I should go back to school myself, take a stress-management course, and maybe by next year, having had a wonderful practical placement in my own home, who knows....? Maybe I'll get to teach the class.
Hope all of you who attend school, or those of you who send off others to school, had a good first day back. Break out those books; you've got some studying to do!
Tickle My Tichel
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I just found this bit in the NY Times online section. It certainly tickled my invisible tichel -- and funny bone.
Correction: August 27, 2005, Saturday An article on Aug. 19 about a peddler at the bungalow colonies in the Catskills where many Orthodox Jews spend summers misstated the length of Tishah b'Ab, the observance of mourning for the destruction of the First and Second Temples of Jerusalem, when the faithful wear plastic sandals to abstain from leather. It is a single day -- the ninth of the month of Ab -- not nine days. The article also misspelled the term for a head covering sold to some Orthodox women. It is a tichel, not a tickle.
I just found this bit in the NY Times online section. It certainly tickled my invisible tichel -- and funny bone.
Correction: August 27, 2005, Saturday An article on Aug. 19 about a peddler at the bungalow colonies in the Catskills where many Orthodox Jews spend summers misstated the length of Tishah b'Ab, the observance of mourning for the destruction of the First and Second Temples of Jerusalem, when the faithful wear plastic sandals to abstain from leather. It is a single day -- the ninth of the month of Ab -- not nine days. The article also misspelled the term for a head covering sold to some Orthodox women. It is a tichel, not a tickle.
Monday, September 05, 2005
Yay, I Feel Like a Grown-Up
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I pay taxes. I pay bills. I own a home...and a mortgage. I own two vehicles. I had three children by natural birth and reasonably quick labors. I work outside the home. I am a mother and a wife.
I would say these qualify me as pretty much a grown-up.
But because I'm a grown-up, my life, together with my husband's, is so wrapped up in the lives of our children, our parents, our siblings. It is pretty rare that we go out together as a couple, just because circumstances seldom allow us that luxury, and if given the chance to do so, we're really just so tired from keeping up with daily family and work life. So in essence, and for the most part, we're homebodies. (I might still yearn for jazz clubs, or comedy clubs, or galleries or concerts, but those do appear on my social calendar once every few months...um, I mean years.)
We were invited to another couple last night for coffee; they too were seeking adult company after having been on holiday for two weeks with their four children. We accepted the invitation, and hired a new babysitter and went to the other couple's home. Another girlfriend and her husband showed up, as well, a short time later. She, too, exclaimed that it was so nice to get such an invitation.
We three couples, who have ten children between us, sat and discussed how, aside from going to people's homes for Shabbos and Yom Tov (and with our children in tow!), really never went out. Okay, does going to a simcha (wedding/bar or bat mitzvah) count?
It was a nice evening to sit and shmooze about this, that and other, with: this = kids; that= school; other = shul. We hadn't strayed too far from our homes geographically, but mentally and psychologically it was as if we were miles away... we were able to be grown-ups, not just family people.
Today I talked about the evening with my husband, and we actually could not remember the last time we ever went over to someone's house or out with another couple. Let's hope this might be the start of a new phase in our lives...
I pay taxes. I pay bills. I own a home...and a mortgage. I own two vehicles. I had three children by natural birth and reasonably quick labors. I work outside the home. I am a mother and a wife.
I would say these qualify me as pretty much a grown-up.
But because I'm a grown-up, my life, together with my husband's, is so wrapped up in the lives of our children, our parents, our siblings. It is pretty rare that we go out together as a couple, just because circumstances seldom allow us that luxury, and if given the chance to do so, we're really just so tired from keeping up with daily family and work life. So in essence, and for the most part, we're homebodies. (I might still yearn for jazz clubs, or comedy clubs, or galleries or concerts, but those do appear on my social calendar once every few months...um, I mean years.)
We were invited to another couple last night for coffee; they too were seeking adult company after having been on holiday for two weeks with their four children. We accepted the invitation, and hired a new babysitter and went to the other couple's home. Another girlfriend and her husband showed up, as well, a short time later. She, too, exclaimed that it was so nice to get such an invitation.
We three couples, who have ten children between us, sat and discussed how, aside from going to people's homes for Shabbos and Yom Tov (and with our children in tow!), really never went out. Okay, does going to a simcha (wedding/bar or bat mitzvah) count?
It was a nice evening to sit and shmooze about this, that and other, with: this = kids; that= school; other = shul. We hadn't strayed too far from our homes geographically, but mentally and psychologically it was as if we were miles away... we were able to be grown-ups, not just family people.
Today I talked about the evening with my husband, and we actually could not remember the last time we ever went over to someone's house or out with another couple. Let's hope this might be the start of a new phase in our lives...
Sunday, September 04, 2005
A Thought for Today (not original...unfortunately)
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I received this today from a distant cousin in Australia. It stood out amidst the rest of the e-mail message. It's probably worth remembering...
A true friend is someone who reaches for your hand and touches your heart.
I received this today from a distant cousin in Australia. It stood out amidst the rest of the e-mail message. It's probably worth remembering...
A true friend is someone who reaches for your hand and touches your heart.
Write On...
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I have to admit something (isn't my entire blog an admittance of something or other anyways?).
I love it when I know that I have actual writers reading my blog, with some of them even commenting from time to time. Screenwriters, fiction writers, copywriters, freelance writers, columnists, etc.
I'm not really sure why the thought of writers reading my words means so much; perhaps it's because I find myself on the periphery of that particular category, and I feel a need to belong. The fact that these people read Pearlies of Wisdom is perhaps my way of belonging...? The fact that I might have something interesting to say that draws them in is an ego stroker for me. These people hone their writing craft daily, I polish off my writing skills semi-regularly (not counting writing a blog, of course) and actually attempt to create something publishable. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.
But in the meantime I can be content to know that my blog's words act as a drawbridge, allowing these writers to cross over to the other side and act as readers.
I have to admit something (isn't my entire blog an admittance of something or other anyways?).
I love it when I know that I have actual writers reading my blog, with some of them even commenting from time to time. Screenwriters, fiction writers, copywriters, freelance writers, columnists, etc.
I'm not really sure why the thought of writers reading my words means so much; perhaps it's because I find myself on the periphery of that particular category, and I feel a need to belong. The fact that these people read Pearlies of Wisdom is perhaps my way of belonging...? The fact that I might have something interesting to say that draws them in is an ego stroker for me. These people hone their writing craft daily, I polish off my writing skills semi-regularly (not counting writing a blog, of course) and actually attempt to create something publishable. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.
But in the meantime I can be content to know that my blog's words act as a drawbridge, allowing these writers to cross over to the other side and act as readers.
Friday, September 02, 2005
Just Say "We're Fixin' the Road"... Okay?
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On my way to and from work, I take varying routes-- no highways, but lots of side streets and main streets. I prefer driving through residential areas, looking at landscaping and architecture, rather than driving through commercialized main thoroughfares.
On one of my semi-regular routes is a big posted sign: Road Rehabilitation Program.
What a fancy-schmancy name; it just translates as "These roads are being fixed!"
But it sounds as if it's like a medical rehabilitation program -- a diagnosis, a prognosis, a method of care and paying lots of medical bills. In this case, it's break up the concrete, dig up some earth, add tar, flatten the tar, pave the road nice...and get lots of drivers irked because they have to slow down or find alternate routes.
Have any of you seen signs around (not necessarily roadworks-related) that say something basic but in a fancier way? Care to share?
On my way to and from work, I take varying routes-- no highways, but lots of side streets and main streets. I prefer driving through residential areas, looking at landscaping and architecture, rather than driving through commercialized main thoroughfares.
On one of my semi-regular routes is a big posted sign: Road Rehabilitation Program.
What a fancy-schmancy name; it just translates as "These roads are being fixed!"
But it sounds as if it's like a medical rehabilitation program -- a diagnosis, a prognosis, a method of care and paying lots of medical bills. In this case, it's break up the concrete, dig up some earth, add tar, flatten the tar, pave the road nice...and get lots of drivers irked because they have to slow down or find alternate routes.
Have any of you seen signs around (not necessarily roadworks-related) that say something basic but in a fancier way? Care to share?
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Something To Ponder
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If it's called Labor Day, how come I have the day off from work...?
Hmmm????
(an aside: in Canada we spell it Labour Day, but for the sake of my readers, who are primarily American, I've continuously been using American spelling in my blog and personal correspondence with fellow bloggers. Reason: I don't want any of you to think that I, a copy editor, don't know how to spell! Look, I can even spell in Canadian and American! You say labor, I say labour, you say mold, I say mould, labor, labour, mold, mould, let's call the whole thing off... You say jewelry, I say jewellery, you say honor, I say honour, jewelery, jewellery, honor, honour, let's call the whole thing off...)
If it's called Labor Day, how come I have the day off from work...?
Hmmm????
(an aside: in Canada we spell it Labour Day, but for the sake of my readers, who are primarily American, I've continuously been using American spelling in my blog and personal correspondence with fellow bloggers. Reason: I don't want any of you to think that I, a copy editor, don't know how to spell! Look, I can even spell in Canadian and American! You say labor, I say labour, you say mold, I say mould, labor, labour, mold, mould, let's call the whole thing off... You say jewelry, I say jewellery, you say honor, I say honour, jewelery, jewellery, honor, honour, let's call the whole thing off...)
We Need a 12-Step Program in Our Home/ And On Another Note... (Wow, a 2-for-1 Post!)
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I admit it loud and clear. I'm an addict. To the blogging life -- reading, writing, commenting.
Lately, my family members have developed addictions of their own.
Late at night, when I want to get online to check out my favorite slew of blogs, I've started to find my husband at the computer...checking out Ebay. He hasn't been an excessive bidder, but he's become an excessive bid watcher. And he's taking up my valuable computer time by doing so!
Son #1 is addicted to watching baseball games or the highlights on TV. Give it a few more weeks, and the sport of the day will be hockey. (I was so thankful there was no Canadian hockey for him to watch this past year.)
Daughter is addicted to watching these teeny-bopper shows that feature Britney Spears's younger sister, Jaime, or shows that feature Raven Simone, the now all-grown-up girl who used to be a cute tot on the Cosby show.
Son #2 is addicted to playing GameCube. He gets up very (and I mean VERY) early in the morning, runs into my room to ask if it's light outside yet, and if it's not, I say it's too early and he goes back to sleep for a couple of hours. If it's a reasonable hour, I just give him the head nod and "okay" and within minutes he's dressed himself, brushed his teeth, washed his face and is headed to the family room to spend some precious time with his game before Son #1 wakes up and competes to play a different game.
So what's wrong with this picture? Well, we're all addicts, and we're all addicted to something that has to do with a screen, with something you watch.
Yes, my kids and I and my husband read books too, play board games, play outside, so it's not as if we spend ALL our time in front of a screen. But maybe there is a group, Screeners Anonymous, that we can join. Maybe at the first session, we deal with a Primal Screen. That would be an audiovisual screen listing the group's 12-step program. I'm not too sure what those 12 steps would entail, but I figure we could get a group rate to partake in them, and wean ourselves off these terrible vices of ours, then perhaps go on to mentor others who also got waylaid in life by screens.
Yes, I guess in essence that this post is just another "screen for help"!
*******
And On Another Note....
Happy September 1. It's hard to believe that we're already in September.
I have absolutely NO CLUE where summer went after I returned from California and Florida. But it sure didn't have an in-your-face attitude this year.
It's hard to believe my kids start school next week -- grade 5, grade 3 and full-day senior kindergarten. It's hard to believe that my kids are already those ages for those grades.
It's hard to believe that later this month I'll turn 44.
I have absolutely NO CLUE where my life went after I left the one-womb schoolhouse all those years ago. It's just zipping along...
...and I'm trying to keep up.
I admit it loud and clear. I'm an addict. To the blogging life -- reading, writing, commenting.
Lately, my family members have developed addictions of their own.
Late at night, when I want to get online to check out my favorite slew of blogs, I've started to find my husband at the computer...checking out Ebay. He hasn't been an excessive bidder, but he's become an excessive bid watcher. And he's taking up my valuable computer time by doing so!
Son #1 is addicted to watching baseball games or the highlights on TV. Give it a few more weeks, and the sport of the day will be hockey. (I was so thankful there was no Canadian hockey for him to watch this past year.)
Daughter is addicted to watching these teeny-bopper shows that feature Britney Spears's younger sister, Jaime, or shows that feature Raven Simone, the now all-grown-up girl who used to be a cute tot on the Cosby show.
Son #2 is addicted to playing GameCube. He gets up very (and I mean VERY) early in the morning, runs into my room to ask if it's light outside yet, and if it's not, I say it's too early and he goes back to sleep for a couple of hours. If it's a reasonable hour, I just give him the head nod and "okay" and within minutes he's dressed himself, brushed his teeth, washed his face and is headed to the family room to spend some precious time with his game before Son #1 wakes up and competes to play a different game.
So what's wrong with this picture? Well, we're all addicts, and we're all addicted to something that has to do with a screen, with something you watch.
Yes, my kids and I and my husband read books too, play board games, play outside, so it's not as if we spend ALL our time in front of a screen. But maybe there is a group, Screeners Anonymous, that we can join. Maybe at the first session, we deal with a Primal Screen. That would be an audiovisual screen listing the group's 12-step program. I'm not too sure what those 12 steps would entail, but I figure we could get a group rate to partake in them, and wean ourselves off these terrible vices of ours, then perhaps go on to mentor others who also got waylaid in life by screens.
Yes, I guess in essence that this post is just another "screen for help"!
*******
And On Another Note....
Happy September 1. It's hard to believe that we're already in September.
I have absolutely NO CLUE where summer went after I returned from California and Florida. But it sure didn't have an in-your-face attitude this year.
It's hard to believe my kids start school next week -- grade 5, grade 3 and full-day senior kindergarten. It's hard to believe that my kids are already those ages for those grades.
It's hard to believe that later this month I'll turn 44.
I have absolutely NO CLUE where my life went after I left the one-womb schoolhouse all those years ago. It's just zipping along...
...and I'm trying to keep up.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
My Son the "Crack Dancer"
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We had a family simcha this past weekend; it was a niece's bat mitzvah party...celebrated Moroccan-style. That means fabulous Sephardi music with lots of drums and nasal voices, a colorful spectrum of caftans and fez hats parading through the social hall, rose water sprinkled around, a procession of family members holding above their heads trays with sweets, nuts, coins and jewelery for the bat-mitzvah girl. The piece de resistance was when my niece was carried out on a litter, not unlike Cleopatra being carried by slaves on a canopy covered sofa. My niece was wearing a white caftan with a beautiful jeweled headpiece on her forehead, and marched around the room in circles high above the shoulders of uncles and cousins. It was like something from a MGM film from the fifties. Later, women were invited to receive henna on their palms.
I watched in wonder, thinking that technically my daughter should celebrate in the same way because I am married to a Sephardic man. Only difference...he was raised very Ashkenazic...and although these Morrocan traditions might be in his roots, it's not part of his cultural awareness and upbringing. (his brother, on the other hand, although raised the same way, is married to a Morrocan-born girl who thrives on the culture and traditions, and so, he is immersed in that style of living)
Well, while all this great music was playing, with some very upbeat tempos, my five-year-old was suddenly on the floor, lying on his back, spinning around and doing some great moves. I looked at my husband in surprise: "How does he know how to do this, how to dance like this?" He shrugged, and was equally amused.
It isn't as if my son watches American Bandstand (is that even on still, I wonder?) or Soul Train, two favorite shows of mine, while growing up. But he kept smiling and spinning and showing us and everybody "what he's got"!
When he was finally finished, I asked him how he knew how to break dance. He smiled and shrugged with an "I dunno" look. But he did know to correct me...because according to him, he wasn't break dancing, he was "crack dancing"!
We had a family simcha this past weekend; it was a niece's bat mitzvah party...celebrated Moroccan-style. That means fabulous Sephardi music with lots of drums and nasal voices, a colorful spectrum of caftans and fez hats parading through the social hall, rose water sprinkled around, a procession of family members holding above their heads trays with sweets, nuts, coins and jewelery for the bat-mitzvah girl. The piece de resistance was when my niece was carried out on a litter, not unlike Cleopatra being carried by slaves on a canopy covered sofa. My niece was wearing a white caftan with a beautiful jeweled headpiece on her forehead, and marched around the room in circles high above the shoulders of uncles and cousins. It was like something from a MGM film from the fifties. Later, women were invited to receive henna on their palms.
I watched in wonder, thinking that technically my daughter should celebrate in the same way because I am married to a Sephardic man. Only difference...he was raised very Ashkenazic...and although these Morrocan traditions might be in his roots, it's not part of his cultural awareness and upbringing. (his brother, on the other hand, although raised the same way, is married to a Morrocan-born girl who thrives on the culture and traditions, and so, he is immersed in that style of living)
Well, while all this great music was playing, with some very upbeat tempos, my five-year-old was suddenly on the floor, lying on his back, spinning around and doing some great moves. I looked at my husband in surprise: "How does he know how to do this, how to dance like this?" He shrugged, and was equally amused.
It isn't as if my son watches American Bandstand (is that even on still, I wonder?) or Soul Train, two favorite shows of mine, while growing up. But he kept smiling and spinning and showing us and everybody "what he's got"!
When he was finally finished, I asked him how he knew how to break dance. He smiled and shrugged with an "I dunno" look. But he did know to correct me...because according to him, he wasn't break dancing, he was "crack dancing"!
Monday, August 29, 2005
72.129.110.# Where Are You?
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When I was just a babe in arms, there used to be a TV show called "Car 54, Where Are You?"
My post is entitled "72.129.110.# Where Are You?"
Somewhere out there in blogland is someone who has this number/server number (don't know the technical term) allocated to them. All I know is that the location is United States, and they link to me via www.seraphicpress.com. Whoever this is seems to spend time reading my posts... Which is good, in my eyes.
I'm curious to know who this is...or perhaps I already know them. If that is your "secret number," please do write and let me know.
(I once put out the same appeal on a post. Someone with the "address" of www.nbc.com had linked to me and I was curious who. A celebrity? A behind the scenes person? Of course that appeal went unanswered. Maybe I'll do better with this one.)
When I was just a babe in arms, there used to be a TV show called "Car 54, Where Are You?"
My post is entitled "72.129.110.# Where Are You?"
Somewhere out there in blogland is someone who has this number/server number (don't know the technical term) allocated to them. All I know is that the location is United States, and they link to me via www.seraphicpress.com. Whoever this is seems to spend time reading my posts... Which is good, in my eyes.
I'm curious to know who this is...or perhaps I already know them. If that is your "secret number," please do write and let me know.
(I once put out the same appeal on a post. Someone with the "address" of www.nbc.com had linked to me and I was curious who. A celebrity? A behind the scenes person? Of course that appeal went unanswered. Maybe I'll do better with this one.)
You Don't Bring Me Flowers...Anymore (again!)
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MCAryeh, firstly I must apologize if that other photo from the original post was misleading. It wasn't meant to be. It just caught my eye. I'm sure there's a story behind it, but it isn't mine.
This image caught my eye, too. Nobody can really top THE THREE STOOGES and their attempt to woo me...except for my husband, and this post is about him.
When I was newly married, my husband used to bring me a bouquet of flowers for every Shabbos. Yes, the vase enhanced the dining room table or the coffee table -- the only two places I had to display the flowers -- but after several weeks, my practicality won out. I told my husband that although I appreciated the thoughtfulness, we should save our money and he could buy me flowers on certain Yom Tovs and birthdays and anniversaries. So yes, I'd see flowers on Pesach, Shavuot, Rosh Hashana and Sukkot usually, as well as on a special day in September and a special day in December. That was enough for me, especially since I'm lacking a green thumb and flowers never last too long under my "watchful" eye.
My husband is rather private and not one for public displays -- so why is his wife keeping a blog? He might not be too outward in his affections, but he definitely shares them.
He believes in the theory of "whenever"-- whenever the mood strikes, he might give me a gift or a bouquet or a single rose. These "just because" gifts mean so much to me and to him. Here are 2 wonderful examples:
1. Several months after we married, we were walking and window shopping in the Toronto Beaches area, a trendy neighborhood at the lakeside, with a boardwalk, and funky shops at street level. I noticed a wonderful serving tray in the window of a store, we looked at it briefly on the shelf and then left.
A day later I came home from work to find a wrapped gift on the kitchen table. It was that serving tray. He'd seen how much I'd liked it and made it a point to take a co-worker during lunch hour (extended, in this case!) to help him maneuver his way to that end of the city, and retracing his steps to find that store.
2. I was at a sprawling mall and noticed a beautiful wrought-iron bench that I thought would look perfect in our entrance hallway. It was rather expensive, as was the separate pillow, so I walked away from it. But that night I told my husband all about the bench.
Several weeks later I came home on my birthday to find that wrought iron bench, with pillow, in our hallway, wrapped with a red ribbon. He'd searched out that store in that mall with the described bench, and had bought it and schlepped it home in preparations for my homecoming.
It's these "just because" gifts that speak to my heart because they show that my heart was speaking to him and he was listening at the time.
So, too, when it comes to words. I am the evident wordsmith in this family, but it's as if my husband stores up deep-felt feelings and thoughts for birthday cards, anniversary cards, Mother's Day cards, Mazel Tov on baby cards. No gift in the world can surpass the gift of his words -- the beauty and boldness of them or their impact. Those few lines encapture a deep, abiding love, and it's not because I need to read them that he writes them; it's because those feelings are clearly there.
I don't need flowers, or jewelery or big-ticket items from my husband. It's just so nice to know I always get a gift from the heart, whether it's in words, whether it's in a finely detailed and thought-out or spontaneous action. And this, my friends, speaks volumes above all.
Yes, I'll accept these flowers from THE THREE STOOGES, but Mr. TorontoPearl...? No need to
order a dozen red roses with baby's breath, because you, your words and your actions continue to take my breath away!
Sunday, August 28, 2005
20 Ways To Bring Out the Best in Your Children
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Rabbi Zelig Pliskin has these wise words to share. I read them, they make sense, and they are a wonderful road map to follow when parenting. I'm on that road, and am still trying to be the best navigator I can be.
Here is the road map to keep in your glove box:
1) Love your children unconditionally -- irrespective of whether they "behave nicely," clean up their room, and do their homework. Your love must go beyond this. Your children will feel it.
2) Each day tell your children that you love them. All you have to say is three words, "I love you." If this is difficult for you, that is a sign you really need to say it.
3) Speak and act in ways that gives your children a positive self-image. Believe in your child. Believe in his abilities and potential. Say explicitly, "I believe in you." How do you know when you are successful at this? When your child says, "I see that you believe in me."
4) Be a role model for the traits and qualities that you want your children to possess. Share your day with your kids so they know what you do and can learn from you and your experiences.
5) Clarify the main positive qualities you want your child to develop. Keep praising those qualities. Reinforce each quality when your child speaks or acts in ways consistent with that quality.
6) Each child is unique and different. Understand each child's uniqueness and take it into consideration when a challenge arises. Don't take the "cookie cutter" approach. A method of disciple that inspires one child may discourage another.
7) Word your comments positively. Focus on the outcome you want. Say: "By developing this quality (for example, taking action right away), you will be more successful in life." (Rather than saying the negative.)
8) Keep asking yourself, What is the wisest thing to say to my child right now? Especially say this when your child has messed up.
9) Read great books to your children.
10) When you come across a story that has an important positive lesson for your child, relate it. Look for stories that teach lessons. Ask people for stories that had a positive influence on their lives.
11) Create a calm, loving, anger-free atmosphere in your home. Consistently speak in a calm and loving tone of voice. See, hear, and feel yourself being a calm person who has mastered the ability to maintain an emotional and mental state that is centered, focused and flowing.
12) Master patience. Life is a seminar in character development. Your children are your partners in helping you become a more patient person. Even when challenges arise, speak in a tone of voice that is balanced.
13) If you make a mistake when interacting with your children, apologize. Ultimately they will respect you more than if you try to deny the mistake.
14) Watch other parents interact with their children. Notice what you like. Apply the positive patterns.
15) In watching other parents, also notice what you don't like. Think about ways that you might be doing the same. Resolve not to speak and act that way.
16) Keep asking people you know and meet, "What did you like about what your parents said and did?"
17) Every day, express gratitude in front of your children. Ask them regularly, "What are you grateful for?"
18) Become a master at evaluating events, situations and occurrences in a realistic positive way. Frequently ask your children, "What would be a positive way of looking at this?", or "How can we grow from this?"
19) When your children make mistakes, help them learn from those mistakes.
20) Each and every day, ask yourself, "What can I say and do to be an even better parent?"
Rabbi Zelig Pliskin has these wise words to share. I read them, they make sense, and they are a wonderful road map to follow when parenting. I'm on that road, and am still trying to be the best navigator I can be.
Here is the road map to keep in your glove box:
1) Love your children unconditionally -- irrespective of whether they "behave nicely," clean up their room, and do their homework. Your love must go beyond this. Your children will feel it.
2) Each day tell your children that you love them. All you have to say is three words, "I love you." If this is difficult for you, that is a sign you really need to say it.
3) Speak and act in ways that gives your children a positive self-image. Believe in your child. Believe in his abilities and potential. Say explicitly, "I believe in you." How do you know when you are successful at this? When your child says, "I see that you believe in me."
4) Be a role model for the traits and qualities that you want your children to possess. Share your day with your kids so they know what you do and can learn from you and your experiences.
5) Clarify the main positive qualities you want your child to develop. Keep praising those qualities. Reinforce each quality when your child speaks or acts in ways consistent with that quality.
6) Each child is unique and different. Understand each child's uniqueness and take it into consideration when a challenge arises. Don't take the "cookie cutter" approach. A method of disciple that inspires one child may discourage another.
7) Word your comments positively. Focus on the outcome you want. Say: "By developing this quality (for example, taking action right away), you will be more successful in life." (Rather than saying the negative.)
8) Keep asking yourself, What is the wisest thing to say to my child right now? Especially say this when your child has messed up.
9) Read great books to your children.
10) When you come across a story that has an important positive lesson for your child, relate it. Look for stories that teach lessons. Ask people for stories that had a positive influence on their lives.
11) Create a calm, loving, anger-free atmosphere in your home. Consistently speak in a calm and loving tone of voice. See, hear, and feel yourself being a calm person who has mastered the ability to maintain an emotional and mental state that is centered, focused and flowing.
12) Master patience. Life is a seminar in character development. Your children are your partners in helping you become a more patient person. Even when challenges arise, speak in a tone of voice that is balanced.
13) If you make a mistake when interacting with your children, apologize. Ultimately they will respect you more than if you try to deny the mistake.
14) Watch other parents interact with their children. Notice what you like. Apply the positive patterns.
15) In watching other parents, also notice what you don't like. Think about ways that you might be doing the same. Resolve not to speak and act that way.
16) Keep asking people you know and meet, "What did you like about what your parents said and did?"
17) Every day, express gratitude in front of your children. Ask them regularly, "What are you grateful for?"
18) Become a master at evaluating events, situations and occurrences in a realistic positive way. Frequently ask your children, "What would be a positive way of looking at this?", or "How can we grow from this?"
19) When your children make mistakes, help them learn from those mistakes.
20) Each and every day, ask yourself, "What can I say and do to be an even better parent?"
You Don't Bring Me Flowers...Anymore
Gerolsteiner
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I like this name. Gerolsteiner. Gerol-steiner. Ger-ol-steiner.
It is the name of a mineral water from Germany. I'd never before heard of it, but made its acquaintance this past summer at a Shabbos table. The host kept saying, "Could you please pass the Gerolsteiner?"
I decided this mineral water deserved a taste test. I tasted it. It was not really different than any other designer water I've had...in spite of its label. And that label kept reminding me of something, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Until... The host asked again, "Could you please pass the Gerolsteiner?"
Then one of his guests reached for the bottle and said, "Ohhhh, you mean the 'Nazi vasser.' "
I like this name. Gerolsteiner. Gerol-steiner. Ger-ol-steiner.
It is the name of a mineral water from Germany. I'd never before heard of it, but made its acquaintance this past summer at a Shabbos table. The host kept saying, "Could you please pass the Gerolsteiner?"
I decided this mineral water deserved a taste test. I tasted it. It was not really different than any other designer water I've had...in spite of its label. And that label kept reminding me of something, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Until... The host asked again, "Could you please pass the Gerolsteiner?"
Then one of his guests reached for the bottle and said, "Ohhhh, you mean the 'Nazi vasser.' "
Keeping Up with the Cohens*
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* For the sake of this post, it has been determined that my last name is COHEN.
I mentioned at some point, long ago in my blogging history, that I resisted moving to this area of the city we live in because I don't believe in "keeping up with the Cohens" (years ago, I came up with a list of imaginary Jewish TV shows; that was the name of a sit-com I'd conjured up). It is common knowledge in this community that money talks -- in a school setting, in a shul setting, in a social setting. Children are being raised with fewer values and more materialism on the brain, and frankly, it disgusts me. Our children understand the value of a dollar and understand that we might look to be like everyone else but we're not and prefer not to be.
We have some friends -- they used to be friends in our old neighborhood, preceeded us to the new neighborhood -- or rather, they're only acquaintances now, but used to be friends. In spite of our proximity to them geographically, and the fact that our sons are good friends, we're grown distant.
It appears to my husband and I that these people have issues of envy/jealousy. (perhaps not the wife, but certainly the husband) We bought a FoozeBall table, they soon had one. We bought a new van 'cause we needed one, they saw it, made a comment and had a new van shortly after. They found out that my son was taking an extra-curricular course; they had to sign their son up too. I mentioned that I had been in L.A. and we were then going at the end of that June week to Florida's Universal Studios, and immediately the husband said "Yeah, we're probably going away too." My husband, who has seen this "copycat" pattern, piped up, "Does your wife know?" Well, they just came back from a week in L.A. and Universal Studios there.
Their son is a spitting image of his father. When I drove him to school this past year for a few months, he'd get into the car, not say hello to my son or I, but immediately pipe up: "My dad is gonna get me..." or "My dad bought me..." I cannot stand braggarts, even if they're young kids. I was thankful that my son never reacted positively to his friend; he knows bragging is the wrong thing to do, and I'm thankful that my children don't do that. They also understand financial limitations are financial limitations, and they don't need to have all the same things that some of their friends have.
It is not just mere coincidence that these people ended up with things that we had or did. They saw these things; they wanted these things, too; they bought or did these things. Once upon a time, the husband asked my husband his salary: that spoke volumes...especially when my husband told him it's none of his business.
Not too long ago, my husband sarcastically told that guy, "We're gonna buy a boat...are you planning on buying one, too?" Of course we're not buying a boat, but I'm pretty sure that if they did see a boat trailing our van, that family would soon be setting sail, as well.
There is a wonderful children's book by Canadian children's author, Robert Munsch. It's called "Stephanie's Ponytail" and is about Stephanie who wears her ponytail differently each day. The kids at school call out "Ugly, ugly...very ugly." But of course, the next day, they're wearing their hair exactly as Stephanie wore it the day before. This pattern repeats and then one day Stephanie announces, "When I come to school tomorrow, I'll have shaved off my hair!" And the next day, she comes to school, ponytail intact, while everyone else has indeed shaved off their hair.
Keeping up with the Cohens... indeed a tough act to follow!
* For the sake of this post, it has been determined that my last name is COHEN.
I mentioned at some point, long ago in my blogging history, that I resisted moving to this area of the city we live in because I don't believe in "keeping up with the Cohens" (years ago, I came up with a list of imaginary Jewish TV shows; that was the name of a sit-com I'd conjured up). It is common knowledge in this community that money talks -- in a school setting, in a shul setting, in a social setting. Children are being raised with fewer values and more materialism on the brain, and frankly, it disgusts me. Our children understand the value of a dollar and understand that we might look to be like everyone else but we're not and prefer not to be.
We have some friends -- they used to be friends in our old neighborhood, preceeded us to the new neighborhood -- or rather, they're only acquaintances now, but used to be friends. In spite of our proximity to them geographically, and the fact that our sons are good friends, we're grown distant.
It appears to my husband and I that these people have issues of envy/jealousy. (perhaps not the wife, but certainly the husband) We bought a FoozeBall table, they soon had one. We bought a new van 'cause we needed one, they saw it, made a comment and had a new van shortly after. They found out that my son was taking an extra-curricular course; they had to sign their son up too. I mentioned that I had been in L.A. and we were then going at the end of that June week to Florida's Universal Studios, and immediately the husband said "Yeah, we're probably going away too." My husband, who has seen this "copycat" pattern, piped up, "Does your wife know?" Well, they just came back from a week in L.A. and Universal Studios there.
Their son is a spitting image of his father. When I drove him to school this past year for a few months, he'd get into the car, not say hello to my son or I, but immediately pipe up: "My dad is gonna get me..." or "My dad bought me..." I cannot stand braggarts, even if they're young kids. I was thankful that my son never reacted positively to his friend; he knows bragging is the wrong thing to do, and I'm thankful that my children don't do that. They also understand financial limitations are financial limitations, and they don't need to have all the same things that some of their friends have.
It is not just mere coincidence that these people ended up with things that we had or did. They saw these things; they wanted these things, too; they bought or did these things. Once upon a time, the husband asked my husband his salary: that spoke volumes...especially when my husband told him it's none of his business.
Not too long ago, my husband sarcastically told that guy, "We're gonna buy a boat...are you planning on buying one, too?" Of course we're not buying a boat, but I'm pretty sure that if they did see a boat trailing our van, that family would soon be setting sail, as well.
There is a wonderful children's book by Canadian children's author, Robert Munsch. It's called "Stephanie's Ponytail" and is about Stephanie who wears her ponytail differently each day. The kids at school call out "Ugly, ugly...very ugly." But of course, the next day, they're wearing their hair exactly as Stephanie wore it the day before. This pattern repeats and then one day Stephanie announces, "When I come to school tomorrow, I'll have shaved off my hair!" And the next day, she comes to school, ponytail intact, while everyone else has indeed shaved off their hair.
Keeping up with the Cohens... indeed a tough act to follow!
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Musically Tagged
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I've been tagged for this, but don't worry, I won't tag anyone else...not everyone, I understand, appreciates these things.
Here's my mission:
The Rules: List five songs that you are currently digging - it doesn't matter what genre they are from, whether they have words, or even if they're not any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying right now. Post these instructions and the five songs (with artist) in your blog. Then tag five people to see what they're listening to.
1. This song has been running through my head constantly for about 3 weeks...the chorus is just that catchy.
Breathe (2 a.m.) by Anna Nalick.
2. I heard this last week while driving, turned the car radio up full blast, and reminisced about the eighties.
Bad Girls by Donna Summer.
3. Any Ella Fitzgerald/Louis Armstrong duet
4. Hotel California by the Eagles
5. Since seeing Madagascar with the family in June, I can't get this soundtrack song out of my head: "I like to move it, move it, you like to move it, move it..."
Okay... and there are my 5 songs.
I've been tagged for this, but don't worry, I won't tag anyone else...not everyone, I understand, appreciates these things.
Here's my mission:
The Rules: List five songs that you are currently digging - it doesn't matter what genre they are from, whether they have words, or even if they're not any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying right now. Post these instructions and the five songs (with artist) in your blog. Then tag five people to see what they're listening to.
1. This song has been running through my head constantly for about 3 weeks...the chorus is just that catchy.
Breathe (2 a.m.) by Anna Nalick.
2. I heard this last week while driving, turned the car radio up full blast, and reminisced about the eighties.
Bad Girls by Donna Summer.
3. Any Ella Fitzgerald/Louis Armstrong duet
4. Hotel California by the Eagles
5. Since seeing Madagascar with the family in June, I can't get this soundtrack song out of my head: "I like to move it, move it, you like to move it, move it..."
Okay... and there are my 5 songs.
Stop Interfering in My Life!
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I just wanted a catchy title to pull you in. This post has absolutely nothing to do with that title, but now that you're here, why not stay for the rest of the show. Turn up the volume on your computer speaker and listen to "Sounds of Silence" by Simon & Garfunkel.
This brief post is just about one of my observations about blogging (again?) and commenting (again?). I have noticed that one never knows which posts will incite a mad rush of comments and which won't. As I peruse my favorite blogs, I see great posts that receive nada, zip, "efes" (zero) comments, and I wonder why. Then I read other posts that, like much of Seinfeld's routine, are about "nothing" -- and 30 comments follow.
Apparently there is sometimes absolutely no rhyme nor reason as to why certain posts get comments while others don't.
Someone I know has nearly 45 (at last count) comments on a very powerful post. That is the number of online comments; he told me he has over 100 post-related comments to read and respond to. Apparently that particular post struck a match in peoples' psyche, and very clearly that subject matter deserves not just a post, but a BLOG, of its own.
I've looked to my own blog to see if there's any kind of trend when I might get more comments than others.
Here's what I've figured out: 1.) when I do a lot of name dropping of fellow bloggers with links to their blogs, and 2) when I question out loud whether or not I should continue blogging. That's when the comments come.
Guess what: I QUIT THE BLOGGING LIFE!
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*
*
*
*
*
*
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(I'M WAITING..... tap, tap, tapping my foot!)
I just wanted a catchy title to pull you in. This post has absolutely nothing to do with that title, but now that you're here, why not stay for the rest of the show. Turn up the volume on your computer speaker and listen to "Sounds of Silence" by Simon & Garfunkel.
This brief post is just about one of my observations about blogging (again?) and commenting (again?). I have noticed that one never knows which posts will incite a mad rush of comments and which won't. As I peruse my favorite blogs, I see great posts that receive nada, zip, "efes" (zero) comments, and I wonder why. Then I read other posts that, like much of Seinfeld's routine, are about "nothing" -- and 30 comments follow.
Apparently there is sometimes absolutely no rhyme nor reason as to why certain posts get comments while others don't.
Someone I know has nearly 45 (at last count) comments on a very powerful post. That is the number of online comments; he told me he has over 100 post-related comments to read and respond to. Apparently that particular post struck a match in peoples' psyche, and very clearly that subject matter deserves not just a post, but a BLOG, of its own.
I've looked to my own blog to see if there's any kind of trend when I might get more comments than others.
Here's what I've figured out: 1.) when I do a lot of name dropping of fellow bloggers with links to their blogs, and 2) when I question out loud whether or not I should continue blogging. That's when the comments come.
Guess what: I QUIT THE BLOGGING LIFE!
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*
*
*
*
*
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*
(I'M WAITING..... tap, tap, tapping my foot!)
A Colorful World
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This was sent to me this morning. It is a beautiful piece that I wanted to share with all of you.
Keep smiling, and stay colorful.
http://www.spiritisup.com/colors1.swf'
This was sent to me this morning. It is a beautiful piece that I wanted to share with all of you.
Keep smiling, and stay colorful.
http://www.spiritisup.com/colors1.swf'
Yiddish, Yuddish and Yoodish
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When I was a kid, and I'd ask my father, "Are you speaking German or Yiddish?" he'd always answer, "I'm speaking Yiddish, Yuddish and Yoodish."
I never learned Yiddish formally but often heard my dad speak it with family and friends; I heard my mother and father speak German, too, between themselves and sometimes I was able to differentiate between the two languages...usually based on the accompanying body language.
My ear tuned itself to the language and if given the opportunity, I'd sometimes throw around a sentence or two.
Although some might think Yiddish to be guttural and archaic, I've always loved hearing the "mamaloshen", whether it was a Litvischer Yiddish or a Polnyisher Yiddish. The language embodies so much of Ashkenazic Jewish cultural history and has a richness all its own that transcends time.
I was recently asked about my knowledge of Yiddish because a business contact of mine knows of a freelance copy editing job -- work on a humorous book featuring Yiddish curses and expressions. Oh, that would be a great and fun challenge for me. And think of all the new curses I might come away with and be able to embody in a post or two...
So if I get this gig, great! If I don't, it's "nisht geferlech." (not the worst)
In the meantime, everyone, "zei gesundt!" (be well/healthy!)
When I was a kid, and I'd ask my father, "Are you speaking German or Yiddish?" he'd always answer, "I'm speaking Yiddish, Yuddish and Yoodish."
I never learned Yiddish formally but often heard my dad speak it with family and friends; I heard my mother and father speak German, too, between themselves and sometimes I was able to differentiate between the two languages...usually based on the accompanying body language.
My ear tuned itself to the language and if given the opportunity, I'd sometimes throw around a sentence or two.
Although some might think Yiddish to be guttural and archaic, I've always loved hearing the "mamaloshen", whether it was a Litvischer Yiddish or a Polnyisher Yiddish. The language embodies so much of Ashkenazic Jewish cultural history and has a richness all its own that transcends time.
I was recently asked about my knowledge of Yiddish because a business contact of mine knows of a freelance copy editing job -- work on a humorous book featuring Yiddish curses and expressions. Oh, that would be a great and fun challenge for me. And think of all the new curses I might come away with and be able to embody in a post or two...
So if I get this gig, great! If I don't, it's "nisht geferlech." (not the worst)
In the meantime, everyone, "zei gesundt!" (be well/healthy!)
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