Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Has anyone seen my see-phone?

Sharp-eyed readers noticed we stated previously that we received "most" of our faucet order. And these sharp-eyed readers have been asking, nay, pleading with me to find out what happened to the rest of it. (Well, that is technically a lie, but I'm sure inside, they were asking).

Loyal Readers, you should sit down for this. If you are currently drinking shoko b'sakit, I recommend pinching the open end lest you squeeze the contents all over your room. If you are not currently drinking shoko b'sakit, may I ask why not?

Anyway, this will come as a GINORMOUS shock to you, but....we are still missing those last items.

But it's okay, I called my good friend Rena over at Faucets Certainly 'Rn't Us. She said she was going to take care of it and call me back.

Which we all know means...

[all together now, in a sing-song voice]

"I will no-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-t take care of this. And I will certainly not call youuuuuuuuuuuuuu baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!"

So we wait. She promises it will only be another day or two. And we all know what that means.

Monday, February 27, 2012

New Apartment Report: 10 Days In

1. Nadav has been enjoying my new bed, frequently and for long periods of time.

2. I have not been enjoying my new bed. (See: #1)

3. My kitchen works! This took no less than 5 different installers, but we are up and running. I am back to cooking my exquisite delicacies, including pita pizzas and macaroni and cheese.

4. Things people want: our packing boxes and American coffeemaker. Things people don't want: our old beds.

5. We were able to clear off the layer of grime that covered our floors in time for Shabbat. Still, I don't recommend walking around here barefoot.

6. We excavated our countertops.

7. We have LOTS of technology. Including a Kinect. Forget the cable party at Momz and Dadz, you're all invited HERE to play Rushing River Rapids (or something; I have no idea how to play--you'll have to ask Ariella and Yaakov.)

8. We moved with a lot of garbage. See, we had the movers pack us. And movers are not emotionally connected to our stuff like we are. So instead of long, intricate discussions on whether this book should be an "apartment book" or a "machsan book," they just shoved things in boxes and labeled it with the name of whatever room it was in. And if there was a random, smudgy paper towel on top of the puzzle box? Pack it! Or an old, empty medicine container? Throw it in!

9. Momz and I had to venture into Givat Shaul today. I was the driver; she was the navigator. Momz and I trying to figure out Jerusalem...well, imagine two amoebas trying to fix the space shuttle. But, in the end, we did manage to find  the place, (I guess if you give even amoebas enough time, they'll figure something out), then find the car (bumping into each other in the parking lot as we were each positive the car was in that direction), then find our way back home! Oh glorious Modiin!

10. Because a list that ends with "9" is so sad.

Monday, February 20, 2012

In Which I Regale You (It's Okay, I Asked Your Permission First)

Hello Loyal Readers.

We have (more or less successfully) moved. Or, as my Heblish-speaking children like to say, "moved a house."

There are so many stories I could regale you with.

Like how I had to track down my faucets and see-phone (it is a Hebrew word; I am not even sure what it means in English, only that is it VERY important to the usability of the sink). How I drove to the store/factory where they were holding my faucets hostage and got my Israeli on and plopped myself down in front of a (thankfully helpful) lady and refused to leave until I had either my faucets or my money, and the Nice Lady called everyone involved in the production/sale/distribution of my faucets, and they all engaged in an intense back-and-forth game of Zeh Lo Kashur Ay-lie (it was like watching pro table tennis, only with my ability to shower at stake) until FINALLY I got the private cell phone ("Don't tell anyone I gave this to you!") of the person who actually had the ability to deliver said faucets, who promised they would be delivered tomorrow, and then tomorrow came and they called to schedule a delivery time for tomorrow (uh, no, today), to my apartment in Nes Ziona (I live in Modiin).

Anyway, the end of the story is that we did indeed receive most of what we had bought and paid for! It's a kablanic miracle!

Well, Donny has just returned with food (we can't cook because even though our oven is hooked up, it is not connected to actual gas), so the regaling shall continue at a later date.

Friday, February 10, 2012

MorningPalooza, Continued

On the next episode of The Real HouseTantrums of Modiin:

Yaakov, 5 3/4 years old, perfectly capable of getting dressed himself. But would rather be playing with cars and/or sucking his thumb on the couch. (Why cars now? Why not cars later when I'm begging, pleading with you to find a way to entertain yourself that doesn't involve a movie or kicking Ariella? Whywhywhy???) So I get him dressed, we have the daily fight about wearing tzitzit, then once he's ready - dressedteethlunchwater - he has to use the bathroom, so off come the tzitzit.

Ariella, 8.5 years old, perfectly capable of getting herself ready, which she does verrrrrry sloooowwwwllly. There are usually a few minutes of stretching involved, or adding something to her private-written-in-code note that's next to her bed (although she helpfully wrote herself a key on the page to decode what she wrote, so every time I'm in there I glance over casually trying to figure out what it says). My favorite line (not written in code) is where she explains to herself that she didn't include all the letters in the code, only the ones she used in her note.

We have different views on the stretching + note writing. On a scale of 1 - 10, where 1 is Essential Morning Activity and 10 is Waste of Time Oh My God How Are You Still Not Dressed...well, you can figure out where we each fall.

Then there is the hair, which she spends a long time on so it won't have a "baluta" (bump.) Although it frustrates me, I do sympathize, having gone through a phase myself where I spent a while trying to get my bangs into a bump. There was gel involved. Yes, you read that right.

Nadav, 1.5 years old, perfectly capable of. Well, I'm sure there's something. Getting him dressed usually requires a SWAT team to hold him down, because he's VERY MAD that I interrupted his leisurely breakfast, and he lets me know by trying to throw himself off the changing table. He also often refuses to wear any sort of sweatshirt/jacket, which horrifies his ganenot to no end.

Eventually, everyone is ready, Ariella with her ginormous tik, Yaakov with his little tik, and Nadav clutching two or three sippy cups to add to his overflowing collection at gan. Maybe he's planning to make a break for it one day, to a place where they let you eat Cheerios all day, and he wants to make sure he has enough to drink. We make our way down to the bowels of the Dimri parking lot, Yaakov races no one to the car and shouts "I won!", I turn on the car, look at the time, and mutter to myself how I can't believe we're so late.

You'd think at this point I'd just believe it already.

Monday, February 6, 2012

The Best Part of Waking Up Is....?

I love mornings.

I looooove them.

See, if I believe mornings are fun, I'll have something to look forward to when I wake up. Aside from, "When can I go back to sleep?"

Scene: Entering kids' room to wake them up

Ariella: UNNHHHHH!!! Grumble, grumble. (This is because she went to bed too late the night before.)

Flashback to....the night before:

Ariella, go to sleep.
But I want to just finish the chapter!
[I get deeply involved in an important article on This is what Ariella is counting on. While I while away the time doing a lot of nothingness, she finishes her current chapter and starts a new one.]
[Realizing it's about 30 minutes after my last "Go to sleep" directive. Also, I've read all the articles related to TV shows I care about.]
Ariella, go to SLEEP!
But you said I could finish the chapter!
Oh. I did. Okay. But no more after this!
[Back to Facebook.]
[Ariella has finished her entire book and is now midway through "aleph" in the dictionary.]
Ariella! GO TO SLEEP!
Can't I just finish aleph?

Anyway....the next morning...

Ariella: UNNHHHHH!
Yaakov: Umph, mmmm (buries deeper into blankets)
Nadav: Yippeeeee!!!!!!!!!! Breakfast time!

Eventually, I hustle everyone into the kitchen for food, with the daily litany of threats that have become part of our morning routine. "If you don't get out of bed now, you won't be allowed to eat breakfast in pajamas!" and "If you don't get out of bed now you'll just have to eat cereal in a bag! No milk!"

Then there are a few peaceful moments, with everyone happily munching away on their cereal, bowl after bowl, Nadav getting into scientist mode and dumping his cereal from his bowl into his cup, back into his bowl, onto his pajamas, and then, to the ultimate destination of anything Nadav eats, all over my floor. Nothing gets me going in the morning like cleaning up soggy Cheerios and milk from the floor! Except maybe finding a clump of damp ones stuck to his pjs later. Good times!

One by one, the children finish breakfast. Yaakov usually finishes first, since Nadav and Ariella can eat their weight in Honey Nut Cheerios. Actually, Nadav can eat his and Ariella's weight in HNC.

Now, the fun really gets going! Stay tuned for Part II of Morningpalooza: Getting Dressed; Or, Debates About Underwear I'd Rather Not Have

Friday, February 3, 2012


That's right. It's me, Nadav, and I am tired!

See, I start off most nights in my crib. With a hard mattress. A hard mattress that wasn't even picked out with my lovable self in mind. No, this crib was chosen before I even came along, when my parents were still trying to figure out how to have the perfect baby. (Only took them 3 tries. Not bad.)

What I'm saying is, this mattress is old. And it's been through stuff, if you know what I mean. Pee, spit-up, and, well, there was this one time when Ariella was a baby and Mommy put her in her crib, naked, for a few minutes, and in that few minutes...let's just say we'll file it under, "Pee and Spit-Up, Things That Are Grosser Than."

So occasionally, I wake up in the middle of night, probably from a bad dream ("I'm sitting in my highchair, throwing my spoon on the floor, and no one is there to pick it up! AHHHH!") And I cry. Predictably, Mommy comes rushing in, all bleary-eyed, and gets me. Win!

I try to go for the gold--Breakfast! I point to the living room, then to my highchair, grunting my sweet grunts all the while. Mommy tries to explain to me that it is the middle of the night, it is dark, and we do not eat breakfast now. Uh, lady, I know all about electricity. Flip on one of those lights and BAM! Instant morning!

Usually, however, I am unsuccessful in getting breakfast. Not that it stops me from trying, though. So then we end up together in Mommy's bed. I fall asleep on her, and then she unceremoniously dumps me off her. But it's okay. Mommy's bed is big and soft and comfy.

So here's the part she doesn't understand. Her job is done. I'm in her bed. She can go now. But she doesn't. She tosses and turns and uses this big heavy unnecessary blanket. Hello! Footy pajamas! Never need a blanket! Sheesh.

And the bed is kind of crowded, what with her, and her blanket, and her pillow, and her wads of tissues. And then, I try to move from a vertical to a horizontal position, like any normal person, and my foot ends up in her nose! Or, I engage in some hand flinging, and a finger ends up in her eye! Ewww! She should just leave me to my sleeping and go check Facebook or something, which she does all the time while I'm awake, so why not also when I'm asleep?

But don't worry too much about me. Because even though I have a rough nights, there's always the luxurious mid-day nap to make up for it all. [Ed. note: For a while now, been trying to get someone to say to me, on a Friday afternoon, "I need you to go take a nap now so I can get ready for Shabbat." Hasn't happened.]