A Little Phlogging

(Phlog = photo blog. No Loyal Readers were harmed during the production of this blog.)

Here are some things we've been up to in the past month. Think of it like ramblings, but with pictures!

Exhibit A

I have now done 3 things for Pesach:
1. Bought oven cleaner
2. Took picture of oven cleaner
3. Blogged about taking picture of oven cleaner

Exhibit Bet

Nadav writes his own "petek ma'aseh tov." You know, the little "mitzvah notes," as we used to call them. He loves bringing a petek into gan; I've tried explaining that you need to do a ma'aseh tov first in order for me to write about it. So this past Saturday night, he saw a lone notepaper on the floor. He ran to it, shouting "Petek sheli!" Then turned it over to find it was empty. Huh, he thought, seems like Mommy is really falling down on the job. No problem; he just wrote it himself.

Exhibit 3

The POCs live! This is (one of the many, many) reasons why when people show up unexpectedly, I want to cry. (Another reason: Underwear on the floor. Another reason: Mt. Laundry. Another reason: Bags of groceries in the middle of the room. I could go on. But I think I've created a vivid enough image for you.)

Exhibit IV

Here is a random picture of my skirt that I took by accident. Yes, that is my grey-leggings-covered knee. Don't tell my old principal.

Exhibit Five

Sigh. Tzitzit. And boys. Who thought this was a good combination???? This picture doesn't do it justice, but let assure you, the tzitzit are gross. Washing them is a pain. (Both of which also apply to boys.) If girls got the tzitzit, we would take good  care of them. They'd come in pretty rainbow colors and we'd braid the fringes. And then we'd collect Tzitzit Charms and trade them with each other during recess. Instead, we bequeath tzitzit upon our sons and just decide we're not going to ask where that stain came from. (Disclaimer: Before you go all PC on me and tell me about your neat boys and messy girls, let me assure you that I am perfectly aware of my generalization/stereotyping. And I am okay with it.)

And finally ...

Every once in a while, this happens: The Power Rangers take care of vigil for me. (Though not often enough; you'd think, what with their Mega-Zords, they could manage to find a way to put a little 2.5 year old to sleep. Let this be a lesson, kids: Mommy is the Ultimate Power Ranger.)