I've Done So Much for Pesach Already!

Read it and weep, ladies. And then save those buckets of tears cuz I'm coming over with celery. (That was trash-talk, Pesach style).

What I've Done So Far:

Thought: Hmmm, Pesach is coming.

Confirmed our Seder guests. (Two of Ariella's favorite aunts - Aunt Gitte and Aunt Talia, plus Uncle Jonathan, who Ariella will begrudgingly allow to come because Aunt Talia doesn't like leaving him alone for the holidays).

Imagined Pesach preparations. In my mind's eye, I saw myself cleaning the kitchen, vacuuming the toy boxes and buying the food. Perfect.

Opened my old Pesach lists. Note: This was not as easy as it sounds! My files were still on my old cmputer, necessitating me to:
1. Find the old computer
2. Find the power cord that matches the old computer
3. Turn on the old computer
4. Realize this is actually the old old computer which does not have my files on it
5. Find the newer old computer (NOC)
6. Find the power cord that matches NOC
7. Turn on NOC
8. Panic because NOC immediately switches to a blank, black screen, with only a non-blinking white cursor line in the upper lefthand corner.
9. Immediately text and then follow up with an urgent call to Donny to solve my problem.
10. Harumph that his only advice is "I dunno, wait a little bit, maybe it needs to charge first for a while."
11. Feel grumbly and enter DPM (deep panic mode) when I envision to make a Pesach sans list.
12. Feel sheepish when it turns out Donny was right. After about a half hour of being plugged it, NOC opened smoothly.
13. Found the files and uploaded them to SkyDrive.
14. Returned to regular "new" computer and printed Shopping List.
15. Perused my master Pesach list of our "haves and have-notes" and breathed a sigh of relief that after 14 years of making Pesach and spending thousands of dollars/shekel, the biggest thing we need this year is another milk bag container.

Pictured cooking the food. The mind's eye is an efficient and productive place.

Tomorrow: We (Read: I) actually buy some food. Mainly to satisfy Nadav's Four Questions: When will you buy things for Pesach, Ima? (Repeat three more times).

A Funny Thing(s) Happened on the Way To Doing Homework

Almost every day, my children have homework. So you'd think it would come as no surprise when they return home from school with, you know, homework. You'd think they would be used to it. And yet. Every single time, homework is accompanied by severe bouts of moaning and kvetching, as if they walked into school completely unsuspecting, innocent children, and out of nowhere, HOMEWORK was hurled at them. So each day Doing Homework requires dramatics reminiscent of a prisoner on death row. Or of bath night.

Here's how the homework routine goes:

1. Complain
2. Negotiate for pre-homework TV time
3. Cry
4. Check email on way to getting pencil
5. Pencil is dull. Sharpen pencil.
6. Notice cows have returned to the hills across from our house
7. Go outside to moo at cows
8. Lie on floor
9. Use the bathroom
10. Check Webtop (class website)
11. Complain, louder
12. Cry, with tears
13. Lie in bed
14. Lie on couch
15. Ask for a pre-homework treat
16. Eat treat
17. Ask for a during-homework treat
18. Wash hands because treat made hands sticky/crumby/chocolatey
19. Whine
20. Moan, dramatically
21. Ask what's for dinner
22. Ask when we are having [insert favorite food] for dinner
23. Take out more pencils
24. Drop pencils on floor, breaking tips
25. Sharpen new pencil
26. Notice scratch on the wall
27. Become engrossed in toy/lint/piece of dirt
28. Wail about the unfairness of life in general, and homework assignments in particular
29. Sigh that Nadav is SO LUCKY that he doesn't have homework; ignore Mommy's repeated reminders that when you were 3.5, you also didn't have homework, and when Nadav is in school, he will
30. Sigh and finally take out books
31. Do homework

Note: The time it takes to do #1-30 is about 40,000x the amount of time it takes to do #31.

A Thing is a-Coming

Fellow moms (and yes, I am addressing this post to the moms, because this is my blog and I'll stereotype if I want to), next Shabbat is one of Those weeks. You know the ones I'm talking about. It's one of the Get Your Kids to Shul on Time Definitely Not Too Late But Also Not Too Early for [a Thing.]

There are generally 4 categories of "a Thing":

1. Shofar blowing on Rosh Hashana

2. Listening to Parshat Zachor 

3. Kol Hanearim. While you've got wiggle room if you want to make it for hakafot (there are seven of the dang things, after all), you've got to time your shul-going just right to make it for all-the-kids-under-the-tallit-sniff-sniff kol hanearim. Which is after ... hakafah #7? (Why do I never remember?????) And woe unto you if you get to shul and hear, "Ad kan hakafah gimmel! Gimmel!" You've got a long way to go, baby. (And Daddy's shoulders can only handle about half a hakafah these days.)

3. Miscellaneous - including but not limited to: Hearing your son do A'anim Zemirot, (especially when the shul does it in the middle of davening and not at the end, very tricky) and candy throwing for bar mitzvah/Shabbat Chatan (especially when you are the ones BRINGING the candy and you start walking down the train tracks on Emek Refaim to get to Uncle Jonathan's shul and you realize 10 minutes in that you are walking the WRONG WAY down the tracks, and when you announce that fact in a shrieky sort of way, your daughter says, mildly, "Yeah, I thought we were, but I figured you knew what you were doing." I mean, sheesh, after 10.5 years of parenting, shouldn't she know by now that Mommy never knows what she's doing? Especially if it involves hairdos, conjugating numbers and directions?)

Anyway, the point is, you have to get to shul, and you certainly don't want to miss the Thing, but if you get there too early, you run the risk of blowing through all of your candy/toy cars/crackers/arm muscles during the Boring Pre-Thing Things (aka "prayer") and then during the actual Thing you have a kvetchy, bored, suddenly very LOUD child on your hands. And you wonder, once again, why no one has invented Shabbat-friendly Mind-Texting so your husband can alert you from shul. (You've got Mind Mail! "Almost at end of layning. Come now.") Or maybe a shul crier. (No, not my 3 year old). You know, someone who stands on the rooftop announcing loudly what they're up to inside.

Just this past week, Nadav and I tried to go to shul for his favorite part: the end. My heart sank as I walked in and through the looking glass saw everyone inside seated. Because you know what seated means. Seated means speech, which means it is a good - I mean bad - chunk of time before shul is over.

Anyway. So as for me, well, I'm just gearing up for this week's Thing. My bags are packed, my arms are ripped. Wish me luck and the magic of perfect timing. And if you are working on Mind Mail - hurry the heck up!!!