Nanny's necklace

Not only is Z's first necklace (random Mardi Gras beads excepted) a family heirloom, it came from my mom to her in its original 1950's box along with a note describing how Nanny wore it when she was about Z's age.


And thanks to my mom's dedicated scanning of old photos, I have this picture of my mom with my grandparents at about age 5. Check out the hot pants on Grandma Lorraine!

A little family resemblance

My 89-year-old great aunt was in town for my bat mitzvah this past weekend and her first reaction upon seeing A was "She looks just like me as a child." Do you see a resemblance?

West Chester, PA: The highlights

We flew Southwest to West Chester Saturday morning, arriving in time for lunch (with milkshakes!) at Ruby's Diner, conveniently located in the upscale strip mall 1 mile from my in-laws' house. [And can I mention here that they bought coordinating hot pink car seats for the kids so that we didn't have to lug them along? Such a luxury!]

While A napped, my MIL took me and Z to the local mall ("It's in Delaware, a different state!" Z exclaimed) for new shoes. Although the old-school children's shoe boat Shirley wanted to take us to was shuttered for good, we found a ghetto fabulous Kids Foot Locker selling Converse sneakers, which was what we wanted anyway. Z picked out these cool kicks and Shirley wisely bought A a matching pair.

On Sunday Josh and I left the girls with their grandparents and caught a matinee of Hot Tub Time Machine, which is as dumb as it sounds, but I still enjoyed it. [Incidentally, my favorite joke was from one of the previews, when a send up of McGyver confesses to leaving an "upper decker" in the captain's quarters. An upper-decker being a shit in the toilet tank, not the bowl. Yes, I have the world's most juvenile sense of humor. Tears are spilling down my cheeks as I type this.]

Ahem. After the movie, we took Z and A off Shirley and Joel's hands for a little while, driving to a nearby playground. (You can't walk to anything from their place.) It was cool, damp and windy, but the kids had a blast anyway.

On Monday Shirley had a ton of cooking to do for the seder, so Josh and I drove the girls into the city (the long, long way thanks to screwy GPS directions) to meet his high school friend Erica and 2 of her 3 kids at the amazing Please Touch museum. Thank you to all my Twitter followers who recommended it, it was as great as you promised. So appealing to kids, in fact, that we lost our wandering 2 year old twice. (Both times I found her within 5 minutes, hanging out with a uniformed employee.)

Finally, late Monday afternoon, people started arriving for the Passover seder. Josh's aunt and uncle, his dad's cousin and her husband and his cousin and her family were all in attendance, but the only cousins who counted to Z and A were the two other kids, 6 year old Daniel and 4 year old Jessica. Aside from A, who missed her nap, the kids were fairly well behaved. A and Z wouldn't eat matzo, parsley or maror, but they did dig into the matzo ball soup with gusto.

Dinner conversation was a little too politically charged for my taste (although it might have been made more pleasant had we be drinking something other than sweet Manischewitz). I always forget that my father-in-law, his brother and his brother's wife are really right of center, so I found myself defending health care reform and mocking birthers and tea party haters to people who responded with "I don't personally know anyone who doesn't have health insurance" and "If Obama's birth certificate is authentic, why was there any question about it's authenticity?" Yeah, and there are anti-Semites who deny the Holocaust too, but we don't give them their own cable news channel.

Fantasizing about family in town

My mother is messing with me. She asked me to check out a couple of vintage condos here in Oak Park and reignited my hope that she and her husband will move here--at least part time. (I say reignited because she had me looking at condos at the height of the housing bubble and nothing came of it.)

One of the properties was a winner, a well-priced 3 bedroom unit in the historic Decker building that boasted all the original tile, bathroom fixtures and kitchen cabinets. Plus some squishy carpeting and hideous old lady furnishings.

Hello, look at the sink faucet handles? Have you ever seen these outside of the movies?

Honestly, I don't know how serious my mom is about moving close by, but I spent all weekend fantasizing about weekly family dinners and kid-Grandma sleepovers. I dreamed of meeting up with Mom at the Farmers Market and taking in concerts in the park. I imagined her joining us at Z's preschool graduation picnic, meeting us at Temple and picking Z up from swim camp. And yes, I fantasized about that holy grail of family in town: free babysitting.

A little bit of this, a little bit of that

I don't have any rants today, so you may wish to close your browser and nuke yourself a refrigerated Oscar Mayer sandwich. If you're going to stick around, though, lemme tell you the headlines from the House of Klein.

ITEM! We purchased tickets to Australia. All four of us will endure 20+ hours of air travel in United economy class for the pleasure of seeing my sister, brother-in-law, niece and yet-to-be-born nephew. The trip's not until November, and I'm having some difficulty imagining what it will be like with a 5 year old and a 2 year old, since I don't even know what regular life will be like with kids that old! I'm really looking forward to seeing my sis and her fam, whom I won't have seen in a year and a half, and watching the cousins run wild in her shared backyard, which was apparently equipped with consultation from Pee-Wee's Playhouse: trampoline, sandbox, garden, chickens and a dog. Oh, and they live 2 blocks from the beach. Woo-hoo!

ITEM! I saw Coraline in 3-D last night, and it was a triple-decker ice cream cone for my eyes. I tried not to get too wrapped up in the plot and surrendered myself the magical art direction and 3-D effects.

ITEM! I'm throwing a clothes swap party early next month. I picked a day when a lot of people are out of town for spring break, but I think I'll get enough yes responses to ensure a lively evening of wine, food and free wardrobe upgrades. If you read this blog and live locally, drop me a line and I'll send you the Evite.

#1 Step-Grandpa

When my mom got married last summer, everyone followed up the inevitable "Well, do you like the guy?" with "Do you consider him your stepfather?"

Yes and no, in case you're wondering. Rick's an amazing guy. He treats my mother like gold, which is really all I require of him, but he's also personable, caring and loves to laugh. But my stepfather? I'm in my thirties, thanks. I'm not in the market for a father figure.

But for the past few days I've watched the man-who-isn't-Dad gracefully step in to a grandfather role my own dad never got to play. During our stay with my mom and Rick, the girls really bonded with the man their Nanny married. He cheerfully carried them around, read books, played with toys and told elaborate bedtime stories. The girls couldn't get enough of him. Every time A saw him, she's raise her arms and cry "Up!" Z pestered him nonstop, begging him to let her crawl on his lap, help him care for his fish tank, play ping-pong and read yet more stories. Never once did he seem to tire of their antics or reveal the slightest annoyance as my two rugrats scattered toys across the living room floor, spilled food in the kitchen and generally made a racket wherever they went.

I was fond of Rick before, but through my children he's found a permanent place in my heart. He might never be my stepfather, but he'll be my kids' maternal grandfather for life.

And I'd be remiss if I didn't give a shout-out to my stepsisters--though I'm loathe to call them that since we never had to fight over the bathroom or the car. Ella and Emily are now Aunts Ella and Emily. Welcome to the family.

My, how our families have grown

I last took my family to visit Franny in September 2005. Here's what we looked like then...


Here's how we look now.

My fabulous gay cousin

Doesn't every gal want a fabulous gay cousin? A swishy BFF who can swoop into town for a weekend of gourmet meals, sage interior decorating advice and shoe shopping? Someone who can cast a queer eye at my closet and pull together 10 adorable outfits with the clothes I already own?

Yeah, well I've got a gay cousin. Two, if you count Mike's husband/life partner, Dave. And while the two of them are the least fabulously-dressed gay boys you'll ever meet (think jean shorts, tee shirts and a fanny pack), they are fabulously funny, as they prove in their new column for a Lawrence, Kansas magazine.

And while I'm not letting Mike or Dave near my wardrobe, they can give my computer a makeover any time.

The perks and perils of outsourcing

Last Saturday I hosted a Yom Kippur Break Fast for about 20 people, and this Saturday I'll be having 30 guests over as we give our daughters their Hebrew names in a shared Brit Bat ceremony. As part of my ongoing and largely unsuccessful effort to do a little less (this maternity leave has been jam-packed with activity), I decided I'm not going to cook or bake. With my mom, my in-laws and my best friend in town for the event, the last thing I need is more shopping, coordination of cook times and dishes to do.

So I called our local Cosi and ordered a mess of sandwiches, chips, salad and cookies for delivery around noon on Saturday. Imagine my surprise when they showed up today with the food delivery. Fortunately they acknowledged the error was theirs and promised they would still come as promised on Saturday.

With the cooking taken care of and my house cleaner scheduled to come on Thursday, all I needed to do was buy a bottle of Manischewitz. Right? Wrong. Isabel called to say she can't come this week, which means Josh and I are on deck to give the place a top-to-bottom scouring before folks start arriving on Friday.

Moments like this

They say having a second child more than doubles the work, and I think there's a lot of truth to that. Now two-months-old, A is an angel baby, sleeping through the night (mostly) and hardly ever crying. Yet we're exhausted, short-tempered and not nearly as nice to each other as we should be.

So when I'm fed up with bedtime battles, sour spit-up down my cleavage, endless laundry, dinner dishes and a husband who's short on sweet words himself, I focus on this. Those fleeting moments of sisterly love that make me feel like our family of four is perfectly complete.

Five days old

I've avoided writing because I'm not sure from minute to minute what I want to say about these first few days as a mother of two. Sleeplessness, hormones and a feeling of being completely overwhelmed conspire to keep me in tears at least a few times a day, but I'm fortunate to have the support of Josh and my friends (who've all been there before).

And some of the tears I've shed have been tears of joy. I feel like my heart is exploding with love for both of my children. I worried that I couldn't love another child as much as my firstborn, but I can and I do. Just looking at Baby A leaves me with a powerful lump in my throat.

I look forward to spending the next month or so figuring out how to be a family of four.

Sheer exhaustion

Traveling to a loved one's funeral on one day's notice is hard enough. But doing it 36 weeks pregnant in 90 degree weather with a newly potty-trained, non-napping toddler in tow...now that's a recipe for exhaustion. Add in a 3 hour flight delay, wickedly swollen feet and sleeping on an air mattress one night and a couch the next, and you'll understand why I went to bed last night shortly after putting a tearful, overtired Z down at 7:30.

In spite of my grief, it was wonderful seeing my family come together to celebrate Grandma Lorraine's remarkable life. She was the magnet that has keep us connected all these years, and I hope her absence won't mean seeing a lot less of my aunt, uncle and cousins.

And speaking of cousins, Z couldn't get enough of her 8-year-old second cousin Lindsay. She shadowed her every move, picking up good things (like dressing herself and letting me put her hair up) and bad (Bratz dolls).

Goodbye Grandma

My Martini Grandma passed away this morning. It's sad news to start my birthday with, but it's what she wanted, so for that I'm relieved. We'll be in Omaha for the funeral.

Yahrzeit

My father died five years ago yesterday. I remember receiving the call from my mother. She dialed me from a satellite phone from a fairly remote area in Albania, the country where my dad was serving as the U.S. Ambassador. I was shaken by the news--he was only 55 and seemed to be in good health--but I didn't grieve, not just then. Like so many others in shock by the loss of a loved one, I was distracted by the work that needed to be done. Family members needed to be called. A memorial service needed to be planned. My mother's life was suddenly without direction; while she usually managed to stay employed full-time, she'd uprooted herself (and us) every few years as Dad's assignments took us from place to place.

As it happened, my mom stayed in Albania to oversee a local memorial service (Joseph Limprecht was something of a celebrity there) before accompanying Dad's body home to Washington. My sister and her fiance flew in from Australia, and I helped the State Department coordinator plan a memorial service in D.C. We ended up choosing to have the service at the DACOR-Bacon House, where I'd been married just 2 years earlier.

It wasn't until a few months later that I really came to grips with my Dad's death. I was never terribly close to my father--if anything, I regret we didn't have the chance to deepen our bond. But I often wonder what Grandpa Joe might have been like.

We're back

It wasn't quite a vacation, but our trip back East to visit friends and family was pretty successful. We're exhausted, yes, but it was nice to catch up in person with so many of our favorite people. And seeing our daughter connect with her relatives is even more rewarding.

That said, I have a few resolutions for next time.

1) Naps are holy. Honor and keep them like an observant Jew on the Sabbath. If you push the nap too far, it won't happen at all and an over-tired child means a cranky parent. Did I mention Z took a nap only 2 days out of 6?
2) You can never pack enough snacks. Especially those "special treat" snacks that your toddler loves more than anything. A little fruit leather on the teeth is well worth the peace and quiet. Especially after you've listened to whining for an hour straight. And subjected strangers to it too.
3) Each parent deserves a little me-time. A break from all the jolly togetherness and chaos involved in organizing an outing for multiple generations. We didn't figure this out until the very end of our trip. I sent Josh off to the movies and he came back a much happier, more patient man. I'll be sure to squeeze in a massage or just some quiet time on the beach with a book during our upcoming vacation in Akumal.
4) Eat at least a couple pieces of fresh fruit every day. With travel and eating out, I sometimes find my diet becomes a little too carb, meat and sodium-heavy. I feel so much better when there's a bowl of fruit available for snacking.
5) And keep that portable DVD player charged!

More people!

We've packed the past couple of days with friends and relatives, and Z's continued to astonish us with her capacity for recalling people's names. We spent the 25th in Harrisburg with Josh's aunt and uncle. In addition to us and Josh's parents and sister, his cousin Penny was there with her husband and three kids (one 3 1/2 year old boy and twin 3 month old girls). It was a typical Jewish Christmas in that we ate Chinese takeout. Unfortunately we'd already had Chinese food the night before in a typical Jewish Christmas Eve.

On the 26th we took Amtrak from Wilmington to Union Station in D.C. Z loved the train--no surprise there, but I was disappointed that our "reserved coach seats" were essentially meaningless. We walked the length of the train looking for two seats together, but every seat we passed had someone stretched out asleep on it. We finally found empty seats in the quiet car, figuring that if the conductor tried to throw us out, we'd make him find us seats together.

Since arriving in D.C., we've visited with my Grandma Marge, Rick's daughters (my Mom's boyfriend's college-age daughters) and Josh's Grandpa Reuben as well as his Aunt Kathryn and Uncle Gary and their family. The latter we met (along with my in-laws) in a private party room at Maggiano's, the perfect location for lunch when the invitees include an untamed 2-year-old, a frail 94-year-old and an autistic 14-year-old.