Maybe I have too much on my plate...

Just as I was berating myself for not blogging but not having the energy to blog about everything that's happened in the past week (trip to LA, company holiday party, company after-party, interview with the creator of Yummie Tummie, preschool holiday party, co-worker's holiday party, a fleeting case of pink eye, Chavurah Chanukah party, our new kitty, etc., etc.)... I find myself having a truly blog-worthy moment.

I filled up our electric teakettle with water to make tea... and put it on the gas stove.

This, ladies and gentlemen, this what idiocy (or maybe too much wine and too little sleep) looks like:

Now that I've gotten that out there, here are a couple of photos from the Montessori holiday party. First the kids sang their favorite songs in their individual classrooms. (A wanted to sit with her sister "on stage.")

Then we joined the rest of the school for food, face painting and a silent auction. I won a pizza lunch for Z and 9 friends with "Mr Bruce," the school business manager.

Z with Evan, who she's loved since she was in diapers

Julia, one of Z's best friends, actually spent much of the evening leading A around by the hand.

Stay tuned for highlights from my conversation with Yummie Tummie's Heather Thomson. I asked her how--besides wearing her tank tops--a girl can look thin and shapely in 9 degree weather.

On the road again...

Hello from not-sunny, kind of cold Los Angeles, where I'm helping conduct some in-home consumer research--in Spanish. Yes, with an interpreter.

I'm staying at the swanky Mondrian Hotel in West Hollywood, which helps make up for the fact that my entire days are spent in a car or sitting on someone's uncomfortable kitchen chair.

Have you seen my A Few Things I'd Like to Bring Home from Australia post over at the Chicago Moms Blog?

Meet Oscar

Just a few days before Silver received her grim diagnosis, my friend Kirsten, a soft-hearted pet lover if there ever was one, rescued this kitten from an organic farm. It had been dumped on the property a few days beforehand and had been trying in vain to get into the farmhouse. The farmer didn't think he'd survive the winter as a barn/farm cat, so Kirsten and her equally soft-hearted mom scooped him up and brought him to Oak Park, determined to find the guy a home.

We weren't planning on getting another pet so soon, but the timing seem fortuitous and he's such a sweet, kid-friendly cat.

Yes, A's wearing scrubs. Getting her H1N1 booster reignited interest in her doctor kit.

A few things I'd like to bring home from Australia

I just returned from a two week visit to Australia, where my sister lives with her Australian husband and their family. As far as foreign countries go, it takes a long, long time to get there, but it is pretty familiar territory once you land. A thoroughly modern, cosmopolitan city, Sydney kind of looks like Southern California, complete with tattooed surfers, texting teenagers, Target, McDonald's, Subway and KFC outlets.

But Australia isn't America Down Under, and they've got a few things I'd like to import.

1. Public Health Care

Yeah, this is a big one. No one in Australia goes uninsured. Everyone has access to the state-run Medicare plan. Yes, you might have to wait a few months to get non-emergency work done, but you won't have to mortgage your house or go bankrupt to pay for it. Once your household reaches a certain income level, you can pay a penalty (I believe it is $2000) to stay in the public plan or you can opt to buy private insurance. In my sister's case, private insurance cost about the same as the penalty but got her access to "fancier" care like a post-partum recovery suite at a local hotel where she had catered meals and 24/7 access to a private maternity nurse.

2. Enforcement of Driving Laws

Obviously regulations vary from place to place in the U.S., but at least in Chicago it takes a lot to get yourself pulled over and a whole lot to lose your license. In Australia traffic fines are high, enforcement is constant (traffic cameras and random roadblocks with breathalyzer tests are common) and it isn't uncommon to meet someone who has lose his or her license for 6 months for accumulating too many points. Yeah, there's a little less freedom on the open road, but I didn't see anyone speeding, talking or texting while driving. In general, drivers were courteous and pedestrians respected.

3. More Natural Foods

I couldn't find a single processed food item in Australia with high fructose corn syrup. Not Heinz ketchup, not Ocean Spray Cranberry Juice Cocktail, not peanut butter, jelly or crackers. The candy Smarties (basically Nestle's answer to M&Ms) was running an outdoor campaign touting "no artificial colors." Even Kraft Singles were a natural shade of white instead of orange. The egg selection at the store was a revelation. Each package described not only whether the eggs were organic or free range, but whether they were raised in a barn or a field. And they were delicious.

4. Dual Flush Toilets

It doesn't take a genius to know that you don't need the same amount of water to wash away number 1 as you do for number 2. In Australia, whether you're at a public restroom or at home, you select your flush. It just makes so much sense. Can someone please explain to me why dual flush toilets haven't taken off in the U.S.?

5. Parents with Prams Parking

I was astonished to find that my sister's local shopping center, an indoor mall with a Target, Big W (Walmart), a bunch of mall-type boutiques and a food court, had an entire section of the parking garage dedicated to "parents with prams" (that's strollers to us Yanks). Those not headed to family parking don't even pass through! Imagine how wonderful it would be to park close to the entrance in a special lot where every other driver is on the lookout for small children on the loose and no one will impatiently tap their steering wheel as they wait for you to fold up your stroller and buckle two wiggly kids into their car seats.

There are lots of other things I'd like to bring home from Australia, like warm weather, sandy beaches, roundabouts, flat white coffees and honeycomb as an ingredient in indulgent treats (ice cream, gelato, chocolate bars and butter). I'll pass on the harsh sun, rampant wildfires, poisonous snakes, enormous spiders and roaches and Vegemite.

Why we gave our toddler an iPod

It takes 20 hours to travel from Chicago to Australia. 20 long hours when you're traveling with two small children. That right there is reason enough to buy an iPod Touch.

Now a couple of years ago, iPods were for music. Podcasts and audio books, maybe. But today's iPod Touch (an iPhone without the phone, really) can function as a mini wifi-enabled computer

and entertainment hub. One with impressive battery life that won't take up space in your carry-on.

We loaded up our new 32GB iPod with music for Josh, Hebrew lessons for me, a selection of photos from our iPhone album, audio books for Z (she's partial to Lemony Snicket), a few Disney animated movies and games. We bought a headphone splitter and two sets of headphones so the kids could watch Toy Story at the same time. Unfortunately we only bought one pair of kid-sized headphones, and they were far more comfortable than the adult pair.

Now about those games. On Rookie Moms' recommendation, we downloaded iWrite Words and iChalky. Sound Shaker and Sort Slider were provided free to me by TickleTapApps so that I could review them. We were gone for 2 weeks and spent a whole lot of time in the air or driving somewhere, and both games were compelling enough to stop a crying jag cold. They were also compelling enough to start a few fights over who got to play them. Both girls mastered the noncompetitive, endless games quickly, and Sort Slider, a game that rewards you for matching a shape ended up being too easy even for 2 year old A. I'm honestly surprised it's recommended for kids 3-5. Sound Shaker (recommended for kids 4+) was the bigger hit: even I found its musical balls and hatching baby birds mesmerizing. Both games are available for $1.99 at the iTunes store.

From two cats to none

Less than a month ago we euthanized Tallulah. She was a healthy cat with an unhealthy litter box problem that just couldn't be resolved.

Today karma scratched back and we had to euthanize Silver. Over the past 3 or 4 weeks Silver lost a lot of weight (down to 6lbs from 11) and started wheezing when she was excited/purring. She lost interest in food and stopped coming upstairs to our bedroom.

When we returned from Australia Josh and I agreed something was definitely very wrong. Josh made an appointment with the vet, and at noon today we got the diagnosis: advanced lung cancer.

A huge tumor was filling up Silver's chest cavity, squeezing out her lungs and heart and making organ failure imminent. She didn't respond to oxygen treatments.

The vet advised Josh against bringing her home. I wanted to be there for Silver's last breaths, but I didn't want her last hours to be in a cage at the vet's office, a place she'd always despised, so I agreed to let Josh escort her to evermore.

I'm so sad. Silver was our first baby. It was 1997 and Josh and I had just moved in together. We drove his white Toyota Corolla from Hyde Park to the Anti-Cruelty Society downtown. She was a 6 month old adolescent in a cage labeled "unwanted." I stroked her pretty tabby coat and, gave said, stupidly, "Isn't she sweet. We could call her Silver." Not a proud moment for an aspiring copywriter, but the name stuck.

For years, we spoiled her with cat treats, catnip and toys. Her favorite was the wire and cardboard cat dancer. She tolerated Z's arrival 5 years ago, but became suspicious of the baby when she went mobile. Since then, she's been a gentle evening caller--spending her days on our bed and her evenings on our laps, appearing as soon as the kids are tucked into bed. Until very recently she slept on Josh and my bed, hopping up as soon as we'd turned in for the night.

Silver, you'll be missed.

How to speak Australian

They drive on the left. You knew that. But did you know your windshield wipers and turn signals are swapped as well?
I've mentioned my beloved flat white (espresso with milk), but did I you know Aussies call bell peppers capsicums and raisins sultanas?

That strollers are prams, cribs are cots, sweaters are jumpers, preschool is kindy, diapers are nappies and pacis are dummies? Also elevators are lifts, drugstores are chemists and friends are mates...

Incidentally, I packed two boxes of regular (yellow box) Cheerios for my sister since the only kind they sell are these presweetened multigrain Os.

I also found it interesting that, while Gerber dominates the American baby food market, Heinz has it cornered in Australia, selling everything from jarred purees to toddler snacks.

Even fast food outlets are a little different. Subway was heavily promoting its new Chicken Tikka sandwich and I'm guessing you'll recognize this fast food restaurant...

Apparently someone had already trademarked Burger King down under.

Jet lag is a bitch

We put the kids to bed pretty much on schedule last night and hoped for the best. I was still wired when I headed to bed around 11pm, so I wasn't altogether shocked to see Z wide awake in her bed 20 minutes after she'd gotten up to pee.

She complained she couldn't sleep, so understanding mom that I am, I let her drag her comforter and pillow to our bedroom floor. And that's when the fun really started. A, who'd been moaning for Mommy off and on for about an hour, escalated her demands to a full-throttle holler. So I brought her to bed.

Fifteen minutes later Z was standing next the bed, tears running down her cheeks. She wanted to snuggle Mommy too. Since A seemed mostly content and our bed really isn't build for 4, I led Z back to her room and promised to lie down with her there.

Minutes later A was crying for Mommy and Z's telling me she "doesn't want A to lose her voice." So the two of us headed back to my room. Two small children in mom and dad's bed in the middle of the night -- two small children whose brains think it is the middle of the day even though it is the middle of the night... it was a party that had Dad running out before midnight and them keeping me up until after 2.

I've got my fingers crossed that an early morning plus melatonin at bedtime will mean a more rested me as I head back to work tomrorow.

See, I told you the kid was sick

Take a look at Z with the flu at the beginning of our trip ...

And after she'd made a full recovery...

Our neverending Friday

My last flat white of the trip

Friday morning in Sydney we awoke--as usual--around 6am. I fed the kids a light breakfast, showered and finished packing. I hit Big W (the Australian Walmart) for new coloring books and snacks for the plane while Josh kept an eye on the kiddos at the mall playland (big box and grocery stores are frequently located inside malls in Oz) and then we met up with Eleanor, Simon and Sam for breakfast at Bill's, the first place we'd gone to in Australia when we last visited in 2004, and the chef/cafe behind a couple of our favorite cookbooks.

From left: Josh, A, me, Z, Eleanor, Sam and Simon

After sharing plates of scrambled eggs, ricotta hotcakes with honeycomb butter and corn fritters, we headed over to Centennial Park (the Sydney equivalent of NYC's Central Park) with Eleanor and Sam (Eliza was at daycare) for a final hour under the intense southern hemisphere sun. I hadn't brought a hat or sunscreen, and my skin was starting to turn pink in 15 minutes. The stay-at-home moms were out in force and far more prepared for the heat and UV rays--they'd all set up picnic blankets in the shade and were laying out hats, suncream, umbrellas and water bottles.

Fair Z knows how to avoid a sunburn

At 12:30 we returned to Eleanor's and changed into our air travel clothes. It was 32 degrees celsius as we arrived at the Sydney airport--driven, as it turned out, by the most incompetent cab driver in the world. We should have known something was up when her words, after we'd belted in our kids, were "So you know the way, right?" We--the out-of-towners--had to guide her to the airport as she braked and signaled randomly through intersections, causing the usually polite Australian drivers to lay on their horns. As we approached the airport, she asked, 5 times, which airline we were taking. Each time we said "United" and she replied with "Okay, American."

We boarded our plane at 2:40 and took off, on time, at 3:30pm Sydney time. After 13 hours in the air, we arrived in LA at 9:30am. Nothing like flying over the international date line to get you to move backwards through time. LAX was a nightmare of standing in line after line with cranky kids, but our four hour 12:30 flight to Chicago was a (relative) piece of cake. We got home at 7:30pm, completing the world's longest Friday when we collapsed in our own bed at 10pm.

20+ hours of travel with two kids is really not much worse than 10 hours of travel with young kids, but the lack of sleep and constant catering to their whims is a real brain draining. I woke up this morning to the realization that, after paying our cabbie last night, I left my wallet in the taxi. Which means that, in addition to leaving Z's Leapster 2 (and all of its games) on a Jetstar flight from Byron Bay to Sydney, I lost my drivers license, ATM card, one credit card and $250 in cash coming home.

Oh well, I'm still calling the trip a success. More Australia posts to come. Soon. And more pictures can be seen here.

Sydney Wildlife World and the best lunch ever

Unlike yesterday, this morning's tourist adventure was successful. Eleanor took advantage of her weekly babysitter to drive us to Darling Harbour, where we took in the snakes, spiders, kangaroos and koalas at a completely not crowded Sydney Wildlife World. We then walked to Chinatown, where we ate an amazing lunch at Mamak. It's the first time I've ever had Malaysian food, and I sure hope it isn't my last. Roti bread, chicken kababs, lamb curry and a plate with coconut rice, peanuts, fried sardines, a boiled egg and hot sauce.

After lunch, A prompted fell asleep in the stroller and we walked to Queen Victoria Center, an upscale shopping spot where Josh and Z had cupcakes. We wandered around the downtown area until A awoke and then we began our adventure in getting home. Turns out not every bus stops at every stop and during the week you have to buy your pass in advance. So we had an unscheduled coffee and runaround break in Hyde Park before getting home to Eleanor's flat around 2:30. 

The afternoon was relaxing. We drove about 5 minutes to a salt water pool cut out of rocks and fed by the ocean where I swam with the girls. Then we had a barbecue in the back yard with Eleanor's downstairs neighbors--her husband's twin sister and her family. Their kids are 5 and 3 and Finnbar, the 5 year old, hit it off beautifully with Z. 

After a dinner of salmon, corn, coleslaw, asparagus and watermelon, Eleanor and I beat a quick retreat to a movie theatre, were we saw The Boys are Back, a quintessentially Aussie film about loss that doubled as a travel film making me long to see the coast of South Australia in person.

3 hours and $200 later, we saw some fish and ate a sandwich

Even with lying about Z's age to save some money, our admissions passes to the insanely crowded Sydney Aquarium cost $90 (we'd added on tickets to Wildlife World, which is next door, but I accidentally handed those tickets to the attendant and now, ripped, they probably won't get us in the door). Parking was another $50 for 2 hours. Hunger induced whining and menstrual cramps were free. 

After about 90 minutes we left the Aquarium and bought a couple of bags of pretzels ($5) and a milk ($1.70) to keep the kids occupied on the drive to Chinatown. Miracle of miracles, Josh found the Malaysian restaurant recommended to him by Simon the night before, but as he turned right to find a parking spot, he inadvertently took us onto the crosstown tunnel. 

By the time we saw daylight again, we were halfway to Maroubra, where Eleanor lives. We weren't sure if she'd restocked the fridge, so we opted to buy sandwiches at a coffee shop on the beach ($34)

First, however, the kids needed a double-dump roadside potty break. Our Potette has been getting a lot of use on this trip.

Top 3 things about Australia I'd like to bring to the US

1. Dual flush toilets. They only use more water when nature requires it. Why is this not the norm everywhere?

2. "Flat white" coffee. Drip coffee is a rarity in Australia. Flat white is an espresso with hot milk--similar to a no-foam latte, but less milky. Incidentally, I haven't seen a Starbucks yet.

3. Roundabouts. They're so much more fun than stop signs.

And here's what I return to the US without missing...

1. High prices. My sister can easily spend $300 a week on groceries for her small family and I found myself forking over $8.70 Australian (about $7.90) for 80 baby wipes. Everything here is expensive. Except, perhaps, wine.

2. Tattoos on everyone. Especially tattoos of angel wings on women's backs. It was more uncommon to find someone at the beach without a tattoo than inked.

3. Can't think of a third thing right now. I guess its Australia 3, US 2.

And while it is neither here nor there, I think it is interesting that no one asks us for ID when flying domestically in Australia. We also didn't have to remove our shoes or get rid of our liquids when going through security.

Australia: Day 5

In case you think I've dropped off the face of the earth, I haven't. I've just been completely unplugged from phones and the Internet for the past 3 days. And aside from a little anxiety at first, I'm not really minding it.

I'm typing this from Byron Bay, at the very easternmost point in Australia. We're sharing a beach house with my sister, her family, and her mother-in-law. We're swimming in the ocean, building sand castles, napping in the breezes and eating really, really well. (My sister married into a family of foodies.)

Z's shaken her sickness. It appears that despite her double vaccinations against the flu and H1N1, she caught one of the two viruses (the latter, most likely).

I think I'll try handgliding before the week is out and we return to Sydney. Then get ready for a more in-depth update and PHOTOS.

Australia: Day 2

Day two began for me around 4am. Apparently the jetlag you get from traveling halfway around the world is about the same as that you get from flying from Chicago to LA.

The girls awoke around 5:30 and I promptly dosed Z with some ibuprofen as she had become feverish the evening before. We waited until it was after 6am to head upstairs to Eleanor's flat for breakfast and all eight of us drove to Bondi Beach to see the Sydney Sculpture By the Sea. Z, who was feeling really under the weather, hung out in a stroller and snapped a few pictures with her new camera before falling asleep. After checking out the art and hitting a playground, we drove to Eleanor and Simon's old neighborhood for the Glebe Street Festival. 

The street fest wasn't all that different from a Chicago summer street fest, but their most common festival foods aren't corn dogs, brats and elephant ears--they're Turkish flatbreads stuffed with spinach, feta and spiced ground lamb. Z wouldn't eat--not even pasta with olive oil and parmesan--so we considered taking her to a medical clinic. The threat of a doctor seemed to snap her out of her feverish stupor, and she was playful for the rest of the day--even with a post-medicine temperature about 100 degrees.

How I almost missed my flight to Australia...

I pride myself in being an excellent juggler. I can't literally keep three balls in the air, but I somehow manage working full time, being an involved mother to two little girls, serving as co-president of our Montessori school and studying for my Bat Mitvzah.

So it was inevitable that something would fall through the cracks.

My sister, who lives in Australia, called me at work on Wednesday afternoon.

"Are you all packed and ready to go? Do you leave tonight or tomorrow?" she asked.
"Oh, we don't take off until Friday night," I responded.
"Um, it takes two days to get here and I'm picking you up at the airport on Saturday. Are you sure you leave on Friday? Check your itinerary."

I checked.

Gulp. I leave Thursday. In just over 24 hours! My stomach dropped and I start furiously sending emails--while still talking to my sister, who lives in Australia. Tell husband. Tell the housesitter. Find alternate transportation to the airport. Cancel daughter's haircut. Finish up at work a day ahead of schedule. My multitasking skills shot into overdrive as I tried to figure out how I, planner extraordinaire, could screw up the day of our flight--for a trip I've been planning for 6 months.

Thanks to my sister's phone call, we got out right on time. I can't bear to think about what would have happened if we'd shown up at the airport on Friday.

Originally posted to Chicago Moms Blog

Australia: Day 1

It turns out you can fly for 20 hours with a broken in-flight entertainment system and two small children and still step off the plane with your sanity intact. Z was a champ, sleeping a fair amount on the San Francisco to Sydney leg. A was not an ideal traveling companion, but since I'd pretty much resigned myself to being her entertainer/waitress/disciplinarian, I was neither surprised not particularly disappointed that I only read about 25 pages of my book.

What I was not entirely prepared for was the double-meltdown of extraordinary proportions that had me barely saving bystanders from A's kicking feet in the passport control line. A German couple in front of me looked at me with pity and kindness and urged me to jump to the front of the line. I thanked her and said that if the people in front of me offered, we'd do it. The guy in front of me didn't even turn around. Apparently getting to his luggage 3 minutes ahead of me was worth the hearing loss. 

By the time we'd claimed our luggage and stepped into the customs line, A was calm. Z's bowels, not so much. The customs director took pity on us after I declared our "Cheerios, granola bars, a brownie and a kid who needs a toilet now" and waved us through without an inspection.

Miracle of miracles our jet-lag hasn't been too bad yet. We arrived around 8:30am and A took her regular nap from 1 to 3 (after a trip to the beach and an overpriced fish and chips). If we can make it to 8pm, we'll all turn in together in Eleanor and Simon's spare room. 

Veterans Day

Thank you. Thank you to the servicemen and women who sacrifice so much for so little. And thank you to the families who stay behind, raising children, running households and going to sleep in an empty bed.

Hand-Picked Pumpkin is having a sample sale

A fellow preschool mom, Allison Case, picks up Z every Thursday afternoon and drives her home, saving Josh the insanity of waking A up from her nap, dragging her to the potty and buckling her cranky butt into her car seat for a 15 minute round trip.

I owe Allison, big time.

So I am delighted--ecstatic even--to help spread the word about her sample sale, which is happened tomorrow at her design studio in South Oak Park. Allison created a line of baby and children's clothes called Hand Picked Pumpkin, and while her beautiful, soft knit wares are typically out of my price range, she's discounting sample items 60%. Get a head start on your holiday shopping, feel good about supporting a local business, and a little vicarious thrill from knowing your kids are wearing the same thing as those hip celebrity offspring.

Sample Sale Details

Thursday, November 12th

9am-noon and 5pm-8pm

Sizes 3-6M up to 4T

Cash only

Email me or info@handpickedpumpkin.com for the address.

Photo courtesy of Hand Picked Pumpkin

News flash: A wore a coat!

Putting socks and shoes on A is a challenge, but one we've largely licked by insisting she can't go outside barefoot. Getting the girl to wear a coat...that has proved a little more difficult. But the weather won't be warm enough to let her go without for long, so I was so thankful when our friend Linda loaned us a couple of cute coats her daughter had outgrown.

This morning I asked A to pick one of her "new" coats to wear for the walk to daycare. She selected a purple Hanna Andersson jacket and happily flipped it over her head (Z demonstrated the preschooler trick). She even let me zip it up! Then A marched the two doors down the block proudly singing "my NEW purple coat is a PRESENT from Belly!"

This Is Me Journal: a perfect first diary

One of the gifts I bought for Z for her 5th birthday was a This Is Me journal, a first diary/slambook that uses a lot of questions and prompts to encourage early reader/writers to express themselves. As any reader of this blog (or real-life friend) knows, Z's a very advanced reader. She has a lot fewer opportunities for creative writing and expression, so I thought this would be the perfect first diary.

I'm love reading Z's thoughts, learning that she'd like to grow up to be an "art teacher" because "it is fun" and live in "a hose" because "it is nicer." Her Halloween entry said she was "a vampir" and her favorite candy is "Hrshes."

Here's her first story.

You can save $5 on a This Is Me journal order with the code "november."

A practically perfect morning at the Morton Arboretum

Although A cried halfway through the trip out west because she "don' wanna take a car--take a stroller," once she dried her tears and popped in her paci, we had a wonderful morning outdoors in the 70 degree (!) weather. We met up with two families we've become friends with through Z's preschool and ended up bumping another preschool family and some old neighbors. It seemed half of Oak Park was out at the Arboretum. The kids played together beautifully, climbing through the treehouses and munching their way through each other snacks.

We finished our morning with lunch at Katy's Dumpling House, and as we drove home, windows down and A drifting off to sleep, I felt so, so lucky. Fresh air and time spent with good friends--it was exactly what I needed.

A report from the "almost sleepover"

Although it was neither relaxing nor a moment too short, I'm going to count Z's 5th birthday party a success. 10 little girls, aged 4 1/2 to almost 6 joined our girls for Freddy's Pizza, cupcakes from Soirees and Sweets (a local business that delivers gourmet cupcakes to your door for about $20 a dozen), a Princess movie sing-a-long and crafts. Pajamas were worn, sleeping bags unrolled and piled on top of each other and each kid got to decorate a pillowcase with fabric markers and a foam door hanger with her name and sparkly stickers.

A couple of the girls stood out as obvious trouble-makers--trying to exclude others and sneak off to unsupervised areas of the house, but the vast majority of the attendees were sweet as can be. Z's lucky to go to school with such a great group of girls. (And I'm lucky to count their parents among my friends!)

Incidentally, it is entirely possible that little A had more fun than anyone at the party--Z included. She was in her element, showing off her thrice handed-down Princess jammies, crawling inside the big girls' sleeping bags with them and moving from one lap to the next.

Lessons learned for next time:

1) Things move fast. The kids had changed into their jammies, decorated a pillowcase and eaten their pizza slices in the first 30 minutes. I still had 2 hours to fill!

2) I had too many kids and not enough experience as a preschool teacher to organize games. Once one or two alpha girls dropped out, it devolved into chaos. The DVD player transformed maniacs into merely excited kids.

3) It's far better to have too many craft supplies and cupcakes than not enough. Some kids will want to make more or won't be satisfied with their first effort.

4) Choices are not a good thing. Everyone got the same kind of plain cheese pizza, the same flavored water and the same colored pillowcase. The variety of cake plates and cake frosting caused unnecessary shouting.

Happy Birthday Song from almaklein on Vimeo.

Z's 4th birthday party

Z's 3rd birthday party

Z's 2nd birthday party

Rest in Peace, Tallulah

After four and a half years of litter box accidents, hundreds of dollars worth of vet visits, medicine, prescription cat food and behavior modification, we've officially given up on Tallulah.

There aren't really any adoptive families out there for 10 year old cats who poop on the floor, so on the advice of our veterinarian and our local no-kill animal shelter, we had her put down today.

I feel horribly guilty. My cats were my first "kids," and now I've had one killed for misbehaving. But cats aren't kids. The ethics are different.

I'm sad now. Josh is probably even sadder. But we gave Tallulah a good life. And that's what I'll choose to remember.

Happy 5th birthday to you

Dear Z,

I can't believe I'm the mother of a five year old. Five!

It's clear you are not a baby anymore. You're not a toddler. You're barely a preschooler, flourishing as you are in the kindergarten program at Montessori school. You're a kid. A little person. Heck, you'll probably remember being five.

Since turning four, you've learned so much and made me so proud. Since learning to read, you've progressed rapidly to level 3 on those Early Reader books. You love all aspects of school: math, science, geography, culture and art. You're still into fairy tales and princesses, but you're also asking questions (and occasionally jumping to conclusions) about Judaism, history and the natural world. You've learned to swim (although you're still doggie-paddling at this point) and you continue to shine in gymnastics class.

The year ahead is packed with the promise of more firsts. A trip to Australia. Public school. The school bus. Riding a bike without training wheels. Even the possibility of flying unaccompanied to visit grandparents (although I'm not sure I'm ready for that).

You're a model big sister, advocating for A and leading her around the house in elaborate games of pretend. Although you're not a holding hands, huggy kind of kid, you still have an enormous number of friends. Limiting your birthday party invite list was a touchy affair since you wanted to invite all your school friends, neighborhood friends and the kids from your old playgroup. We ended up limiting you to 10 female school friends--all of whom RSVPed yes and are coming to the almost sleepover on Saturday.

But life with you isn't all sunshine and roses. Your smarts, coupled with two parents who never shy away from a debate, mean you try to negotiate for everything (I think I wrote this last year, too). You're moody, and you have a whiny cranky voice that can peel wallpaper off a wall. You've also become more of a picky eater than before--something I honestly didn't think was possible. The whiny, cranky negotiator in you becomes particularly intolerable at bedtime. It's virtually impossible for me to put you to bed without a fight, but you behave much better for Daddy, since he has a zero-tolerance policy for nonsense. Good thing the both of you are enjoying the Lemony Snicket series so much!

More birthday letters

Z at age 4

Z at age 3

Z at age 2

Tee-hee...mama's got treats in store

Tomorrow is Z's birthday, so tonight I wrapped and hid presents around the house and wrote clues for her to follow. I also made Smitten Kitchen's Brown Butter Crispy Treats. Because I love Rice Crispy Treats, brown butter and salt.

Not our regular babysitter

Last night our children were watched for a little over an hour by

a) A 13 year old girl

b) A world-famous fashion blogger

If you guessed a, you'd be correct. Ditto for those of you who chose b.

You see, my Hebrew cantillation class conflicted with a concert Josh was assigned to review, and after striking out three times on babysitters, I emailed my Hebrew teacher and study partner to tell them things were looking bleak with regard to my ability to attend.

My Hebrew teacher--who, by the way, is a Norwegian immigrant and Jew by choice who speaks a dozen languages--volunteered her daughter Tavi.

Tavi, unlike most middle school students, authors a well-regarded style blog and gets flown all over the world for fashion shows, photoshoots and interviews. Here she is in September at Fashion Week. Next month she goes to Toyko.

Kind of makes the $7 I gave her for playing puzzles and putting Z to bed seem like small potatoes.

One Halloween, multiple costume changes

Josh inherited a bag of costumes from a fellow parent at A's Temple Tots class on Friday, which meant Z just had to wear something new for Halloween on Saturday. Did I cry when she decided she didn't want to be a glitter-shedding Disney® Cinderella® yet again? Hell, no!

Here she is for trick or treating, round one. She was so cute and fuzzy in that monkey costume, I kind of wanted to eat her right up!

A promptly stripped off the pirate costume and pulled on the Tinkerbell dress from last week (which, if you recall, replaced the bumble bee costume we'd originally agreed on). Here she is freezing her tushie off with her BFF Stella.

Z unzipped her furry, warm monkey costume because she was self-conscious about the big belly (really? does this need to start now?) and put on the 2T pirate costume previously modeled by her little sister.

Two pirates together. Arrrr!

After an hour of trick or treating through the neighborhood, we had the kids come in for mac and cheese and candy snarfing. They each ate a few pieces, put aside a couple more, and sacrificed the rest to the "Halloween Fairy," who rewarded them with toys from Melissa & Doug. A got a toy birthday cake set and Z a world map puzzle.

I saw these movies and so should you

Since last week, I've seen three movies. This is big news for a mother of two small children who works full time and has taken on co-presidency of her daughter's preschool (which is pretty much a second job, albeit unpaid).

This Is It reminded me that Michael Jackson shouldn't not be remembered as a child-molesting victim of awful plastic surgery, but as a musician, a dancer and an artist. I left the movie teary and inspired.

Paranormal Activity gave me some serious willies. I could have used a little less shaky cam (especially after stuffing myself on tamales, beans and queso fundido at Adriana's daycare Halloween party), but it gave me a good scare. I've found that the less gore there is, more better the thrill I get from a horror movie. And this flick is gore-free. Ack!

The third movie was Food, Inc., which I saw on DVD last night. It reaffirmed my commitment to stay the hell away from fast food and continue buying organic eggs and meat. Makes me extra glad I threw an extra package of local ground beef into my basket at the final farmers market on Saturday.

Kitchen mini-remodel: we're over halfway there!

Before

After

The granite and deep stainless steel undermount sink are by Granite Design. Andy from the Good Handyman is coordinating the work.
Up next: bone white subway tile backsplash, new cabinet pulls, enhanced under cabinet lighting over the sink and some touch-up painting.

The Halloween--er--Harvest Party

After spending weeks announcing to anyone who asked that she was going to be a bumble bee, A pulled an 11th hour costume switch and dug out this Tinkerbell getup from the dress-up box.

Still, as soon as we got to Z's school, A shouted "I'm a scary bumble bee!"

Tink got her face painted and then spilled water down her dress, rendering it too uncomfortable for her to bear. For the last 45 minutes of the event, my youngest was clad in flowery underpants, Crocs with socks and a Dora t-shirt from a friend's box of spare clothes.
Z wore her Cinderella costume, as planned. As did her friend with the same name. Two Zs, two Cinderellas. (Actually, there were at least 3 Disney Cinderellas wandering through the gym.)

And here's Evan, Z's friend since her pre-walking days at daycare, as sweet and photogenic as ever. That kid kisses more babies than your average local politician.

H1N1: The kids got their swine flu shots

Every day I log onto Facebook and see more of my friends (or their kids) have come down with swine flu. But early this week I saw the Oak Park Village (I'm a fan) was taking calls for an H1N1 vaccination clinic for high-risk residents. I called right away and got the girls two of the first 15 slots.



Speaking of vaccinations, this month's Wired cover story has a pretty good cover story called An Epidemic of Fear: How Panicked Parents Skipping Shots Endanger Us All.

Slightly disturbing photographs

Every day I come home to find undressed adult female dolls in arrayed in strange and somewhat compromising positions on the floor.

Completely unrelated, but also in bad taste, I offer you this horrifying marble slab.

Who would choose this and for what room in their house? It was displayed kitty-corner from the dark greenish granite slab we selected for our new countertop, which could be installed as early as next week!

I don't care if you're cute after midnight

Last night was a giant ball of suck.

I am too wiped out to tell you why neither Josh nor I got more than 4 hours of sleep. But, if you were to guess it had something to do with the pumpkin pictured here waking up wiggly and feverish at 1am and not going back to sleep until 8:45, well, you'd be right.

Trader Joe's wine and cookies

It's no secret that I love Trader Joe's. It's our source for all of our basic staples: milk, eggs, yogurt, chicken, cheese, juice, dried fruit and nuts, salad greens and bananas. Oh yeah, and wine. Drinkable, cheap wine.

But oh, this Chariot red wine is something special. Seriously special. As in, it tastes as good--if not better--than any of the pricey wines I've ever had.

And then there are these "double stuf" Maple Leaf cookies, which are the perfect accompaniment to a cup of Trader Joe's Bedtime tea.

Both are limited edition items, so stock up now.

This post is a labor of love. No freebies or financial consideration involved.

Photography by Z

Stuff to do with small children when the pool's closed and it's too cold and wet to hit the park, part 2: hand your 4 year old your digital camera and let her document a walk through the neighborhood. See all her shots here.

I'm bored. Let's sing.

Stuff to do with small children when the pool's closed and it's too cold and wet to hit the park, part 1: Record music videos.

Row, row, row your boat from almaklein on Vimeo.

Giving up on a cat (maybe)

My latest post, about our struggles with Tallulah, is up at the Chicago Moms Blog. Since I wrote it, I had a long conversation with the behavioral therapist at the Anti-Cruelty Society and she brainstormed a few more things we can try (newspaper in her litter box, pheromone spray and a homeopathic anti-anxiety compound, followed by locking her in a small bathroom for a month).

Since the Chicago Moms Blog is being taken down, I've saved my post here as well.

I never in a million years thought I would be writing this. Saying this. Even thinking this. I'm an animal lover. A former foster mom and volunteer at the Anti-Cruelty Society and an adoption coordinator at the Animal Care League.

But here it is: my cat may have to go.

Tallulah is a sweet, personable cat. I fostered her when she was an 8 week old kitten, undernourished and riddled with fleas and worms. We nursed her back to health in the bathroom of our apartment, our first cat growling outside the door.

Needless to say, she never made it to the adoption floor. She formed a congenial relationship with cat #1--more friendly college roomies than BFFs--and seemed to adjust as we moved from a 1-bedroom apartment to a 2-bedroom condo to a 3-bedroom house. She's now 10 years old.

Kids arrived and Tallulah tolerated their clumsy advances more graciously than our other cat. As our firstborn child matured, they formed an enduring bond. So when I hear Z say "Tallulah's my best friend," my heart breaks.

Because as agreeable as this fluffy muted calico can be, she has one habit that makes her existence in our home untenable: She poops outside her box. Daily. Let me tell you, cleaning cat shit up off the floor gets old. Especially after four years.

We've tried everything. Elimination diets featuring super expensive wet food. Elimination diets featuring super expensive dry food. Different kinds of litter. Additional litter boxes. Antibiotics. Enzyme cleaners. Carpet cleaners. We've invested hundreds--probably thousands--of dollars trying to figure out why she's continuing to crap on the floor and cleaning up said floor.

My husband took her to the vet again this week for another round of pricey tests. If once again there's nothing wrong, the next step is exploratory surgery. And there I'm drawing the line. I will not subject my cat (and my bank account) to a surgeon's knife with no guarantee of answers or a cure.

So I've placed a call to the Anti-Cruelty Society. The surrender department transfered me to a behavioral therapist and I left her a voice mail. I can only hope she'll find a fix to our problem. Because I never imagined I'd been one of them. A person who gives up her pet.

Random (happy) updates

Tonight I'm hosting a Fall Clothing Swap. You may recall I did this for the first time back in the Spring and it was a roaring success. Should be even more fun now that a) I know what I'm doing and b) I'm bringing in a woman to do mani-pedis! Now before you think I've gone all Hollywood starlet on you, I'm not paying for people to get their nails done--but $30 for both when all your shopping and drinking is free is a damned good deal, and my friends seem to recognize that.

Yesterday my agency team (about 60 of us) had an outing/party at the Art Institute's stunning new Modern Wing. I was stuffed from my Bin 36 burger lunch, so I didn't pig out on the cheese and nut platter like I normally would have, but the combination of fine contemporary art and wonderful colleagues made for a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon and evening. I went home all happy, warm and tingly in spite of the wet, cold weather. Happiness equals a few glasses of wine, hearing that one lovely co-worker is pregnant and another is hoping to be soon, and being paid the world's nicest compliment.

Which, in case you were wondering is "You're beautiful." Followed by 5 minutes of expounding and reiterating the hows and ways of your beauty by a tipsy, good-looking gay man who's also a freaking creative genius.

In other awesome news, we're finally replacing our peeling, dull orange laminate countertops with granite, installing a subway tile backsplash and getting a new kitchen sink and faucet.

And I made it to the gym 5 times in the last 2 weeks. That's about 5 times more than I did the entire previous month. I'm on a roll, people!

"Dad's dead."

"Dad's dead."

The opening line of Jonathan Tropper's new novel, This Is Where I Leave You, brought me back 7 years to May of 2002. It was a Saturday morning and I was at home in our apartment in Lincoln Park when the phone rang. I answered it in Josh's office--a small second bedroom cluttered with a deck and wall-to-wall CD shelves.

My mother was on the other line. She was calling me from a satellite phone from a hilltop in Albania. "Joe--Dad--he's dead. We were hiking...I went ahead...He collapsed...I ran back...Chest compressions..."

My father died of a heart attack. He was 55 years old.

The days that followed were a blur. Since Dad was the U.S. Ambassador to Albania and a popular figure in that small Mediterranean country, my mom needed to focus on honoring his memory there. She asked me to help coordinate a memorial service Stateside. A liaison from the State Department would be calling me to help. "Would it be okay if we had it at Dacor-Bacon House?" Mom asked, her voice strained and the connection crackling, "I can't think of anywhere else. Will it ruin your wedding memories?"

I assured her it wouldn't. Her next request was tougher. "Can you call Grandma Marge and the relatives?" Calling my nearly-deaf grandmother to tell her that her beloved son had died was unbelievably hard, but at that moment I was willing to do anything to shoulder some--any--of my mother's pain.

My sister and her fiance flew in from Australia. Friends and relatives gathered in Washington, D.C. My mother proved, once again, she's no shrinking violet. Where others might have collapsed in a heap of tears and sorrow, she showed fierce determination to get. things. done. She located photographs. She donated my dad's clothes. She made speeches and thanked well-wishers. Hell, she was back in the U.S. in less than a week, where she proceeded to buy a car, find a place to live and figure out what the second half of her life might look like.

Unlike the dysfunctional family in Tropper's book, we didn't sit shiva for Dad. He wasn't Jewish, so Mom went ahead and had his remains cremated. Some of them are still in a box in her living room, but thanks in part to my pestering, the rest of Dad's dust rests behind a bronze plaque at a cemetery not far from Mom's house.

This post was inspired by the Silicon Valley Moms Group book club. We each receive a copy of the book selection and write a related blog post (not a review). I haven't exactly finished This Is Where I Leave You, but I'm halfway through and enjoying it--although it reads like an funny/earnest/uncomfortable indie movie script. Think a masculine Rachel Getting Married.

Flu shots!

Josh and I got our flu shots weeks ago at Dominick's and Walgreens, but you can't get a little kid a flu shot at a pharmacy, so it was off to the doctor's office with the girls this morning for immunization against the regular flu. H1N1 gets all the publicity, what with a 14 year old Chicago area girl dying from the disease this week, but those vaccinations aren't available yet.

Both sisters knew they were going in for shots, but I'm not sure A understood exactly what a shot was because, dude, the girl was excited. Here's the evidence, shot on grainy Blackberry video.

Z was calm but a little nervous. And so very brave. She turned away and sucked on her lollipop until the very last moment, when she just about grabbed knocked the needle right out of her thigh. She spilled a few tears, which got A upset and anxious to get the hell away from the nurse, but as soon as we were done and the nurse said "stickers," the A quit crying and headed off to pick out her reward--a Snow White sticker that I had to wear.

All afternoon the girls complained about how much their left legs ached--A more than Z because she refused to take any ibuprofen. A's definitely got a dramatic streak--she limped around half-naked so that anyone and everyone could see her Band-Aid and hear how it came to be: "I went to doctor...got an owie. Dey give me flu shot. In my weg. You see my Band-Aid? I brave. I only cry a widdle while. I got a lollipop."

On a side note, if you haven't gotten your flu shot yet, do it at Walgreens. My agency is responsible for their current flu shot campaign, and I helped out a bit with the winning pitch!

Morning madness

This is pretty much what breakfast time looks like at our house. Finishing your cereal comes in a distant second to playing with your sister. Also, what's up with iMovie trying to make my home movie letterboxed? It chops off their heads!

Z's latest masterpieces

Where's that tranquilizing gun when I need it?

Thursday evening: Stuck at the Cincinnati airport, then stuck on a plane. Then the plane broke and it started to rain. I spent an unscheduled night at the Cincinnati Marriott with no extra clothes, an ill-fitting contact lense and a dwindling supply of tampons. For those keeping track, my luck with United is not improving. Let's hope our upcoming trip to Sydney breaks the curse.

Friday: My morning flight back to Chicago was delayed, again, but I gave myself permission to work from home so I could change into fresh clothes and see the eye doctor. We had friends over for Indian carry-out and all of our kids played well, so that was a plus.

Saturday: Intermittent rain all day and an ongoing weariness from poor sleep on the road means the kids spend 15 hours finding new and creative ways of whining, making noise and invading my personal space and it annoys the hell out of me. They were re-lent-less. By 7pm, Z was all but scaling the walls with cabin fever, so I threw A in the Ergo and put Z on her bike and we went for a walk/ride in the dark, cool drizzle. "I'm getting my ya-yas out," she hollered for the first 4 blocks. By block 5 she was slowing down, and by the time we got home she was ready put on her jammies, brush her teeth and sit down at the dining room table to help me craft her birthday party invitations.

Josh and I tried to convince her to have a party at the local ice cream parlor, where there would be room to invite all her friends, but she opted for a smaller, girls-only "almost sleepover" at our place.

The Nestle Family twitstorm

I've been in the Nati for the past two days, where, in addition to presenting some kickass work and attending a brainstorm with my clients, I've been sampling Skyline Chili and Graeter's ice cream, watching Glee from a giant bathtub at the Cincinnatian Hotel and following the #Nestlefamily twitstorm.

You see, Nestle invited a bunch of parent bloggers to their headquarters for two days. They are far from the first major packaged goods company to invite bloggers in for a little wining and dining. The mom blogger junkets started in earnest with Johnson & Johnson's Camp Baby (which I was invited to but didn't attend back in early 2008), and since then Kraft, Campbell's, General Mills and Frito-Lay have all feted well-known mom bloggers.

As a marketer, I think the mom blogger invitationals are brilliant. For the cost of a few plane tickets, samples and meals, you get hundreds of media mentions and an instant brand ambassador with huge reach. It's a bargain. You also get to focus group these women (and a few men) and find out what's important to them, culling information you can use for product development, advertising and a variety of other purposes.

But what do the mombloggers get out it, aside from a free trip and a chance to hang with friends? Are they building their visibility and personal brand at the cost of being viewed as a sellout? And, in the case of the Nestle invitational, are they shilling for a corporation many view as unethical?

Like most people, I'm aware of the horrors Nestle inflicted in the third world in the 1970s and 80s with its aggressive marketing of infant formula. I saw it with my own eyes when I lived in Pakistan in the late 1980s. But I thought things had changed. Phd in Parenting, in this exhaustive post, claims abuses continue and challenges bloggers to decline Nestle's invitation or at least ask the company some tough questions while there.

For those who complain that mommybloggers are a bunch of navel-gazing ninnies (as some have with regard to the Motrin Moms twitstorm), behold the discussion of Nestle's corporate ethics that emerged on Twitter yesterday under the #nestlefamily hashtag. A few well-meaning moms were raising real questions about global issues to a company that said it wanted to open the channels of communication, but it quickly devolved into a shouting match pitting breastfeeding advocates against defensive formula feeders who perhaps didn't understand that formula feeding can be extremely dangerous in a country where access to safe, clean water isn't guaranteed or where parents might run out of funds for formula and end up watering it down to save money.

Peppered between these posts were silly little tweets from attendees talking up Nesquik, Stouffer's meals and cake mix recipes and psycho crackpots accusing Nestle of supporting infanticide and child labor. It was train wreck, in my opinion.

Shortly after I posted this, friend and fellow Chicago Moms Blogger Kim Moldofsky tweeted me with "I was waiting for the part about what to do next time or lessons learned." I'm not sure I have any real answers. What I do know is that bloggers love attention (I'm no exception). So when a big, multi-national corporation romances us, we get a little weak in the knees. It's easy to get swept off your feet in a flurry of four-star hotel stays, airline tickets and gifts. But take it from someone who knows what's happening on the brand side: don't be a cheap date. Don't tweet and blog free word-of-mouth because you've been wined and dined and you're so very much in love. Do your do diligence (research, ask tough questions, demand better products and service) and then, if you're still the brand's number 1 fan, by all means sing their praises from the rooftops.

Worth reading:

Crunchy Domestic Goddess: Did we learn anything from the Nestle Family Twitter-storm?

Pop Discourse: On Bloggers, Breastfeeding, Formula, Mortality, Change and the Nestle Family Event