For a new twist on “Ding Dong the Witch is Dead,” watch my girls in action. This video was lovingly filmed by Papa.
Category Archives: Frazzled Working Mom’s Fleeting Moments (2007-2013)
Mom, I’m Turkeyed Out
This is Chloe, after the long Thanksgiving weekend. Children beware – if you eat more turkey and sweets than you’re little tummies can handle, you’re at risk too.
A Nice Day
Chloe and I took the bus into Manhattan today, and walked from the Port Authority down to Chelsea to meet some relatives for brunch and a gallery tour.
We hadn’t been to the city together in a long time – but I really enjoyed being with her today. Our stroll down 8th Avenue was not the most interesting (unless you like peep shows) walk in the city, but Chloe didn’t complain once, which was extraordinary because we walked over 20 blocks.
She even enjoyed the galleries – although a couple of shows were, unbeknownst to us beforehand, a little risque. Chloe was particularly shocked by a photograph that depicted a very large woman, with correspondingly large breasts, revealing a little too much skin around her boobs in order to show off a tattoo. And another artist depicted some nude figures, which made her laugh in the way 7-year olds laugh when they’re confronted with pictures of naked people.
Happy Turkey Day
Our annual family Thanksgiving at my mom’s place was lovely, as usual. There were a couple of notable absences, however. My aunt and uncle, who usually join us for the occasion, were understandably recovering and resting at home after the rollercoaster of my grandmother’s final couple of weeks in Florida. Their daughter and her husband, who moved to California earlier this year, were also greatly missed.
For the first time in a long time, this meant that my father’s side of the family was not represented at the table, and the repast wasn’t quite the same. We all enjoyed lots of laughs this evening with my mother’s sister and her family, and my brother and his wife, but it was definitely a little quieter than usual.
Sophie was out of sorts – we think she may be coming down with a cold. She didn’t eat anything for dinner, but she did have enough energy to watch countless clips from the “Wizard of Oz” on the computer. Her new favorite song – “Ding Dong the Witch is Dead.”
Chloe discovered the game of Boggle, and had almost all of us playing at one point or another before the big meal. She lost most of the rounds, but she didn’t mind. She made up new spellings for words, but she didn’t mind that either. In fact, it was one of the few games that Chloe didn’t mind losing – and she even said so before we started playing.
Tomorrow is Black Friday and I’ve never gone shopping on Black Friday. I’m turning 40 in a couple of weeks and feel like I should experience at least one Black Friday before hitting the big milestone. But I think I’ll skip it – I know my limitations, one of which is patience. I have none, and I think I’d need a lot of it to survive the throngs.
Drunken Cowgirl Sophie
This photo says it all. Drunken cowgirl Sophie. Not the most flattering picture, but I like it all the same. She was probably dizzy from running around the house too much. Either that or she had overdosed on milk.
We rediscovered these hats when we cleaned out the sunroom, which needs to undergo major repairs because of structural deficiencies. Tens of thousands of dollars in repairs. Home ownership sucks.
I am now waiting for the rest of the house to crumble. To become an archeological ruin, just like the ancient homes of Pompei. In the meantime, Chloe and Sophie continue to dance around the house, stomping our domicile further into the ground.
I am trying to look on the bright side of this – at least we’ll have a spanking new sunroom. New windows. New electricity. Insulation for the first time ever. Whoo hoo!
My Chloe
People always tell me that Chloe looks a lot like me, but until recently I never really saw the resemblance. Yes, we both have thick hair – but her hair is not as dark as mine. Her eyes are hazel and mine are deep brown. Her features, when taken together, reflect a good mix of her mother and father – neither one of us overpowering the other in her reflection.
But over the weekend, while looking through hundreds of old photos in Nanny’s apartment, I came across an album documenting the young lives of my grandparents’ four grandchildren, including me. I came face to face with a photo of me, taken when I was about Chloe’s age now. And maybe it was the angle or the lighting or the pose or some combination of all of those things.
But I did a double-take when I saw it – because I didn’t recognize me at first, I recognized my dear Chloe. The nose in that old photo was like Chloe’s nose, the hair like Chloe’s hair. The expression not too different from one I’ve seen on Chloe’s face time and time again. It was eerie to see my little girl reflected in that 30+ year-old photo.
Yet at the same time, it was kind of neat. I can’t wait to show the picture to her – I think she’ll be mightily surprised. Will she think it’s cool, or will she be grossed out? Will she be proud (while she’s still young enough to be proud of her mom) or a little embarrassed that she looks so much like me?
Sophie Says “Cheese!”
After the difficulty and sadness of the last couple of weeks, this video brought a grin to my face. Sophie is a dancer and a budding lyricist – you will win a prize if you can decipher her nonsensical “Jabberwocky”-like poetry. Be sure to watch until the end, when she’ll treat you to her very own brand of sunshine.
My Last Night at Nanny’s
It’s very strange to think that after 30 years, I will never be returning to Nanny & Poppy’s apartment – it will be the end of an era tomorrow when I walk down the catwalk at their condo for the last time. It’s funny how the condo aged with my grandparents over the years. Even though new retirees have moved in, the vibrancy of the place that I remember from when I was a kid doesn’t exist anymore. The shuffleboard courts have faded away, the tennis club was shuttered years ago, people no longer crowd by the pool to play cards and discuss where to go for early bird dinner…
We all eulogized Nanny today – my aunt, my mom, my brother and my two cousins – and we did her proud. We all used vastly different words and memories to describe what she represented to us, and it was quite beautiful.
As we start to sift through the drawers and the closets, finding treasures in piles of old letters and photo albums, we realize that our little Miss Neat hoarded everything – and managed to keep her inability to throw anything away a secret from us all.
Nanny Died
Peacefully, I’m told, late last night. I’m glad she wasn’t in pain when it happened, and that she’s not suffering anymore. The funeral is on Sunday afternoon, and the rabbi who’s officiating sent me (and the other grandchildren) a list of questions – typical questions, I guess, about who she was and how she lived her life.
But I don’t think I can answer them – at least not in the traditional way. I’ve written in this blog about my memories of her, and those are what I’m thinking about now. What kind of grandmother was she? Well, she was our Nanny. She was Miss Neat. She was the garbage can at dinner time. She spoiled us rotten when we came to visit and fattened us up by feeding us the junk that our parents would never let us eat. She was happy if we were happy. She was adored by her family and her friends.
She hated change. She had the same books sitting on the shelves in her den in Florida for the 30 years she lived there. She had the same lucite candy box, lucite phone holder in the kitchen and lucite tissue box in the bathroom for the 30 years she lived there (and that’s just a sampling). The same patio furniture and fake plants. The same towels and sheets and blankets (with a few exceptions). The same broken table lamp in the den that was a hazard to all who had the misfortune of butting up against it. The paint on the walls in the apartment was original to the place (other than a couple of small paint jobs in the kitchen and bathrooms). The carpet was the same carpet that came with the apartment. She finally caved in and got a microwave a couple of years ago – well into the 21st century – and a cell phone.
She hated change, but she loved her family more than anything, and always took particular pride in her grandchildren and more recently, great grandchildren. She loved to see us, loved to hear from us and regaled in the exploits of the youngest generation – Chloe, Sophie, Hannah and Naomi. The one thing that did change regularly in her apartment was the quantity of photos. The same old photos hung on the walls, but every spare space on her dresser, on the dining room buffet, on the lucite wall unit in the den was covered in photos – many of them recent additions as her grandchildren started to have children of their own.
I like to think that those photos gave her strength as she was starting to weaken. That even when she was alone, she wasn’t lonely – that she knew in her heart how much we all loved her and kept her in our thoughts, even though we were so very far away.
Sophie Empowered
My Empowering Sophie experiment on Tuesday worked! About an hour after leaving her room, I went upstairs and she had turned off her light and fallen asleep.
So I tried it again last night, and it worked. No crying, no Sophie coming downstairs to complain. Have I found the magic potion? Probably not – if I’m being honest, I don’t give this miracle more than another day or two. It’s been way too easy.
The progress made on the going to bed front, didn’t translate, however, into progress on the let’s sleep through the night front. She woke up again in the middle of the night – twice. Oh well. It’s time for more tough love – we need to start ignoring her – let her scream and wake up the neighborhood.