Category Archives: Treasures from the Archives

Frazzled Working Mom's Fleeting Moments (2007-2013)

Happy Hanukkah!

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One candle down, only seven more to go. As you can see from the photo, the girls were very excited about Hanukkah. We started out the evening listening to an entertaining song about the holiday written and performed by my cousins. We then lit the candles.

It was finally time to open the presents. I decided that there would be a theme this year: reading and writing. Tonight’s gifts were personalized pencil cases and pencils, a little electric pencil sharpener, and little notebooks.

Chloe is definitely her father’s daughter. She loves gadgets. So she loved the pencil sharpener. But Sophie is also her father’s daughter. And there was only one pencil sharpener. There were some screams, and some tugging. But Chloe let Sophie have a turn, and as quickly as you can say Maccabees, first crisis averted. I promptly put the gizmo away in a safe place out of Sophie’s sight, for Chloe to use as needed.

Shortly afterwards, we all sat down at the dining room table while Chloe completed her homework. It was then that Sophie realized that her notebook was different from Chloe’s. Mommy was wearing her stupid hat when she bought those little books. What was I thinking? Sophie preferred Chloe’s because it had colored paper inside, and hers only had lined white paper. When I tried to explain why her notebook was so terrific – that it had lined paper and stars on the cover (Sophie loves stars, and she especially loves singing “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star”), she made her toddler psycho face and threw her notebook onto the floor.

I sometimes think Chloe is smarter than me when it comes to handling her little sister. Here I was trying to reason with my little girl for the umpteenth time. But you don’t reason with 2-year olds! And here was my big girl, Chloe, who came to the rescue again. She allowed Sophie to borrow her notebook for a few minutes, and what do you know, second (and last) crisis averted. Needless to say, Chloe’s success in appeasing Sophie was Chloe’s perfect Hanukkah gift to me.

Frazzled Working Mom's Fleeting Moments (2007-2013)

Let It Snow!

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We had our first more-than-just-flurries snowfall today, and the girls regaled themselves sledding; Sophie for the first time.

I hate the winter and the snow, so I stayed inside to (1) nurse a cold, (2) do laundry (truly, I never thought this would be me at 39, but best-laid plans…), (3) belatedly order snowpants for Chloe since I thought I’d have at least another few weeks before she’d need them and (4) frantically try to wrap holiday presents before the girls returned to find me in flagrante delicto (and not in the sex sense, just the gift-wrapping sense).

Sophie was visibly excited about the white stuff; Chloe just a tiny bit blasé – all of those years of experience, you know. My husband thankfully noted how glad he was that we didn’t live in Canada, because it must have taken about 20 minutes just to get the two girls ready to go outside. Imagine having to do that everyday…

It’s one of those dreary, eerily quiet kind of Sundays. And it’s only December 2. Granted, we had an amazing spring, summer and fall, so who am I to complain? But it’s going to be an extremely long winter, if today’s weather is any indication of what the future holds. I’ve been thinking of taking a trip down to Florida in a couple of weeks to visit my ailing grandmother. That idea is becoming more appealing by the hour. Sunshine, here I come!

Frazzled Working Mom's Fleeting Moments (2007-2013)

Yahoo!

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No, this entry has nothing to do with internet Yahoo! This is a story about our girls’ pre-bedtime ritual, which we lovingly call “Yahoo!” After much anticipation, the movie displaying the gleeful tomfoolery of Chloe, Sophie and their Papa is now available (see below).

I usually sit out this tradition, as it involves a bit of running, a lot of yelling, and some gentle throwing onto a bed – a potent mix for trouble that I tend to avoid like the plague lest someone get hurt. But Chloe recruited me the other day to film the ritual for blog posterity (she was indeed disappointed after I informed her that the original film was no good – her mommy is no Steven Spielberg). Here’s how it goes:

Papa sits on the bed in the attic. Chloe goes first, because Chloe always goes first. After yelling “one, two, three, GO!,” she starts running from the other side of the room towards the bed. As she approaches the outstretched arms of her dad, we all yell “Yahoo!” Papa then lifts her up over his head, and she flies through the air onto the mattress behind him.

Sophie goes next. She’s learning to count and has mastered “one, two, three, GO!” Luckily, she doesn’t have to count past three, because in her world, three is followed directly by ten, which is followed by nine. “One, two, three, ten, nine…” But that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, Sophie counts to three, and starts to run (and she’s really fast for a stubby-legged two-year old), we yell “Yahoo!,” and Papa tosses her onto the bed.

The girls, of course, are bursting with giggles and pre-bedtime energy. Papa is bursting with back pain. But no matter, Chloe and Sophie eventually go off to sleep as happy and tired as can be, and the adults in the household have a quiet evening to themselves. Yahoo!

Frazzled Working Mom's Fleeting Moments (2007-2013)

About Nothing

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After posting 27 different stories about my kids over the last month, I find myself in a strange position. I don’t know what to write about tonight. The kiddies haven’t said or done anything particularly eventful, so following are some gentle stream-of-consciousness (à la André Breton and the French surrealists of the early 20th century, but with a dose of self-censorship on my part – since this is a family blog, after all – of which Breton would never approve,) musings about not much at all.

Sophie did say “love you” at one point a few hours ago, but she’s done that before. And she’s talking more clearly, using a vocabulary that expands by the day. She frolicked in the puddles on the way to the bus stop this morning and got very wet (Chloe never did such childish things). She pulled the pillows off the couch and improvised a bed on the floor. She had trouble falling asleep at naptime, and held court with herself for close to an hour before finally succumbing to her fatigue. Sophie has discovered the joys of privacy and suddenly likes to keep the door to the sunroom closed in order to make mischief without parental supervision.

Chloe came home from school with a new spelling journal. She has her first spelling test on Friday, with ‘short a’ words like cat, man, catch, at and an. She made a lovely thank-you card with intricate bubble letters (and a good amount of white-out) for a cousin who gave her a collection of books.

We told Chloe that she would be having a veggie burger for dinner tonight (it’s one of the only ways we can get vegetables into her tummy), but she is waging a veggie burger strike as I write this. It’s fifteen minutes until bedtime. She may end up going to bed hungry for the first time. I am sensing weakness on her part, however. I think she will cave because she’s starting to groan. Then again, she is her mother’s daughter and she is awfully stubborn. It’s now five minutes until bedtime and she’s still groaning. I’m starting to lose hope. It’s now five minutes past bedtime. The groaning continues unabated, now accompanied by manipulative tears. Almost 1/2 hour past bedtime, and she’s resorted to bargaining tactics. I’m starting to feel guilty, but I must remain strong. Am I to become one of those mean parents who sends her children to bed without eating? Is this the beginning of lifetime therapy for Chloe, mood-enhancing drugs, promiscuous sex? All because of a veggie burger? That would be truly pathetic.

Veggie burger update: Chloe finally agreed to eat about 1/2 of a veggie burger accompanied by pear slices at 8:45 pm. I guess her belly convinced her that she was getting nowhere by being stubborn, except hungrier.
Frazzled Working Mom's Fleeting Moments (2007-2013)

Sisterly Love

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What can I say? As much as I write about the kiddies and their “you’re driving me crazy” behavior, there is one thing about the duo that warms the cockles of my heart (I’ve always wanted the opportunity to use such a silly-sounding cliché), and reassures my husband and me that we must be doing something right. It’s their unfettered love for one another.

Over the long Thanksgiving weekend, many family members remarked on Chloe’s behavior towards little Sophie. While Chloe never hesitates to let us know when she’s upset with us (and much to our chagrin, she never hesitates to express such dissatisfaction in front of hordes of other people), she rarely exhibits anger with her sister. It does happen occasionally, of course, but she generally treats her sister with nothing but kindness and tenderness.

It’s the little things. If Sophie covets a toy that Chloe is using, Chloe is usually happy to share it with her sister. If Sophie is crying, Chloe will approach Sophie and ask her why. If Sophie needs help on the playground equipment, Chloe is there. If Sophie is jumping on the bed, Chloe is happy to join in the fun.

And Sophie idolizes her big sister. Whatever Chloe is doing, Sophie wants to do, too. She wants to eat whatever Chloe eats (it’s unfortunate that it’s not the other way around, because Sophie could teach Chloe a few things about enjoying good food). If Chloe is upset, she’ll shed crocodile tears in solidarity with her grande soeur. If Chloe likes a song, Sophie will joyfully dance to it. You get my point.

Truth be told, this sibling lovefest is unfamiliar territory for me. When my brother and I were kids, we endlessly tortured each other. Tickling combined with wet kisses was my favorite method; practicing Hulk Hogan-style wrestling moves on me was his preferred m.o. I am somewhat ashamed to admit that we didn’t start getting along until he visited me at college and realized that his sister knew how to have fun, too.
Needless to say, it’s a good thing those sibling rivalry genes don’t seem to have been inherited by my girls, who are off to a much more propitious start than my brother and me. Here’s hoping it lasts.

Frazzled Working Mom's Fleeting Moments (2007-2013)

Monopoly

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It all started a couple years ago with a French version of kids’ Monopoly that Chloe’s aunt sent for Christmas. My big girl mastered it in no time. While we don’t play it as much as we used to, she and I played the other day. I lost in record time.

We were at my mom’s again today to spend some more time with my visiting family, when Chloe found an adult Monopoly (it was actually a knock-off) in my mom’s closet that had never been opened. It was a New York City version of the game that we knew to be at least 7 years old, since one of the more expensive properties for sale was the World Trade Center.

She started to play with one of her older cousins. The cousin’s token was a legendary New York style pretzel, and Chloe’s was the Empire State Building. She quickly took to the complexities of the game, and was soon making deals to trade and buy my cousin’s cards in order to increase the number of her monopolies. When the two took a break about an hour later, I think my cousin had a bit more cash on hand than Chloe did, and it looked as if the game was at a standstill.

Enter cousin #2 to relieve cousin #1. He confidently claimed that he was hyper-competitive when it came to Monopoly, and gladly took over. Chloe didn’t know what she was getting into. Or did she? I went in to see her shortly after they resumed play, and the first thing I noticed was all the money she had in front of her. And all the deed cards. My hyper-competitive cousin (who will be graduating from an Ivy League law school in May) had about $20 left to his name.

He was a little sullen, and claimed the reason for his woeful state was that he had taken one too many risks. Sure, cousin. Rationalize all you want. But face it. While your 7-year old cousin’s gaming resembled the bold (and profitable) moves of Goldman Sachs during the ongoing subprime mortgage crisis, your own strategizing was more like Citigroup‘s recent performance – simply not a pretty sight to behold.
Frazzled Working Mom's Fleeting Moments (2007-2013)

He’s Not Rich Enough

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While we’ve established that Sophie may not be a toddler genius, Chloe is, without a doubt, a political savant.

During our annual Thanksgiving dinner at my Mom’s place, Chloe amused everyone by showing off her vast knowledge of trivia. She asked everyone at the table to ask her questions. They ran the gamut:

What’s the capital of France? What’s the capital of the United States? What’s the capital of New Jersey? Who was the first President of the United States? What was the name of the ship the Pilgrims sailed to America? Who is the current U.S. President? As a bonus, Chloe threw in the names of Bush’s daughters and cat.

After a few rounds of family-style “Jeopardy,” someone asked her whom she would like to see as the next President. “Papa” was her heartwarming response (perhaps if Hillary Clinton gets elected, her response next time will be “Mommy”). The question that followed was “Why can’t your papa be President?” Expecting her to quote Article I, Section 2 of the U.S. Constitution verbatim, thereby gently reminding everyone that her Papa can’t be President because he’s not American, she did one better. Her response was simple, yet so incredibly astute, that we all were momentarily stunned into silence, before bursting into fits of laughter. Papa can’t be President, she confidently replied, “because he’s not rich enough.”

What this says about the state of our country’s political process when a 7-year old comes out with that doozy is beyond me. Watch out, all you highly-paid TV pundits. Chloe is close on your heels.

(For a related and timely article, click here)

Frazzled Working Mom's Fleeting Moments (2007-2013)

Genius?

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For about one minute earlier this evening, I thought my little Sophie was a genius.

Chloe and I had started playing a game of Rummikub and were in the process of selecting and organizing our tiles. Sophie partook in the fun by choosing tiles of her own.

As we were getting ready to make our first moves, Sophie pointed to one of Chloe’s tiles and exclaimed, “10!” She did that a few times before I realized what was happening, and when I looked at tile she was eyeing, it was indeed a 10.

I was amazed. My husband, who was watching this scene unfold, just snickered (that’s because he’s French). When he suggested that we ask Sophie to identify the numbers on other tiles, I readily complied.

And faster than a snap of the fingers, my dream (ok, that’s not really my dream) of her being the youngest member of Mensa was quickly deflated. For Sophie, all of the other tiles were 2s or 3s, regardless of the actual number displayed.

And then I remembered. This is a toddler whose aptitude for counting by numbers goes something like this: “oneee, twooooo, threeeee, nineeeee, tennnn” (I’ll have to add audio to provide readers the full effect). Admittedly, not a bad start for a two-year old. But I won’t be sending in her application for MIT anytime soon.

Frazzled Working Mom's Fleeting Moments (2007-2013)

Tenacious C

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No, this post is not about Jack Black’s musical alter ego, Tenacious D. This entry is actually about my tenacious Chloe.

Earlier today, the first morning after receiving her no-TV-for-three-days punishment, Chloe played games on the computer. One of her favorite sites is Funbrain, which is supposedly educational. And some of it is indeed minimally pedagogical.

Anyway, she decided to make her way through an “arcade” of different games, where you can’t move on to the next game in the series until you’ve conquered the current game. She was proceeding along nicely until “Mighty Girl.” The concept is cute enough in theory – a young girl draws a pencil cartoon in her math journal, and the cartoon comes to life for the game. Mighty Girl has to overcome obstacles by running past them, jumping over them or ducking from them. Chloe hit a roadblock. She couldn’t get past the third screen and was growing increasingly frustrated at her inability to finish.

But the thing is, with Chloe it’s never just simple expressions of frustration. It’s always accompanied by tears, yelling (specifically, that my computer “stinks!” – which, I am ashamed to admit, she learned from me, because I can’t stand our laptop), banging and lots of tears.
Yet, she would not give up. I told her to play a different game. “But if I don’t finish this game, I won’t be able to move ahead in the arcade.” I told her to take a break from “Mighty Girl” and try it again after school. That reasonable comment earned me a scornful glare. When none of my words of wisdom calmed her down, I resorted to threats: “If you continue to act like this, not only will you be grounded from TV for 3 days, but you’ll also be grounded from the computer.” That didn’t help much, either.

I even tried the game myself. But I was never very good at video games, and I thought this one was just plain stupid in its execution.

With minutes to spare before my having to plead with her (yes, it makes me crazy that I have to plead with her at all) to stop playing and get ready to walk to the bus stop, and after what seemed like 1,000 “Mighty Girl” fatal injuries (the character gets crushed by loose, rolling wheels, among other things), she conquered the game. I was pretty impressed. Not impressed with her behavior, mind you. But fairly amazed by her ability to work through the tears and master the game.
She’s started to ask me about Nintendo Wii, but I say, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Frazzled Working Mom's Fleeting Moments (2007-2013)

Hess Trucks

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A few years ago, in an effort to show Chloe that toy trucks aren’t just for boys, my mother bought her a Hess toy truck for the holidays. It’s really cool – a big semi that holds two speedy racecars with reverse friction motors. Chloe was amused by it for a bit, and then we relegated it to the basement when she tired of its play quotient.

We took it out again for Sophie’s enjoyment, and I’m happy to report that she thinks it’s the coolest thing since no-crust sliced bread. Especially those little cars. This morning we spent some time playing racecar roly-poly, zooming the car back and forth to each other. “Awesome!” she exclaimed (of course, when I asked her to repeat the word, since it was the first time I had heard her use it, she refused with a big self-satisfied grin). We had a grand old time together.

Hess annually releases a new collectible truck for the holidays, and this year’s model is a monster truck with two motorcycles. The name of the truck is particularly a propos, given our little Sophie’s sometimes monstrous behavior, so I plan to buy it in order to further inculcate our little one in the importance of not falling prey to gender stereotypes. The lesson won’t be coming too soon. A few minutes after our truck bonding experience, she was brushing the hair of the figurines in Chloe’s My Little Pony collection. Oh, well. At least her interests are varied.