It's May, and you know what that means. Oh wait, you don't.

It's a bit early for a Mother's Day post, but then again what better way to differentiate oneself! And yes, we realize this is strange written in the third person. No one's forcing you to read, is all we're sayin'.

Today is May.

First, you're welcome for sharing what we're sure is surprising news to y'all.

 

But second, we'd like to spend a few serious moments describing what May means to us as May will forever be inextricably linked to Mother's day.  See, we lost our own in early May. We remember the day she died. The day before she died. The cruelly beautiful and sunny Sunday that we tossed a shovelful of dirt into the ground. The cruel irony of burying her on the special day we had previously dedicated to the joy of drinking tequila. Sacrilege! And then, one week later, Mother's Day, which seemed at the time to be an unbearable punishment from the universe. 

Still, at the same time, it also seemed an appropriate time to symbolically acknowledge this loss. For that reason, we chose to unveil her tombstone on Mother's Day. That was one year later, one month past the official 11-month Jewish morning period, and though the constant, overwhelming grief had subsided, the intensity had not, and we recall wondering just how much longer that would take. 11 months was not enough. Who were these "forefathers" kidding? And while we were at it - why 11, specifically? Why not 6, or 12, or even 13, which is always a favorite number in Judaism? We couldn't help think that 11 was such an arbitrary number. Did they know something we didn't? Or were they just full of it, making it up as they went along - like the rest of us. Or - what if we were the stupid ones, what if we misinterpreted it and it was suppose to be years, not months?

Of course we'd forgotten that brilliant piece of inner dialogue soon after we had it until today. Now here we are back in May again. The month she passed. The month she was buried. The month where Hallmark shoves our loss in our face over and over each year. Not to worry - we've since forgiven Hallmark given that Mother's Day has evolved from a painful holiday to a bittersweet one as we take a day to reflect on the joys and trials of our own motherhood. So it's with all that in mind that 11 years, several jobs, new friends, even more adventures, one child and one ex-husband later, for the very first time, we had to be reminded it was our mother's Yartzheit. Shit, really? Talk about embarrassing.

Humiliation aside, there is a point to this.  Well, sort of.  We're concluding (to put this all in marketing terms so you peeps understand) that it takes 11 years to fully mourn the loss of a close loved one. Well, at least as much as one can. N of 1, of course, but we figure since marketing is more art than science we're okay there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Can these two symbols coexist? Maybe they can....maybe they really can!

 

 

This week we'll observe the anniversary traditionally by lighting a candle and saying the mourner's kaddish*.  We may or may not enjoy some tequila in her honor this Friday as well, but we digress.  Overall, though, we'll spend our month trying to honor the memory of the best woman we've ever known, and the precocious child whose name honors her grandmother's. If we can be even half the mother that ours was, then mini will turn out just fine.

 

 

*Important note: "Kaddish" is apparently in Google's spell check.  You heard it here first.

The Renovation Chronicles: Week One (Part 2)

This one is titled "we did everything wrong".

This is the post where we scream "why on earth did we possibly think this was a good idea!"  No, really.  When we thought this might be a little too big a project for one person, perhaps we should have listened. 

The token "during" shot

And now, the reality of living on the generosity of others (and their couches, trundles and sofas) for one, two weeks or more.  The reality of living like nomad with that unsettled feeling of no home base to go to.   The reality of royally pissing off the painters and the contractor before they even started because, well, apparently it IS too much for a single working parent to pack up an entire apartment solo so while everything was in boxes the boxes weren't exactly closed (we tried! The tape came undone with the heat overnight!), boxes weren't pushed to the middle of the room (we needed to walk around! plus they were heavy!), there were still some things on the walls (also super heavy!), and while the plastic mattress covers were on top of the beds, we hadn't actually put the mattresses in the covers (you try lifting a mattress by yourself! It ain't easy peeps!).  

Apparently "I really did the best I could" doesn't cut it with these guys.

Of course, the other reason they were not happy is because the furniture-less living room we promised them didn't exactly pan out.  Of course, that wasn't really our fault, since the charity we donated to didn't really pick it up the Friday before like they promised.  Which royally pissed off our employer who wa'nt too happy with us taking a day off for nothing.

Cue the lifesaving babysitter who stayed two days later to oversee the furniture pickup that finally arrived.  Cue customer service man number 327 who stayed on the phone with us for hours and tolerated our repeated calls so we could get an update on the truck's whereabouts.  And cue rejection of.....

Wait, what? Wha you say? Yes, rejection.  Apparently our couch was so bad even the charity rejected it when they saw it.  Luckily for us the painters offered to carry the sorry thing downstairs six flights of stairs to the trash for the low, low price of $200.  Which made the $50 counter-bid our super gave us suddenly seem attractive.

It wasn't all bad, though.  There was a nice moment when our (still royally pissed) contractor called us to tell us that the new TV we needed to buy that he was going to hang on the wall was too big a job on that particular wall and he recommends just using a stand like the one we had on the old TV.  Which we had already given away to our babysitter thinking we'd buy a thinner and lighter one......oh wait, maybe that wasn't good news after all.

Sigh. So there you have it.  However it's not all disaster.  Despite not knowing when we can move back in (was supposed to be one and half weeks), despite being clueless about the progress (we're terrified to look so resorting to sending spies) we apparently did one thing right, so we shall pass that lesson on to you.  If you remember ONE thing this is the lesson to learn.

Grease the super.

Even if the contractor will, do it anyway.  Chances are, you'll need him, even if you don't know why or when yet.  And we shudder to think where we'd be right now if we didn't.

Stay tuned for more renovation chronicles, where we wonder why our stuff seems to have tripled when we attempt to unpack it,  where we sit in an empty living room and dining room with nothing in either but a card table and two folding chairs, and when we encounter other "fun" surprises.  

We look forward to the post where one day, looking back, we don't actually regret this project.  A girl can dream....

The Renovation Chronicles: Week One (Part 1)

We are about to take you on an adventure.

Well, not really.  But we are about to go through our first ever "renovation" of our current home.  Why, you ask? Well,  the "let's throw it on and see" paint color we picked years ago didn't really work and it's time to admit that (note to self: dingy brown looks just like it sounds).  The giant holes of plaster in our walls where the paint has long since peeled are begging to be painted.  And for some strange reason people say after 10 years we should have painted again already.  And finally, if all that's not enough, we may have to sell someday.  You know, when the money runs out.

So there's your reasons.  Now in order to not horrify a potential buyer with the low standards we've had for years, we realized we'd have to at minimum paint, patch the giant holes of plaster in the wall, take care of those cracks in the floor, fix the outlet that's always burning out, and replace the molding shower caulk that was so eroded everything got wet all the time anyway.  And while we're at it, let's get some grown up furniture in here - you know, a dining table that isn't 15 years old and seats only two, a couch that isn't littered with tears and breast milk stains...you get the idea (Yes, we just said "breast milk stains". Get over it.)

No problem, we've got time on our hands right now.  Single working mothers have nothing but time on their hands.  Wait, what's that? They don't.  Huh.  Guess taking this on solo was probably not the brightest idea we've ever had, and after the first 24+ hours of this we're realizing just how in over our heads we are.  So where does that leave you?  Well, we figure at the very least our tales of annoyance over should entertain someone out there.

Now, we know we should stop whining.  All homeowners have been through renovations; it's the downside of owning vs. renting (or the upside, if you like that sort of thing).  And at least we have our health, and running water, and food and all that.  But the next two-four + weeks will still be chaos.

Manhattan-dwellers will understand; it's a special kind of crazy over here.  Everything is a million* times more expensive because of insurance, permits, small spaces.  Painting a small apartment is kind of hard where there's no where to put your furniture.  And being that we don't live in that fabulous park avenue apartment or brownstone we dreamed about last night, there's no "extra" room or floor to live in.

And with no experience here it's kind of like flying blind.  What have we messed up already?  Well, for starters, taking the furniture peeps at face value.  Apparently when they say 12 weeks they mean maybe kinda sorta 12 weeks but might be 4, 5 months too.  More on that later.

Meanwhile, here we sit in our apartment, work about to start Monday, took off from work as the old couch was getting picked up Friday to give the painters room -- and, the call comes that they're not coming to pick it up.  Ah yes.  Boss will be thrilled when we take another day off.  On the plus side, it gives us time to wait  for a plumber to fix a leak that decided to spring this week in our bathroom 65 year old pipes.

The token "before" shot.  

Yes, good times ahead, peeps.  Stay tuned as we continue to pack up our entire apartment into boxes in one day, while simultaneously doing enough laundry to last in a suitcase for 2-3 weeks at the same time.  For two people.  As our nanny said this morning when she stopped by to take the TV home, "it simply can't be done!"  Wait, why did she leave....?  Can't anyone help pack these boxes? What will we do now?

Stay tuned for part 2....


*you DO recognize hyperbole when you see it, don't you?  Of course you do.  But for the one guy who inevitably won't, our lawyer says we need a disclaimer.  And by "lawyer" we mean the voices in our head.

Bye Bye to an Old Friend

He was a  trusted friend for over 10 years.

Worked furiously to help me make mini's first birthday cake when we had no idea how to bake without eggs.  Helped us try countless cookie and recipes, letting us know which worked best.  Sat patiently while we worked on batches of frosting upon frosting, not caring that he was sticky and covered in cocoa powder everywhere.

He helped us with baby showers for friends and coworkers.  Helped mini eat healthy food when we discovered pumpkin protein bread, zucchini bread, and spinach muffins.  He brought warmth, comfort, tradition to every holiday, helping us with everything from hamentaschen to honey cake.  He was our secret weapon for the perfect apple pies at Thanksgiving, and homemade whipped cream.

It was because of him that oatmeal chocolate chip cookies for the doormen on Christmas and entertained children on playdates brilliantly for short bursts of time.

In short, he was always there when we needed him.

And then, suddenly......he was gone.  Just. Like. That.

First came the smell.  That awful, chemical smell.  Then, the sound, as if he were in constant pain.  And then, in the middle of one last batch of hamentaschen, he slowed down, whimpered, and was out for the count.

And that's the story of how our hand mixer died.

Yes, we can get a new one for $20, and probably should have at least 5 years ago, but it will never be the same.  Goodbye, dear friend.  Please take good care of our trusty toaster oven, who is on life support and will inevitably join you soon.

Bakers will understand.

2013: The Year of the Month-Long Purim

Perhaps it's just us, but does Purim seem to have gotten hopped up on steroids this year?

The holiday is one day, yet it seems to have gone on forever.  In fact, the holiday has barely started and we're already Purim'd out.  How'd that happen?

We have some theories.



Exhibit One: Purim Carnivals going on for weeks.

For some reason, this is the year several people decided to hold Purim festivities on alternate dates in order to boost attendance.  After all, it's impossible to attend your school, synagogue, and local community center carnival all in one day!  So for practical purposes the dates were sandwiched before and after the holiday.  Of course, with Purim being redonculously early this year, the alternate dates fell over winter break, meaning no one would be around to celebrate, rendering the alternate date futile.  The solution? Push it back earlier.  The result?  Purim carnivals scattered from Feb 10th all the way to March 3rd.

Exhibit Two: Purim is super trendy this year.

For some reason, Purim was a hot topic this year.  Maybe it was the explosion of social media, generating Jew-envy amongst those forced to look at droolworthy picture after picture of hamentaschen on Pinterest.  Maybe it was the party and celebration invites being spread like wildfire.   Or maybe it was the intersection of Purim's relevance to current sentiments and values in our culture, inspiring articles such as Why I like Purim as a Queer, Secular Jew and this book on Jewish superheroes.  Regardless of the reason, you know it's trendy when secular entities like Bed & Bath and Slate are tweeting hamentaschen recipes.

Eclectic hamentaschen photos swept Facebook and Pinterest this year

#Purim was also hot topic on Twitter this year, with tweets every minute from all over the world.

We wonder if all the people tweeting this photo for #Purim even know who Haman was

Exhibit Three:  Increasing number of friends with children + Quality education in Jewish preschools + waitlists in public schools everywhere = more Purim costumes than ever before.

'Nuff said on that one.

What we'll be stylin' on Purim this year.  

So, to sum up, like the torture we endure when Christmas tzotchkes get put out before Halloween has even ended, Purim seems to be going the way of overkill as well.  We have to wonder, at what point does the holiday start to lose its impact?  That would be truly a shame, because it really is a great holiday.

Mini once asked us why we don't celebrate birthdays every day.  It would make every day special!  Or would it......

Simple, amateur hamantaschen.  Just right.

Happy Purim, peeps.  But not too happy, if you know what we mean.