Friday, August 22, 2008

Could you maybe not mention that to the Rabbi?

A few months ago Anna decided her life's dream was to drive. Once she understood that there was an age rule for that particular luxury, she started asking other kids no matter what age they looked, "Are you sixteen?" She'd see other drivers on the road and ask me if they were sixteen. She'd tell total strangers how much she wanted to drive but that she couldn't yet because she's only three but when she turns sixteen she was definitely going to drive. I think that was the first time she truly grasped the idea of getting to do new things as she gets older. Prior to this epiphany she just thought that grownup/adult things were just things she couldn't have/do.

Since that time she enjoys talking about all the things she can do when she grows up. Obviously these conversations are often spurred by things she's watching us do. Last week she saw me putting knives away from the dishwasher and she told me that knives are dangerous and can give her a boo-boo so she can't have one until she grows up. Sure, no problem agreeing with that statement. Such a reasonable child!

Flash forward to earlier this week in the car on the way to the preschool open house. The preschool where no one has yet met my darling precocious daughters. The preschool that is located in a synagogue. The open house that the Rabbi will be attending. I am driving along sipping my diet coke which in Anna-speak is soda-that-I-can't-have-until-I'm-grown-up. As I pull into the synagogue parking lot Anna pipes up from the backseat: "Mommy, someday I will grow up and drink wine and beer and have a knife!"

As I clear the diet coke from my nostrils I send up a quick prayer that she fails to mention this dream to her new teachers.

Sunday, August 17, 2008


I have this awesome friend Holly. She is one of those friends who just totally gets me, whether I'm bragging about my kids or crying over some random drama. Best of all, she understands that there is simply no moment in life that does not call for a glass of wine.

Which is why I knew I could share with her the hideousness of my last big wine-related mistake. Over the phone I gave her all the gory details - spent the whole day in the sun, took some unfamiliar medication, did not drink water, drank some wine that was poured out into large plastic cups, yadda yadda yadda, passed out in our vacation hotel room, waking only to vomit profusely. (And that, dear readers, is all I will ever write about last Saturday night, period.) During this phone conversation I express my horror over the whole incident, as it is the first time in my life that I have ever thrown up as a result of alcohol consumption.

Holly's response? A sincerely joyful I am so proud of you! This is exactly why we are friends.