Monday, December 28, 2009

Conversations with a Toddler: The one that proves 3yo is FFB*

*FFB = frum from birth, ortho-lingo for raised religious.

I wasn't raised with religion. I know that sounds hard to believe, but since my parents wanted me to make my own decisions about religion we didn't discuss or participate in religion until I was in high school and my dad worried we'd fall prey to some cult if we didn't have some kind of background in something to pull from.

Well, today I had a conversation with my 3year-old that I couldn't have participated in until after I was 20 years old.

dd: How can Aba (daddy) be the king?

me: Because he's the Aba of the house, that makes him king.

dd: But how can there be two kings?

Already a deep concept.

me: There aren't two kings, Aba is the king and Ima (me, mommy) is the queen. That's it.

dd: But Hashem (G-d) is the King.

Stunned silence.

me: That's true, Hashem is the King of the whole world and Aba is king of this house.

Wow. So exciting and validating to know my children are getting a head start on all the questioning I navigated in college. Course I hope I always know the right thing to say even when I don't have the answers!

*FFB = frum from birth, ortho-lingo for raised religious.

I wasn't raised with religion. I know that sounds hard to believe, but since my parents wanted me to make my own decisions about religion we didn't discuss or participate in religion until I was in high school and my dad worried we'd fall prey to some cult if we didn't have some kind of background in something to pull from.

Well, today I had a conversation with my 3year-old that I couldn't have participated in until after I was 20 years old.

dd: How can Aba (daddy) be the king?

me: Because he's the Aba of the house, that makes him king.

dd: But how can there be two kings?

Already a deep concept.

me: There aren't two kings, Aba is the king and Ima (me, mommy) is the queen. That's it.

dd: But Hashem (G-d) is the King.

Stunned silence.

me: That's true, Hashem is the King of the whole world and Aba is king of this house.

Wow. So exciting and validating to know my children are getting a head start on all the questioning I navigated in college. Course I hope I always know the right thing to say even when I don't have the answers!

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Judging favorably: The toddler edition

We have no shortage of night wakenings here even though my "baby" is two years old. Generally it's my three year old with a night terror once or twice and while startling, they don't require any act on my part besides a comforting "shush shush." Last night it was the lil man, screaming with blood curdling effectiveness that a child works to perfect just to keep mommy on her toes and her hair on end. I went in and the poor thing was thrashing about moaning "the butterfly, the butterfly" the same way a horror movie actor would repeat the zombies, the butler, the horror, etc. The idea gave me a chuckle and a pretty funny mental image of Attack of the Killer Butterflies. I calmed him down with a little tummy rubbing and a few good patronizing "Mommy won't let the butterflies hurt you" thrown in for good measure. What an imagination! I thought.

I returned to my comfy spot on the couch still smiling at the idea that the poor babe was scared of butterflies. Twenty minutes later I was attacked by the butterfly, which was in fact a low flying stink bug! It buzzed aggressively, dived bombed me a few times before settling in the nearby light fixture only venturing out when I thought I was safe to give a few more buzzes before landing in a different location. Definitely startled any smugness or patronizing mommy knows best feelings right outta my noggin!

Butterfly. Nope.
Dangerous. Nope.
Buzzing, winged creature that would scare the pants off someone sleeping or relaxing in the dark. YOU BETCHA!


We have no shortage of night wakenings here even though my "baby" is two years old. Generally it's my three year old with a night terror once or twice and while startling, they don't require any act on my part besides a comforting "shush shush." Last night it was the lil man, screaming with blood curdling effectiveness that a child works to perfect just to keep mommy on her toes and her hair on end. I went in and the poor thing was thrashing about moaning "the butterfly, the butterfly" the same way a horror movie actor would repeat the zombies, the butler, the horror, etc. The idea gave me a chuckle and a pretty funny mental image of Attack of the Killer Butterflies. I calmed him down with a little tummy rubbing and a few good patronizing "Mommy won't let the butterflies hurt you" thrown in for good measure. What an imagination! I thought.


I returned to my comfy spot on the couch still smiling at the idea that the poor babe was scared of butterflies. Twenty minutes later I was attacked by the butterfly, which was in fact a low flying stink bug! It buzzed aggressively, dived bombed me a few times before settling in the nearby light fixture only venturing out when I thought I was safe to give a few more buzzes before landing in a different location. Definitely startled any smugness or patronizing mommy knows best feelings right outta my noggin!

Butterfly. Nope.
Dangerous. Nope.
Buzzing, winged creature that would scare the pants off someone sleeping or relaxing in the dark. YOU BETCHA!


Thursday, November 19, 2009

Advice needed: Restless Sleeper Toddler Syndrome

My 3yo spend the first year of her life swaddled. She was a restless sleeper even then and being swaddled helped keep her asleep. Now she is a big 3yo who sleeps on a mattress on the floor. Actually she starts out on a mattress on the floor but can be found almost anywhere in her room as she rolls, scoots, crawls, spins, wiggles, shakes, inchworms in her sleep. She wakes up when she bumps something we haven't figured out how to pad or cushion. She talks, cries, yells, babbles, whimpers, whispers, all with her little baby face screwed up in sleepy confusion. Often when passing by her room after 10pm I see her awake, peering around her door watching and listening to what's going on in the house, the lure of the lights and sounds of her parents partying while she sleeps too much to resist.

But now she won't nap during the day. So she's even more tired. Earlier bedtimes just mean earlier wakeup times. I've tried reasoning, consequences like no playdates or library time for tired kids. Elmo watching is also reserved for kids who sleep. I'm not as good at swaddling as hubsters is, so that doesn't work if he's not home. Pause for a minute to imagine a 3yo swaddled in a comforter, it's pretty funny! Of course she screams if I try it, so the funny moment is fleeting.

We've tried running around like nutters so she'll collapse in exhaustion, she can outlast her baby brother and her mommy at that! We have a bedtime routine, going to bed isn't the problem, it's having peaceful sleep the whole night that's the problem. She doesn't wake me up, so that's not my motivation either. I'm out of ideas, can I borrow one?

My 3yo spend the first year of her life swaddled. She was a restless sleeper even then and being swaddled helped keep her asleep. Now she is a big 3yo who sleeps on a mattress on the floor. Actually she starts out on a mattress on the floor but can be found almost anywhere in her room as she rolls, scoots, crawls, spins, wiggles, shakes, inchworms in her sleep. She wakes up when she bumps something we haven't figured out how to pad or cushion. She talks, cries, yells, babbles, whimpers, whispers, all with her little baby face screwed up in sleepy confusion. Often when passing by her room after 10pm I see her awake, peering around her door watching and listening to what's going on in the house, the lure of the lights and sounds of her parents partying while she sleeps too much to resist.


But now she won't nap during the day. So she's even more tired. Earlier bedtimes just mean earlier wakeup times. I've tried reasoning, consequences like no playdates or library time for tired kids. Elmo watching is also reserved for kids who sleep. I'm not as good at swaddling as hubsters is, so that doesn't work if he's not home. Pause for a minute to imagine a 3yo swaddled in a comforter, it's pretty funny! Of course she screams if I try it, so the funny moment is fleeting.

We've tried running around like nutters so she'll collapse in exhaustion, she can outlast her baby brother and her mommy at that! We have a bedtime routine, going to bed isn't the problem, it's having peaceful sleep the whole night that's the problem. She doesn't wake me up, so that's not my motivation either. I'm out of ideas, can I borrow one?

Monday, November 16, 2009

101 things to feed a toddler

Step one: Find something the toddler eats
Step two: Feed it to them
Step three: repeat 100 times

Today my two toddlers are home sick (more about that later I'm sure). They are pretty consistent in their breakfasting habits. They choose from:
  • yogurt drunk through a straw or eaten with cheerios/corn flakes mixed in and a spoon
  • peanut butter sandwiches (with or without the crust depending on the direction of the wind, the phase of the moon, and the current adjusted for inflation price of tea in China)
  • oatmeal - plain oatmeal with raisins, a dash of cinnamon, a dash of honey, and occasionally a handful of cheerios or cornflakes. There is no accounting for taste when it comes to a toddler.
Well, lunch time just rolled around and I offered the usual. They both wanted oatmeal. The same thing they ate for breakfast. We haven't left the house and the whole thing is giving me a Groundhog Day feeling. They must get it from their father who had egg sandwiches for breakfast and dinner last night.

Step one: Find something the toddler eats
Step two: Feed it to them
Step three: repeat 100 times

Today my two toddlers are home sick (more about that later I'm sure). They are pretty consistent in their breakfasting habits. They choose from:
  • yogurt drunk through a straw or eaten with cheerios/corn flakes mixed in and a spoon
  • peanut butter sandwiches (with or without the crust depending on the direction of the wind, the phase of the moon, and the current adjusted for inflation price of tea in China)
  • oatmeal - plain oatmeal with raisins, a dash of cinnamon, a dash of honey, and occasionally a handful of cheerios or cornflakes. There is no accounting for taste when it comes to a toddler.
Well, lunch time just rolled around and I offered the usual. They both wanted oatmeal. The same thing they ate for breakfast. We haven't left the house and the whole thing is giving me a Groundhog Day feeling. They must get it from their father who had egg sandwiches for breakfast and dinner last night.

Saturday, November 7, 2009

When technology fails us, do we fail?

We are only human. We need technology to accomplish many things that are beyond our grasp. When that technology fails, we feel powerless, full of the knowledge that there are just some things we cannot do, cannot control, no matter how many buttons we have our fingers on.

What brought about this feeling of powerlessness I felt today wasn't anything earth shattering, but that didn't soften the blow any. The fact that even something mundane as lunch could be ruined by a technological malfunction just made me feel even more frustrated. Cars break down, computers blue screen, things fail. But the powerstrip that my slowcooker, loaded with what should have been lunch, was plugged into? When even something as small as that is out of my control, it is definitely a reminder that we are only human, and even the machines we build, the fires we kindle, anything we create from a paper airplane to a jumbo jet are guided by another force.

When I discovered my slowcooker off, my chicken still raw, I said to myself "how did people do this before electricity? I should have had the soup on the fire instead, stupid technology." And then I remembered that fires can go out, my ancestors probably also had their share of thrown together cold lunches after something happened out of their control. Thank G-d we had some salad, canned beans, soup in a carton. It was a veritable vegetarian feast in the end.

Our power as humans is to take the materials G-d gives us and create something from it. Not the same as creating something out of nothing, we are just human after all, but to take the situation we have and the materials and resources and talents we are given, and produce. Yes, as a mother I felt the pressure to feed my family, as a perfectionist I felt the stress and disappointment of my planned meal falling to pieces, as a Texan meat-eater I was less than thrilled not to have "real" food and settle for what food eats. But we had a beautiful Shabbos meal with lovely flavors, great conversation, and even a little ice cream for dessert. I'm going to keep telling myself that and hopefully I'll eventually drown out the other voices that keep harping on how I failed.

We are only human. We need technology to accomplish many things that are beyond our grasp. When that technology fails, we feel powerless, full of the knowledge that there are just some things we cannot do, cannot control, no matter how many buttons we have our fingers on.


What brought about this feeling of powerlessness I felt today wasn't anything earth shattering, but that didn't soften the blow any. The fact that even something mundane as lunch could be ruined by a technological malfunction just made me feel even more frustrated. Cars break down, computers blue screen, things fail. But the powerstrip that my slowcooker, loaded with what should have been lunch, was plugged into? When even something as small as that is out of my control, it is definitely a reminder that we are only human, and even the machines we build, the fires we kindle, anything we create from a paper airplane to a jumbo jet are guided by another force.

When I discovered my slowcooker off, my chicken still raw, I said to myself "how did people do this before electricity? I should have had the soup on the fire instead, stupid technology." And then I remembered that fires can go out, my ancestors probably also had their share of thrown together cold lunches after something happened out of their control. Thank G-d we had some salad, canned beans, soup in a carton. It was a veritable vegetarian feast in the end.

Our power as humans is to take the materials G-d gives us and create something from it. Not the same as creating something out of nothing, we are just human after all, but to take the situation we have and the materials and resources and talents we are given, and produce. Yes, as a mother I felt the pressure to feed my family, as a perfectionist I felt the stress and disappointment of my planned meal falling to pieces, as a Texan meat-eater I was less than thrilled not to have "real" food and settle for what food eats. But we had a beautiful Shabbos meal with lovely flavors, great conversation, and even a little ice cream for dessert. I'm going to keep telling myself that and hopefully I'll eventually drown out the other voices that keep harping on how I failed.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Sourdough starter

I am so excited to try again with making my own sourdough starter. I learned about if from Hannah over at CookingManager. com and I was doing ok until someone accidentally threw it away :( But this time will be different! There are less people in the house (last time we were temporarily living with my parents) and again I will have Hannah's help remembering to stir and eventually feed my little starter.

If you want to follow along first head over to cookingmanager and get the instructions. Then you can jump over to Facebook to sign up for the page and get the reminders. And away we go!

I am so excited to try again with making my own sourdough starter. I learned about if from Hannah over at CookingManager. com and I was doing ok until someone accidentally threw it away :( But this time will be different! There are less people in the house (last time we were temporarily living with my parents) and again I will have Hannah's help remembering to stir and eventually feed my little starter.


If you want to follow along first head over to cookingmanager and get the instructions. Then you can jump over to Facebook to sign up for the page and get the reminders. And away we go!

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Double agent veggie muffins

I love this recipe. It can be made with a variety of fruits and veggies, can be baked into muffins or cake, frosted or unfrosted, whole wheat or white, and still taste amazing! My toddlers especially love them, and that alone would make this a winner.

As sent by my friend Tehilla:

Preheat oven to 325.

Mix all these in one bowl:
3 eggs, 1 cup oil, 2 cups sugar, 2 cups hand-grated zucchini (grates very easily), and 2 tsp vanilla.

In another bowl:
3 cups sifted flour, 3 tsp cinnamon, 1 tsp baking soda, 1/4 tsp of baking powder, 1/4 tsp salt.

Combine into one bowl and put into greased and lightly floured pan. Bake at 325 for 60-70 minutes or until done. (I think mine always bakes less)

I always use a 9 x 13. Hand mixed.

You can use carrot, zucchini, pumpkin, squash, yam/sweet potato, banana, apples, pears. You can add nuts, chocolate chips, raisins, other dried fruit. You could sub apple sauce for part or all of the oil.

If you blend the zucchini rather than shred it, the green color will be easier to hide if you have eagle-eyed skeptics like my hubsters.

I love this recipe. It can be made with a variety of fruits and veggies, can be baked into muffins or cake, frosted or unfrosted, whole wheat or white, and still taste amazing! My toddlers especially love them, and that alone would make this a winner.


As sent by my friend Tehilla:

Preheat oven to 325.

Mix all these in one bowl:
3 eggs, 1 cup oil, 2 cups sugar, 2 cups hand-grated zucchini (grates very easily), and 2 tsp vanilla.

In another bowl:
3 cups sifted flour, 3 tsp cinnamon, 1 tsp baking soda, 1/4 tsp of baking powder, 1/4 tsp salt.

Combine into one bowl and put into greased and lightly floured pan. Bake at 325 for 60-70 minutes or until done. (I think mine always bakes less)

I always use a 9 x 13. Hand mixed.

You can use carrot, zucchini, pumpkin, squash, yam/sweet potato, banana, apples, pears. You can add nuts, chocolate chips, raisins, other dried fruit. You could sub apple sauce for part or all of the oil.

If you blend the zucchini rather than shred it, the green color will be easier to hide if you have eagle-eyed skeptics like my hubsters.

Toddler approved packed lunch ideas

I know I am blessed in many ways, one of which is that no matter how annoying & fickle my toddlers can be at meal time, they are still considered amazingly good eaters when measured on the toddler scale from "lives on air" to "eats everything in sight as long as it isn't broken in half or touching anything else."

We are further limited by the school's rules which include no nut products and no meat.

It's still a struggle to find things that are consistently finished when I go to empty the lunch boxes at the end of the day. I only do easy peasey recipes. Here are a few vegetarian, nut free ideas:

Always eaten:
  • tuna & cream cheese filled puffs. The puffs are sold By Athens are come precooked & frozen.
  • Zucchini muffins (link to my recipe)
  • pasta tossed with olive oil, frozen corn, cherry tomatoes, & avocado (Awa doesn't like tomatoes, so she eats around or I leave out) and possibly cheese
  • whole wheat tortillas filled with cream cheese & spinach
  • Morningstar Farms Chik patties
  • leftover pizza
  • pizza sandwich (Awa takes off the cheese)
  • cream cheese & jelly sandwich
  • pancakes
  • raisins
  • string cheese
  • boiled eggs
  • cubed melon
  • oranges
  • jello cups
Sometimes eaten:
  • apples
  • bananas
  • plain cream cheese sandwiches
  • rice cakes
  • baggie of dry cereal
  • salmon patties
NOT eaten:
  • tomato sauce sandwich (surprising since it's the same as the pizza one without the cheese and that's what Awa eats when she removes the cheese)
  • chummus sandwich, unexpected since they both love to dip into chummus.

I know I am blessed in many ways, one of which is that no matter how annoying & fickle my toddlers can be at meal time, they are still considered amazingly good eaters when measured on the toddler scale from "lives on air" to "eats everything in sight as long as it isn't broken in half or touching anything else."


We are further limited by the school's rules which include no nut products and no meat.

It's still a struggle to find things that are consistently finished when I go to empty the lunch boxes at the end of the day. I only do easy peasey recipes. Here are a few vegetarian, nut free ideas:

Always eaten:
  • tuna & cream cheese filled puffs. The puffs are sold By Athens are come precooked & frozen.
  • Zucchini muffins (link to my recipe)
  • pasta tossed with olive oil, frozen corn, cherry tomatoes, & avocado (Awa doesn't like tomatoes, so she eats around or I leave out) and possibly cheese
  • whole wheat tortillas filled with cream cheese & spinach
  • Morningstar Farms Chik patties
  • leftover pizza
  • pizza sandwich (Awa takes off the cheese)
  • cream cheese & jelly sandwich
  • pancakes
  • raisins
  • string cheese
  • boiled eggs
  • cubed melon
  • oranges
  • jello cups
Sometimes eaten:
  • apples
  • bananas
  • plain cream cheese sandwiches
  • rice cakes
  • baggie of dry cereal
  • salmon patties
NOT eaten:
  • tomato sauce sandwich (surprising since it's the same as the pizza one without the cheese and that's what Awa eats when she removes the cheese)
  • chummus sandwich, unexpected since they both love to dip into chummus.

10 tips for Travelling with Toddlers: Part 1 Packing

I know the title of this blog (even with it's nifty alliteration) might seem like it could easily lend itself to a horror novel, I know it gives me the heebie jeebies just thinking about it! Yet I managed to survive moving cities, moving countries, moving states (by myself no less!), and visiting family overseas, plus frequent bus rides where it's just me, my two toddlers, a stroller, a diaperbag and a small scrap of sanity.

I don't always remember to do the things on this list, but when I do it sure does make everything go a bit more smoothly! One trick is to always have a little more of everything than you'll think you'll need, cuz something will happen and you will need it!

  1. Don't do laundry too close to your departure. You want their blankets, favorite items, etc to still smell familiar.
  2. If you are shipping things, make sure most of your kids' stuff comes with you, is shipped faster, or is at the front of the truck/container. You want to be able to set them up in the new place with as many familiar items as you possibly can. When we moved countries and had to sell many belongings, I sacrificed a few of my own things (cookbooks, gadgets, etc) to be able to take more kids' stuff. Some beloved items cannot be replaced, but if possibly close substitutes can fill the void.
  3. During travel have accessible (carry-on if possible):
    • a change of clothes for everyone (including parent as I once discovered, ick)
    • diapers & wipes, 2 baggies for garbage or soiled clothing
    • snacks - baggies of cheerios/small cereal, cheese, any non-messy filling food.
    • toys & books that require imaginative play or discovery so they keep small attentions longer. Our faves are magnadoodles, stickers, pretend cameras, crayons & paper

I know the title of this blog (even with it's nifty alliteration) might seem like it could easily lend itself to a horror novel, I know it gives me the heebie jeebies just thinking about it! Yet I managed to survive moving cities, moving countries, moving states (by myself no less!), and visiting family overseas, plus frequent bus rides where it's just me, my two toddlers, a stroller, a diaperbag and a small scrap of sanity.


I don't always remember to do the things on this list, but when I do it sure does make everything go a bit more smoothly! One trick is to always have a little more of everything than you'll think you'll need, cuz something will happen and you will need it!

  1. Don't do laundry too close to your departure. You want their blankets, favorite items, etc to still smell familiar.
  2. If you are shipping things, make sure most of your kids' stuff comes with you, is shipped faster, or is at the front of the truck/container. You want to be able to set them up in the new place with as many familiar items as you possibly can. When we moved countries and had to sell many belongings, I sacrificed a few of my own things (cookbooks, gadgets, etc) to be able to take more kids' stuff. Some beloved items cannot be replaced, but if possibly close substitutes can fill the void.
  3. During travel have accessible (carry-on if possible):
    • a change of clothes for everyone (including parent as I once discovered, ick)
    • diapers & wipes, 2 baggies for garbage or soiled clothing
    • snacks - baggies of cheerios/small cereal, cheese, any non-messy filling food.
    • toys & books that require imaginative play or discovery so they keep small attentions longer. Our faves are magnadoodles, stickers, pretend cameras, crayons & paper

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Yay! My first meme! Tagged by the lovely Hadassah.

The rules are:
  1. Open the 4th file where you store your photos
  2. Pick the 4th picture
  3. Explain the photo
  4. Pass the challenge on to 4 other bloggers
My picture:

My daughter Awa was livening up havdalah with a little oven mitt fun. The sight of her entire little arm inside the pot holder was too funny! Like a stumpy snowman. Hubsters was of course all business and ignored her.

Yay! My first meme! Tagged by the lovely Hadassah.


The rules are:
  1. Open the 4th file where you store your photos
  2. Pick the 4th picture
  3. Explain the photo
  4. Pass the challenge on to 4 other bloggers
My picture:

My daughter Awa was livening up havdalah with a little oven mitt fun. The sight of her entire little arm inside the pot holder was too funny! Like a stumpy snowman. Hubsters was of course all business and ignored her.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

I'm not slow, I'm just American Part 2




Where do a fish and a bird get married? In Israel of course! Or at least that's a great place for a Texan and a Brit to wed. Both sets of parents flew in, but no siblings or extended family. I met his parents for the first time four days before the wedding. We had a nice meal, a chat, and all went well. Or so I thought until I sat giving the recap to a British girlfriend of mine.

"What did you eat?" She demanded, knowing full well what I ordered every time I visited this particular restaurant.

"The spaghetti." I said haughtily.

"You didn't?!?!?" She exclaimed.

"It's too late, we're getting married. If they don't like the fact that I eat spaghetti with only a fork they have to just lump it." I reasoned, hoping to convince myself as well. I knew perfectly well from the English girls at seminary that eating spaghetti involved the use of a spoon & a lot less slurping than I can manage, even when I am on my best, most polite behavior.

Of course my friend swooned like a proper English girl does, at least as far as reading Jane Austen has lead me to believe.

The wedding did go on, despite my slurping and my husband decided that the next best step was to unleash his loud, uncouth American bride on the community at home. So a mere three weeks after our wedding we were headed to Old Blighty. The local shul had hired him to lead the holiday davening and even marrying out of their culture wouldn't have gotten him out of it. I was duly introduced at shul so I could be inspected by all after services.

"HOW DO YOU LIKE ENGLAND?" A sweet, old-fashioned British gentlemen yelled slowly at me.

"It seems very nice." I lied. The weather had been dismal. "This is my first visit."

A look of shock crossed his face as he realized I could not only understand English, I spoke fairly fluently. He'd apparently made assumptions about what a Hispanic last named, Texan living in Israel could manage.

Of course it had helped that he'd spoken loudly and slowly. Often there was a five-ten second lag in the conversation as I processed, translated, then responded to something that was being said. In America I'm known for my quick responses. In England, for talking too quickly and thinking too slowly.

I was truly confused by the occasional word that I thought I knew until I learned it had a completely different meaning in England.

Chips are now fries. A vest is an undershirt and what I knew as a vest is a waistcoat.

"But if a jumper was a sweater, what is a jumper?" I asked puzzled.

For a man with a mother and a sister, I expected more than a blank look from the hubsters. I repeated my question to my mother-in-law and described the article I meant.

"You know, a sleeveless dress that is worn over a shirt" I explained hopefully. As a lover of words, having a hole in my vocabulary was disconcerting.

"Oh, you could call that a pinafore I suppose" was the best she could offer. Unfortunately they also call aprons pinafores or pinny's so it's not quite as satisfying as I'd hoped.

Later, as the birth of our first approached my in-laws offered to buy us a cot. As touched as I was by their generosity and gesture of love, I asked my husband if they wouldn't want to put that money towards a crib instead since a cot is used for such a short period of time; generally from birth to six months. He told me to bring it up next time I spoke with my MIL (never a good idea). One slightly strained, uncomfortable and confusing conversation later, I realized that in England a cot was a crib and a crib was a cot. I'm pretty sure that the Queen has it out for me!

I should have been given a full translating dictionary with my kesubah (religious marriage certificate).

(to be continued, without end it seems!)




Where do a fish and a bird get married? In Israel of course! Or at least that's a great place for a Texan and a Brit to wed. Both sets of parents flew in, but no siblings or extended family. I met his parents for the first time four days before the wedding. We had a nice meal, a chat, and all went well. Or so I thought until I sat giving the recap to a British girlfriend of mine.


"What did you eat?" She demanded, knowing full well what I ordered every time I visited this particular restaurant.

"The spaghetti." I said haughtily.

"You didn't?!?!?" She exclaimed.

"It's too late, we're getting married. If they don't like the fact that I eat spaghetti with only a fork they have to just lump it." I reasoned, hoping to convince myself as well. I knew perfectly well from the English girls at seminary that eating spaghetti involved the use of a spoon & a lot less slurping than I can manage, even when I am on my best, most polite behavior.

Of course my friend swooned like a proper English girl does, at least as far as reading Jane Austen has lead me to believe.

The wedding did go on, despite my slurping and my husband decided that the next best step was to unleash his loud, uncouth American bride on the community at home. So a mere three weeks after our wedding we were headed to Old Blighty. The local shul had hired him to lead the holiday davening and even marrying out of their culture wouldn't have gotten him out of it. I was duly introduced at shul so I could be inspected by all after services.

"HOW DO YOU LIKE ENGLAND?" A sweet, old-fashioned British gentlemen yelled slowly at me.

"It seems very nice." I lied. The weather had been dismal. "This is my first visit."

A look of shock crossed his face as he realized I could not only understand English, I spoke fairly fluently. He'd apparently made assumptions about what a Hispanic last named, Texan living in Israel could manage.

Of course it had helped that he'd spoken loudly and slowly. Often there was a five-ten second lag in the conversation as I processed, translated, then responded to something that was being said. In America I'm known for my quick responses. In England, for talking too quickly and thinking too slowly.

I was truly confused by the occasional word that I thought I knew until I learned it had a completely different meaning in England.

Chips are now fries. A vest is an undershirt and what I knew as a vest is a waistcoat.

"But if a jumper was a sweater, what is a jumper?" I asked puzzled.

For a man with a mother and a sister, I expected more than a blank look from the hubsters. I repeated my question to my mother-in-law and described the article I meant.

"You know, a sleeveless dress that is worn over a shirt" I explained hopefully. As a lover of words, having a hole in my vocabulary was disconcerting.

"Oh, you could call that a pinafore I suppose" was the best she could offer. Unfortunately they also call aprons pinafores or pinny's so it's not quite as satisfying as I'd hoped.

Later, as the birth of our first approached my in-laws offered to buy us a cot. As touched as I was by their generosity and gesture of love, I asked my husband if they wouldn't want to put that money towards a crib instead since a cot is used for such a short period of time; generally from birth to six months. He told me to bring it up next time I spoke with my MIL (never a good idea). One slightly strained, uncomfortable and confusing conversation later, I realized that in England a cot was a crib and a crib was a cot. I'm pretty sure that the Queen has it out for me!

I should have been given a full translating dictionary with my kesubah (religious marriage certificate).

(to be continued, without end it seems!)

I'm not slow, I'm just American Part 1

What happens when a Puerto Rican Jew from the American south marries into a family who have a century of British history, the perfect cup of tea, lots of silverware, and impeccably ironed everything? Hilarity!

It all started when we were dating. My only exposure to the British culture came from my father's love of BBC America sitcoms and a few close friends in seminary. My husband knew enough from his family vacations and time at an American summer camp to decide he didn't want to date American girls. Somehow the matchmaker convinced him to give me a shot. On our second date I casually mentioned the word pants only to sputter, blush and gasp "You know I meant trousers!" Pants in the UK are underwear, not my usual conversation topic with a stranger, a stranger I was hoping to impress! Of course knowing to use the word trousers wasn't enough.

"So I need to go to Geula to buy some pantyhose, we could meet after that" I said innocently.

Silence as my date prayed the earth would open and swallow him as he blushed, horrified at my breach of panty etiquette.

I didn't even know of this faux pas until we were engaged. So what if I wanted to buy socks? Not a big deal, right? Oh so wrong!

Later that same date after some playful teasing on my part, future-hubsters had his own cross-cultural foot & mouth disease moment.

"Oh you're such a so-and-so!" He exclaimed.

"Did he just curse at me?" I thought, shocked. My heart stopped and all my conservative, southern indignation & ladylike sense of propriety flared into an inferno of oh-no-he-didn't anger, "So-and-so is a placeholder for a not nice word, right? It must means something different in England. No way would he call me a name, right?" He is very lucky my judging favorably flip switched at the last minute. Ok, I'm also pretty lucky that worked out!

Luckily our mutual love for Elvis, cheesecake, growth, Torah, sarcasm, and eventually each other lead us to be united in marriage, albeit divided by culture and a common language.

(to be continued)

What happens when a Puerto Rican Jew from the American south marries into a family who have a century of British history, the perfect cup of tea, lots of silverware, and impeccably ironed everything? Hilarity!


It all started when we were dating. My only exposure to the British culture came from my father's love of BBC America sitcoms and a few close friends in seminary. My husband knew enough from his family vacations and time at an American summer camp to decide he didn't want to date American girls. Somehow the matchmaker convinced him to give me a shot. On our second date I casually mentioned the word pants only to sputter, blush and gasp "You know I meant trousers!" Pants in the UK are underwear, not my usual conversation topic with a stranger, a stranger I was hoping to impress! Of course knowing to use the word trousers wasn't enough.

"So I need to go to Geula to buy some pantyhose, we could meet after that" I said innocently.

Silence as my date prayed the earth would open and swallow him as he blushed, horrified at my breach of panty etiquette.

I didn't even know of this faux pas until we were engaged. So what if I wanted to buy socks? Not a big deal, right? Oh so wrong!

Later that same date after some playful teasing on my part, future-hubsters had his own cross-cultural foot & mouth disease moment.

"Oh you're such a so-and-so!" He exclaimed.

"Did he just curse at me?" I thought, shocked. My heart stopped and all my conservative, southern indignation & ladylike sense of propriety flared into an inferno of oh-no-he-didn't anger, "So-and-so is a placeholder for a not nice word, right? It must means something different in England. No way would he call me a name, right?" He is very lucky my judging favorably flip switched at the last minute. Ok, I'm also pretty lucky that worked out!

Luckily our mutual love for Elvis, cheesecake, growth, Torah, sarcasm, and eventually each other lead us to be united in marriage, albeit divided by culture and a common language.

(to be continued)

Monday, August 3, 2009

Driving Miss Hatter

I don't drive. I never have. It's never really been an issue since I've always lived places with great public transportation. Now it's really putting a crimp in my social life, and not for the usual reason.

I have no problem getting most places on my own, even dragging a double stroller and miscellaneous packages. But my friends and neighbors feel an obligation to help me even though I never ask. And no one likes to feel obligated to help a nebach. Even a mistakenly classified nebach.

Now if I run into anyone out, they apologize for not being able to take me home. If I mention in passing a store I visited or something I bought, they apologize for not taking me. I'm contemplating turning down all offers of rides and letting it be known that not only am I happy to continue busing, that it's preferable to being a chauffeured leper. Better to have friends & good leg muscles, than convenience and uncomfortable interactions.

Anyone else find that people are uncomfortable with someone else's lacking something, even if nothing is being solicited? I know that being the receiver is hard, but is there something to the plight of the givers? Or should-be-a-giver guilt?

Is it harder to give or receive?

I don't drive. I never have. It's never really been an issue since I've always lived places with great public transportation. Now it's really putting a crimp in my social life, and not for the usual reason.


I have no problem getting most places on my own, even dragging a double stroller and miscellaneous packages. But my friends and neighbors feel an obligation to help me even though I never ask. And no one likes to feel obligated to help a nebach. Even a mistakenly classified nebach.

Now if I run into anyone out, they apologize for not being able to take me home. If I mention in passing a store I visited or something I bought, they apologize for not taking me. I'm contemplating turning down all offers of rides and letting it be known that not only am I happy to continue busing, that it's preferable to being a chauffeured leper. Better to have friends & good leg muscles, than convenience and uncomfortable interactions.

Anyone else find that people are uncomfortable with someone else's lacking something, even if nothing is being solicited? I know that being the receiver is hard, but is there something to the plight of the givers? Or should-be-a-giver guilt?

Is it harder to give or receive?

Friday, July 24, 2009

Learn how Google Maps can help your protest!

There were protesters outside of the hubsters' office again this week. If you remember from the last time it happened, he works at a bank, but his entire building is just for the credit card portion of the company. They do not foreclose on houses, don't have anything to do with health care let alone it's reform and they don't club baby seals. This does not stop protesters from congregating outside, brandishing signs and chanting. Or from slinking away sheepishly when they are told what company they are protesting in front of. Don't they hand out maps with the picket signs? Does more thought go into catchy slogans than in the choice of target?

Yay for freedom of speech though. Where else can it be so easy to protest that the policemen will give you directions to the correct location?

There were protesters outside of the hubsters' office again this week. If you remember from the last time it happened, he works at a bank, but his entire building is just for the credit card portion of the company. They do not foreclose on houses, don't have anything to do with health care let alone it's reform and they don't club baby seals. This does not stop protesters from congregating outside, brandishing signs and chanting. Or from slinking away sheepishly when they are told what company they are protesting in front of. Don't they hand out maps with the picket signs? Does more thought go into catchy slogans than in the choice of target?


Yay for freedom of speech though. Where else can it be so easy to protest that the policemen will give you directions to the correct location?

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Tot shabbat recap

B"H (Thank the L-rd Alm-ghty!!) I survived my first Tot Shabbat. We had no snacks, no handouts, and 10x the number of kids I was expecting thanks to a local bar mitzvah that brought people from all over the country into our little shul. The age range was much different than our usual group as well.

I have no idea how I will survive when my kids hit that "too cool" age where nothing is fun.

"This game is boring"
"I don't want to hear that book"
"This is for babies!"

I tried a bit of hubster's psychology on them and said that when you come to something expecting it to stink, you are rarely disappointed. How much better to come expecting fun! Who said you can't talk to children like adults? The change was slight as they creeped back into the activities and I integrated them into helper roles as a little balm on their mini-egos.

But after a few false starts we had a good time with games and stories. The singing didn't go over so well. I'm not very musical, I'm a BT who doesn't know too many Jewish songs in general, let alone kiddie ones, and I'm better accompanied by anything more than just the chirruping of crickets. And people thing the American Idol judges are harsh critics!

They may take the wind out of my sails, but they'll never take my dignity!

B"H (Thank the L-rd Alm-ghty!!) I survived my first Tot Shabbat. We had no snacks, no handouts, and 10x the number of kids I was expecting thanks to a local bar mitzvah that brought people from all over the country into our little shul. The age range was much different than our usual group as well.


I have no idea how I will survive when my kids hit that "too cool" age where nothing is fun.

"This game is boring"
"I don't want to hear that book"
"This is for babies!"

I tried a bit of hubster's psychology on them and said that when you come to something expecting it to stink, you are rarely disappointed. How much better to come expecting fun! Who said you can't talk to children like adults? The change was slight as they creeped back into the activities and I integrated them into helper roles as a little balm on their mini-egos.

But after a few false starts we had a good time with games and stories. The singing didn't go over so well. I'm not very musical, I'm a BT who doesn't know too many Jewish songs in general, let alone kiddie ones, and I'm better accompanied by anything more than just the chirruping of crickets. And people thing the American Idol judges are harsh critics!

They may take the wind out of my sails, but they'll never take my dignity!

1-2-3-4 You're protesting at the wrong door!

The hubsters and his coworkers watched in puzzlement while the protesters chant, wave signs, and march in front of their offices. They are protesting bank foreclosures and asking the bank hubsters works at to cease and desist kicking people out of their homes. A powerful argument, except for one thing. This bank doesn't give mortgages.

"I think they are from that ACORN group"one informs hubsters, who as a foreigner has no idea what that means.
"Do you think they are at the wrong address?" one office mate asks.
"Maybe someone should go tell them." says another.

Someone finally goes down and hubsters and the rest watch from their perch above as there is a little gesturing, pointing, then finally a sheepish retreat by the protesters. An unfortunate case of #protestfail

The hubsters and his coworkers watched in puzzlement while the protesters chant, wave signs, and march in front of their offices. They are protesting bank foreclosures and asking the bank hubsters works at to cease and desist kicking people out of their homes. A powerful argument, except for one thing. This bank doesn't give mortgages.


"I think they are from that ACORN group"one informs hubsters, who as a foreigner has no idea what that means.
"Do you think they are at the wrong address?" one office mate asks.
"Maybe someone should go tell them." says another.

Someone finally goes down and hubsters and the rest watch from their perch above as there is a little gesturing, pointing, then finally a sheepish retreat by the protesters. An unfortunate case of #protestfail

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Tot Shabbat ideas?

So the hubsters and I are excited to be more involved in our new community. One of the first things is that I am the new Tot Shabbat teacher. I have never led, nor attended a Tot Shabbat, but since I was willing & able that made me qualified enough I guess! Here's what I envision: a little davening by song, talk about the parsha, some games (maybe or maybe not shabbos/parsha related), then some more shabbos songs. I have no idea what ages will be there beyond my two toddlers and a few of the rabbi's kids. Anyone have any ideas? Anything I'm forgetting? Words of wisdom? They'd be much appreciated!

So the hubsters and I are excited to be more involved in our new community. One of the first things is that I am the new Tot Shabbat teacher. I have never led, nor attended a Tot Shabbat, but since I was willing & able that made me qualified enough I guess! Here's what I envision: a little davening by song, talk about the parsha, some games (maybe or maybe not shabbos/parsha related), then some more shabbos songs. I have no idea what ages will be there beyond my two toddlers and a few of the rabbi's kids. Anyone have any ideas? Anything I'm forgetting? Words of wisdom? They'd be much appreciated!

Monday, June 22, 2009

Droolworthy Doodads: The orange peeler



This is another gadget that I am oh so happy to posses: my orange peeler! I hate peeling oranges, the juice squirting everywhere, the orange/white crud that ends up all over my hands giving them a bitter taste, the sheer effort required to free the fruit from it's cute little packaging. This handy little device scores the peel into neat little rows which are then easily peel-offable. Yay! We have seriously increased our orange consumption since we got this bad boy. Scurvy, begone!



This is another gadget that I am oh so happy to posses: my orange peeler! I hate peeling oranges, the juice squirting everywhere, the orange/white crud that ends up all over my hands giving them a bitter taste, the sheer effort required to free the fruit from it's cute little packaging. This handy little device scores the peel into neat little rows which are then easily peel-offable. Yay! We have seriously increased our orange consumption since we got this bad boy. Scurvy, begone!

What's mine is mine & what's yours is mine: Struggling with toddler sharing






I keep telling myself that sharing will get easier and better once Awa and RE are older, but things have gotten only worse and more complicated lately. Awa is usually the culprit. If RE has something she wants it, no matter what it is.

It used to be that RE would wait patiently during the hostage negotiations for his toy and if they were unsuccessful would happily accept a replacement if the toy had to disappear for world peace. A baby can only be pushed so far apparently.

Now it's all screeching and WWF wrestling. I've bought different toys so they can be individuals, didn't work. I've bought identical toys to keep the green eyed monster at bay, they are apparently still different at some molecular toddler level. I try empathy "wouldn't it make you sad if someone took away your toy?" "wouldn't it make RE soooo happy if you gave it back?", hardball (taking the offending object away), timeout, walking away and ignoring. I pick tactics based on situation, my mental state (frazzled or really frazzled), and toddler attention span which ranges from potted plant to goldfish.

One hang up I have is saying "Don't grab from your brother" as I grab the item back for her. Rather than teaching not taking, I feel it's just teaching that you must be the biggest to take. Same as yelling at them not to yell (I try to whisper), or spanking because they hit (hands are not made for hitting no matter what size).

The major downside besides all the yelling, crying, baby WWF, is that my sweet, gentle RE has started hitting and biting in retaliation. :( I'm praying that the good days stretch into good weeks and that I find the right balance of protecting my sweet boy from my aggressive girl while still allowing them to mediate themselves, not enforcing their weaker vs stronger roles creating a victim mentality, and other gobblygook they might need therapy for later. Hmm, when I hit the mall later I should keep an eye out for a black n white striped shirt.






I keep telling myself that sharing will get easier and better once Awa and RE are older, but things have gotten only worse and more complicated lately. Awa is usually the culprit. If RE has something she wants it, no matter what it is.


It used to be that RE would wait patiently during the hostage negotiations for his toy and if they were unsuccessful would happily accept a replacement if the toy had to disappear for world peace. A baby can only be pushed so far apparently.

Now it's all screeching and WWF wrestling. I've bought different toys so they can be individuals, didn't work. I've bought identical toys to keep the green eyed monster at bay, they are apparently still different at some molecular toddler level. I try empathy "wouldn't it make you sad if someone took away your toy?" "wouldn't it make RE soooo happy if you gave it back?", hardball (taking the offending object away), timeout, walking away and ignoring. I pick tactics based on situation, my mental state (frazzled or really frazzled), and toddler attention span which ranges from potted plant to goldfish.

One hang up I have is saying "Don't grab from your brother" as I grab the item back for her. Rather than teaching not taking, I feel it's just teaching that you must be the biggest to take. Same as yelling at them not to yell (I try to whisper), or spanking because they hit (hands are not made for hitting no matter what size).

The major downside besides all the yelling, crying, baby WWF, is that my sweet, gentle RE has started hitting and biting in retaliation. :( I'm praying that the good days stretch into good weeks and that I find the right balance of protecting my sweet boy from my aggressive girl while still allowing them to mediate themselves, not enforcing their weaker vs stronger roles creating a victim mentality, and other gobblygook they might need therapy for later. Hmm, when I hit the mall later I should keep an eye out for a black n white striped shirt.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

I love toddlers because:

  • They will nod along while you are talking to them and when you ask they say they understood, but they really had no idea what you are talking about.
  • You will talk while they look at you blankly or ignore you, but they heard every word and can repeat it back to you later!
  • Full diapers make them walk like John Wayne.
  • Getting the giggles is a common occurrence.
  • You never know what the next thing to come out of their mouth will be. Belabela = peanut butter, asses = glasses, Blow bubbles = lovable, wheels on the bus go wound & wound
  • They put so much energy into hugging and kissing they grunt with the effort.
  • They never, ever get bored of pointing out airplanes, trucks, dogs, cars, leaves, anything they find interesting, even if it's the 100th one that day
  • The same kid who is digging in the dirt will later come up to you, hands outstretched, horrified that they got dirty
  • Wearing mommy's shoes & being able to walk around in them is a badge of pride
  • "Wight, I'm a big giwl?" Wight!
  • Choosing nursing over a cookie, or with a cookie, or in between bites of a cookie, or while covered in cookie crumbs.
  • All it takes is a little song to get them in the mood to do something they didn't want to do a second ago.
  • Mommy is still a superhero!

  • They will nod along while you are talking to them and when you ask they say they understood, but they really had no idea what you are talking about.
  • You will talk while they look at you blankly or ignore you, but they heard every word and can repeat it back to you later!
  • Full diapers make them walk like John Wayne.
  • Getting the giggles is a common occurrence.
  • You never know what the next thing to come out of their mouth will be. Belabela = peanut butter, asses = glasses, Blow bubbles = lovable, wheels on the bus go wound & wound
  • They put so much energy into hugging and kissing they grunt with the effort.
  • They never, ever get bored of pointing out airplanes, trucks, dogs, cars, leaves, anything they find interesting, even if it's the 100th one that day
  • The same kid who is digging in the dirt will later come up to you, hands outstretched, horrified that they got dirty
  • Wearing mommy's shoes & being able to walk around in them is a badge of pride
  • "Wight, I'm a big giwl?" Wight!
  • Choosing nursing over a cookie, or with a cookie, or in between bites of a cookie, or while covered in cookie crumbs.
  • All it takes is a little song to get them in the mood to do something they didn't want to do a second ago.
  • Mommy is still a superhero!

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Spatial deficiency makes for one bad hair day!

Today two of my personality quirks collided and the results are, well, thank G-d hidden. See, I always excelled in math, physics, statistics, but in spatial visualization, not so good. The other quirk is that occasionally when very stressed I cut off all my hair. Put the two together . . . let's just say someone who can't picture how long and inch is shouldn't wield clippers. Makes me very glad I cover! It should be cool & comfortable at least. Poor dh, that'll teach him to pile too much in my plate then leave clippers around!

Today two of my personality quirks collided and the results are, well, thank G-d hidden. See, I always excelled in math, physics, statistics, but in spatial visualization, not so good. The other quirk is that occasionally when very stressed I cut off all my hair. Put the two together . . . let's just say someone who can't picture how long and inch is shouldn't wield clippers. Makes me very glad I cover! It should be cool & comfortable at least. Poor dh, that'll teach him to pile too much in my plate then leave clippers around!

Monday, June 8, 2009

Logical packing from an illogical packer

I am so proud of myself. We are packing for our big move and I'm actually thinking rationally this time! We have a moving van that will arrive 2wks after we do so I'm packing things to be shipped & things for the suitcases. Today I filled a box with sweaters, coats, wool blankets even though a little voice in my head kept asking "What if it gets cold?" In July! It was a persistant little guy too, repeating every time I folded something and paused before piling it in. Phew! That's willpower. Now I think I'll go have a pudding cup. There's only so much willpower I can muster in a given day!

I am so proud of myself. We are packing for our big move and I'm actually thinking rationally this time! We have a moving van that will arrive 2wks after we do so I'm packing things to be shipped & things for the suitcases. Today I filled a box with sweaters, coats, wool blankets even though a little voice in my head kept asking "What if it gets cold?" In July! It was a persistant little guy too, repeating every time I folded something and paused before piling it in. Phew! That's willpower. Now I think I'll go have a pudding cup. There's only so much willpower I can muster in a given day!

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Droolworthy Doodads


I'm kicking off what will hopefully become a regular series of posts on cool gadgets! First is one I actually own and LOVE! Being that it's after shabbos, it's fresh on my mind. Behold, every balabusta's dream cholent-caddy:

Three different sized carafes so I only need to make as much food as I need, not extra to make sure it doesn't burn! Over Yom Tov I also had several different things going on in different carafes and just swapped them out as I needed them. So far it's been one of my fave kitchen gadgets!


I'm kicking off what will hopefully become a regular series of posts on cool gadgets! First is one I actually own and LOVE! Being that it's after shabbos, it's fresh on my mind. Behold, every balabusta's dream cholent-caddy:

Three different sized carafes so I only need to make as much food as I need, not extra to make sure it doesn't burn! Over Yom Tov I also had several different things going on in different carafes and just swapped them out as I needed them. So far it's been one of my fave kitchen gadgets!

Reasons why I am not really Puerto Rican or Anglo/Jewish

ot PuertoRican because:
  1. You are 2 generations from the island
  2. Your mother is white
  3. You are so white you probably glow in the dark!
  4. Your Spanish is terrible! And what kind of accent is that I hear, Mexican?
  5. You grew up in Texas, that is so American.
  6. You put weird things in your carne guisado (barley, kiske) and call it cholent
  7. You have relatives with names like Chana, Kevin, Jessica
  8. We can't pronounce either of your first names (Jessica is Yessica and Yocheved is Jocheved)
  9. You don't eat your grandmother's cooking? Not even lechon? (roast pork)
  10. There aren't any Puerto Ricans that are Jewish

I am not Anglo/Jewish because:
  1. You are only 2 generations from the island
  2. Your Father is Puerto Rican
  3. You have such big hips, lips & hair! And you tan!
  4. Your Spanish is great! And what kind of accent is that I hear, authentic?
  5. You grew up in Texas, that is so a different country.
  6. You put weird things in your cholent (cilantro, cumin) and call it carne guisado
  7. You have relatives with names like Jesus, Chewy (like the wookie?), Teotista, Jose
  8. We can't pronounce your last name (Ruiz is Roo-is, Ruse, Ruz, or worse)
  9. You once ate your grandmother's cooking? Even roast pork?
  10. There aren't any Jews that are Puerto Rican

So basically I am a zorse. A little of this, a little of that, but too different to be completely accepted by either. Don't get be started on how I'm also a girly geek, and a just-plain-frummie!

ot PuertoRican because:
  1. You are 2 generations from the island
  2. Your mother is white
  3. You are so white you probably glow in the dark!
  4. Your Spanish is terrible! And what kind of accent is that I hear, Mexican?
  5. You grew up in Texas, that is so American.
  6. You put weird things in your carne guisado (barley, kiske) and call it cholent
  7. You have relatives with names like Chana, Kevin, Jessica
  8. We can't pronounce either of your first names (Jessica is Yessica and Yocheved is Jocheved)
  9. You don't eat your grandmother's cooking? Not even lechon? (roast pork)
  10. There aren't any Puerto Ricans that are Jewish

I am not Anglo/Jewish because:
  1. You are only 2 generations from the island
  2. Your Father is Puerto Rican
  3. You have such big hips, lips & hair! And you tan!
  4. Your Spanish is great! And what kind of accent is that I hear, authentic?
  5. You grew up in Texas, that is so a different country.
  6. You put weird things in your cholent (cilantro, cumin) and call it carne guisado
  7. You have relatives with names like Jesus, Chewy (like the wookie?), Teotista, Jose
  8. We can't pronounce your last name (Ruiz is Roo-is, Ruse, Ruz, or worse)
  9. You once ate your grandmother's cooking? Even roast pork?
  10. There aren't any Jews that are Puerto Rican

So basically I am a zorse. A little of this, a little of that, but too different to be completely accepted by either. Don't get be started on how I'm also a girly geek, and a just-plain-frummie!

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Fat me wants to slap thin me!

Have you ever wanted to go back in time and slap yourself for something? That's how I feel these days. 

See, I grew up thinking I had a positive body image. I have curves and plenty of them and I was ok with that. I never obsessed about dieting like many of my friends. And this was even before JLo made it cool to have a JLo! See, Hispanic women are supposed to be hippy with a side helping of booty. I patted myself on the back for not turning my life upside down to change that.

It's now, 40lbs later that I realize that I didn't diet back then because I didn't need to, not because I accepted my body for what it was! I wasn't fat, I was a pear-shaped 0,2,4, or later 6. My BMI was well within the normal range and that's what really matters, not the size of the indentation on my fave chair.

Now I am dieting. Doing the Slimfast thing, using SparkPeople, exercising to lose weight instead of dancing for fun. Before I scoffed at diets, how annoying I must have sounded. Yes I am hungry and that does make me a bit edgy, yes I'd be a happier not to watch what I eat and care what the scale said, but I need to be healthy. I'll never look like a fashion model, unless looking like JLo or Ugly Betty (don't get me started!) comes into style again and I don't want to, but I do want to tell skinny me to shut up because she isn't comfortable with her body if she thinks there are parts she has to accept. 

Have you ever wanted to go back in time and slap yourself for something? That's how I feel these days. 


See, I grew up thinking I had a positive body image. I have curves and plenty of them and I was ok with that. I never obsessed about dieting like many of my friends. And this was even before JLo made it cool to have a JLo! See, Hispanic women are supposed to be hippy with a side helping of booty. I patted myself on the back for not turning my life upside down to change that.

It's now, 40lbs later that I realize that I didn't diet back then because I didn't need to, not because I accepted my body for what it was! I wasn't fat, I was a pear-shaped 0,2,4, or later 6. My BMI was well within the normal range and that's what really matters, not the size of the indentation on my fave chair.

Now I am dieting. Doing the Slimfast thing, using SparkPeople, exercising to lose weight instead of dancing for fun. Before I scoffed at diets, how annoying I must have sounded. Yes I am hungry and that does make me a bit edgy, yes I'd be a happier not to watch what I eat and care what the scale said, but I need to be healthy. I'll never look like a fashion model, unless looking like JLo or Ugly Betty (don't get me started!) comes into style again and I don't want to, but I do want to tell skinny me to shut up because she isn't comfortable with her body if she thinks there are parts she has to accept. 

My rice cooker


This goes under a growing list of things I lived without until I got one and now I can't live without. I can make great rice without it, provided I don't get distracted halfway through and burn it (sure it was only one time, but it's a source of Hispanic shame to botch rice!). It's just so easy! And it frees up valuable burner space. Mine even has a steamer attachment so I can steam veggies alone, or while the rice is cooking. Fabu!

Today I embarked into a whole new world of rice cookery. Today I made Quinoa and Lentils! Here's the recipe as I made it up, I even measured (something I don't normally do) so I could record it for posterity.

Into rice cooker went:
1 cup quinoa (prerinsed
1 cup brown lentils
1/4 cup sofrito (frozen)
dash of garlic powder
dash of onion powder
dash of Adobo seasoning (basically pepper, oregano, salt, onion powder, garlic powder & achiote)
4 cups water

After it cooked I served it with 1/4 cup vegetable juice and a little shredded mozzarella added to it. It was delish!



This goes under a growing list of things I lived without until I got one and now I can't live without. I can make great rice without it, provided I don't get distracted halfway through and burn it (sure it was only one time, but it's a source of Hispanic shame to botch rice!). It's just so easy! And it frees up valuable burner space. Mine even has a steamer attachment so I can steam veggies alone, or while the rice is cooking. Fabu!


Today I embarked into a whole new world of rice cookery. Today I made Quinoa and Lentils! Here's the recipe as I made it up, I even measured (something I don't normally do) so I could record it for posterity.

Into rice cooker went:
1 cup quinoa (prerinsed
1 cup brown lentils
1/4 cup sofrito (frozen)
dash of garlic powder
dash of onion powder
dash of Adobo seasoning (basically pepper, oregano, salt, onion powder, garlic powder & achiote)
4 cups water

After it cooked I served it with 1/4 cup vegetable juice and a little shredded mozzarella added to it. It was delish!


Sofrito


Since this is a basic ingredient in Puerto Rican cooking, I thought I'd post it so I can just link back to it later.

SOFRITO


1  whole garlic 
1  green pepper
1  bunch of cilantro
1  yellow onion

Take each and puree/blend in a blender with a small amount of water.  Pour into freezer ziploc bags in small amounts.  Use in rice, chicken/rice, stew, beans, corn beef hash, etc.

(my mom's note) I make larger quantities of this (4 of each vegetable) and this makes about 13 ziploc baggies full.


Since this is a basic ingredient in Puerto Rican cooking, I thought I'd post it so I can just link back to it later.

SOFRITO

1  whole garlic 
1  green pepper
1  bunch of cilantro
1  yellow onion

Take each and puree/blend in a blender with a small amount of water.  Pour into freezer ziploc bags in small amounts.  Use in rice, chicken/rice, stew, beans, corn beef hash, etc.

(my mom's note) I make larger quantities of this (4 of each vegetable) and this makes about 13 ziploc baggies full.

Monday, May 18, 2009

Just what the world needs, another blogger!

I resisted blogging for a long time. I had nothing to say. Ok, anyone who knows me is rolling their eyes and chuckling. I always have something to say, but is it something people want to hear? Or even worse, is it something people will voluntarily read? I never limit my verbal deluge to one subject, something I thought a blog needed to do, address one subject. Some of my favorite blogs to read are ecclectic and I love it! It's what keeps them interesting, fresh, different. I like to think I have a different combination of ecclectic that will make this blog interesting. If not, then I've heard that journalling is very theraputic so I'll save money on therapy later down the line. 

I resisted blogging for a long time. I had nothing to say. Ok, anyone who knows me is rolling their eyes and chuckling. I always have something to say, but is it something people want to hear? Or even worse, is it something people will voluntarily read? I never limit my verbal deluge to one subject, something I thought a blog needed to do, address one subject. Some of my favorite blogs to read are ecclectic and I love it! It's what keeps them interesting, fresh, different. I like to think I have a different combination of ecclectic that will make this blog interesting. If not, then I've heard that journalling is very theraputic so I'll save money on therapy later down the line.