Estherspeak

Usular: pron. ushz-you-lar
A combination of the words usually and regular, indicating an action that is not extra-ordinary and should raise no objections.

Usular is employed when trying to convince Mom to permit an activity that frequently raises objections, as in "But, Mom, I'll do it usular."

It catches up with you

Man, getting old catches up with you.

One very, very late night + another semi-late night + a day filled with activity = one exhausted mama.

David and I were at the bar mitzvah of some dear friends of ours today. I started babysitting for the B. family about 17 years ago, when E. was 6 and G. was just a twinkle in his parents eyes. Over the years, I babysat frequently and roughly every year or so I would stay with the boys for a long weekend or even a week while J. and K. would go on a trip. Those were special times for me - learning how to run a house and manage kids, even if it was just for a week. It's also one of the many contributing factors that led David and I to decide to wait a long time to have children (we were married for almost 9 years before Esther was born). Not because E. and G. were challenging - far from it. They were wonderful children and are now really cool people. But because running a household is hard work!

We celebrated with the B. family at E's bar mitzvah several years ago, and today's was G's. My heart swelled with pride as I saw him on the bimah and I thanked God for the small role that I've been able to play in his life. I remembered learning the shabbat prayer so that I could pray it with them on a Friday night while babysitting. I thought I did it pretty well, until the 5 year old G. teased me later about saying "melly-hay-new." G. and I are tight, and while I'm no longer a babysitter, we still spend time together every couple months - whether going out for lunch or having him come over to "work" as a mother's helper.

It was weird and wonderfulto think how time sort of caught up with me there - to see this baby that I used to hold becoming an adult. It was also a foreshadowing of what will come in my own life, as I see my children grow and mature.

In the still . . .

Sometimes when David is out of town, I will stay up very, very late. Like 2:45am late. Part of the reason is because I sleep horribly when he's not here. I hear EVERY.SINGLE.CREAK.AND.MOAN.AND.RUSTLE.
With an 80 year old house that backs up to a wooded park, two dogs and two little kids, there's a lot of creaking and moaning going on.

This is craziness, I know. When I finally try to go to sleep and find myself restless, I know I will be kicking myself. You should hear the way I fuss at Vickie when we chat about her nocturnal habits ! I'm now fussing at myself the same way.

For now, the blogs are read. E-mails responded to (some of them anyway). 90% of every single thing in my living room, dining room, kitchen, and play room is in it's rightful place. For some, that rightful place is a pile in the corner china cabinet, but it's still the rightful place. Lunches are made, dishes are washed. I feel calm and settled, except for one nagging thing . . .

How very stupid it is to stay up so late and how very, very tired I will be tomorrow.

P.S. Since it is now 2:43am on Friday, this counts as Friday's post.

Ruthie speak

Ruthie has a touch of a diaper rash, and so I tell her that she can sit in the tub to wash her bottom. I clarify that this is NOT a bath, that Esther will not be getting in, and that it is just to wash her bottom in the water.

As the girls run into the bathroom, Ruthie turns to Esther and says self-importantly, "The water is only for me Esther. My bottom is broken."

Rock star

There are times that I feel like a rock star.

Like when it's only Wednesday at 11:45am and I've been to 3 jazzercise classes in 3 days. That makes me feel like a rock star.

Or when the teacher at the Tuesday night class takes a break to take a swig of water and then looks at me to see what step we're on.

Or when I attend a class that I haven't been to before, and as I introduce myself to the teacher after class, she tells me "you had some good moves out there!"

These are the times when not only do I feel like a rock star, but I feel so, so HOPEFUL !!! I think that I might actually be able to do it this time.

So here we are, almost a year later after I wrote the most honest post I've ever written. In the past 11 and 1/2 months I gained and have lost 6-8 pounds. I've been on a good track the past 4-5 weeks but it's not without significant sacrifice.

The girls now go to daycare 5 days per week - I decided to have them go 5 days per week because I need to be available to work more often as I'm covering for a colleague on maternity leave. The unintended consequence is that it also frees me up to go to more Jazzercise classes. I HATE having the girls away from me those 2 extra days. It won't be forever, most likely only through December, but for now it really works for those 2 reasons.

I also go to an exercise class typically 2-3 nights per week if David isn't traveling. I'm gone from 6:30 - 8:20 or so, so this means that he handles the end of dinner and all of Ruthie's bedtime by himself, but he's typically not able to get to the clean-up or make lunches for the next day. This means that we're both "working" until 9:30 or so, which stinks for both of us.

Luckily, the girls are pretty well conditioned to me leaving in the evenings. In fact, when they see me with my exercise clothes, Ruthie says "You goin' to ess-ercise Mommy? You goin' ess-ercise?" I really miss putting Ruthie to bed on those nights, even though she might be asking for David to do it anyway !

As a further result of our hectic work week, we're trying to "dial it down" on the weekends so we have more family time and quiet time together. This stinks for all of us because we all miss out on social events. But for right now, this plan is really working for our family.

And when our family is jelling well together, that REALLY makes me feel like a rock-star!

Sideswiper Evangelizer

It's kind of a personal thing with me that I speak to people when I pass them. The crossing guard in front of the girls school, the security guard in the building, the housekeeper who always seems to be on the elevator with us, the building maintenance people, etc... you get the idea. These people are part of my kids daily lives and we greet them when we pass. "Good morning Mr. Michael" we chorus to the crossing guard. Over the past three years Mr. Michael and I have chatted occasionally, he remarks on how much older Ruthie looks and how tall Esther is. He's friendly with a couple of the teachers at their school. He has laughed at me (and at the girls) after we yell at a car who is going too fast or has come too far into the crosswalk. Seems like a normal guy.

But today? Today I figured out that Mr. Michael is definitely not your typical crossing guard. He's a sideswiper evangelizer.

I actually have a lot of respect for sidewalk evangelizers, no matter what their faith. They were some regulars that used to get David and I outside the gym at the University of Maryland when I was in grad school. When I used to make the short drive into D.C. for my previous job, there were frequently some nicely dressed older ladies at the 7-11. Really - I think it's cool that they feel so passionnate.

But with them, I knew what to expect. They were pretty upfront about what they were talking about. With Mr. Michael today - I got sideswiped.

As I was crossing back into the parking lot, I mentioned what a great feeling it was to be running "early" for a change. He asked about Ruthie's name and I commented where her name came from in the Bible as a way of explanation. He started talking and did not stop for 16 minutes. He followed me through the crosswalk and we stood on the sidewalk for 7 minutes. Then when I did my "Great talking to you" and tried to move away, he said he would walk me to my car. We get to my car and he's still talking. We went from languages in the bible, to how the hebrew people don't even speak hebrew, to how the letter J is only 500 years old so how could somebody be named Jesus when there wasn't even the letter J when he was alive, how many other things aren't what they say they are, to the Library of Congress building and how it has demonic statues.

That's when I forcefully said "Great talking to you - got to get to work!" and jumped in my car. Note to self: do not engage Mr. Michael in conversation again unless I am running really early and have noting else to do.

All Saints Day

While Halloween was definitely special, the next day was pretty special too. It was All Saints Day and our parish invited the children to dress up as a saint and process into mass with the processional.


I jumped at the chance to remind Esther and Ruthie of the full strength of their Old Testament names. The fact that Queen Esther is not a saint and that Ruth may or may not be a saint was a mere technicality in my mind.


Esther and I went to Value Village on Saturday afternoon to acquire their "saintly" costumes. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I'd be able to pull them together there. Just in case you didn't know, pillowcases make FANTASTIC costumes. Esther wore a purple turtleneck, a purple pillowcase as a kind of sheath, and a green satin polyester nightshirt as a robe. Add a gold rope belt that's really for a Christmas tree and some purple striped tights and purple shoes that you already own, and voila - Queen Esther. Ruthie wore a cream turtleneck, cream tights, a brown pillowcase and a woven rope belt, and voila - Ruth the Moabess. I found some fake flowers that I thought would pass for wheat but they had lost their price tag. My begging and pleading with both the Asst. Manager and Manager did nothing to sway them, as it is their strict policy to not sell items without price tags.


On Sunday morning, we were rushing to get out the door to mass and it was raining, so I wound up dropping David and the girls off at the door, parking, and then running in to meet them. I could see them in the vestibule surrounded by St. Claire, St. Lillian, St. Michael the archangel, and assorted others. I couldn't make it through the crowd so I sat in our semi-regular spot but closer to the aisle, so they could see me when they walked in.


I should mention that both David and I thought we had a snowball's chance in hell of getting them to actually join the procession. A big church? Strange people? BIG KIDS? Ha !!! We certainly wouldn't force them, so I figured one or both of us would wind up walking in with them.


I was SHOCKED (I think my jaw actually dropped) when I saw them LEADING the procession of children. They were walking behind the Deacon and Esther had her arm around Ruthie's shoulder guiding her. They didn't see me as they walked past, so intent was their gaze on the first pew where the children were to go. My heart swelled with pride to see my girls - my 2 year old and my 4 year old girls in the procession. Say what you will about the Catholic church (I've said a lot of it myself) but in that moment I was so happy for them that they were able to participate in the mass in a real and authentic way (or as authentic as you can get dressed up in a pillowcase on All Saints Day as someone who may or may not be a saint).

I hope that this is the beginning of many more processions for them: in the Christmas pageant, as altar servers, as readers or Eucharistic ministers for the "teen" mass. And maybe it's also the very beginning of a tiny nugget in their hearts. (The same sort of little nugget that I got in my heart when I was 8 years old and became an altar server). That they are unique and special and a part of something greater.