Beep Beep! Surprise!

This morning a vehicular surprise arrived in our Cherrios box.

But here's the thing. It arrived partially disassembled. The car was all black with no stickers on it and there was a separate sticker package like this in the box:

I had to hide the car from Ari so that he didn't go insane (he loves cars!). I was determined to stick the stickers in the right place before he saw it.

As I attempted to stick the minuscule stickers on this plastic vehicle I was reminded that I have a college degree. Yes folks, I attended NYU (New York University) and it did not prepare me for this task. And let me tell you, it was tough stuff.

If you look closely at the photo, it has sections labeled from A-H and corresponding parts on the plastic car. However, there are no letters on the actual car. So you have to infer which part is which. I was baffled.

Eventually I got it together and this small road warrior joined the ranks of Ari's car club.


I was very proud of myself for this completing this task.

The Snow Has Made Us Crazy

This is what happens when you are trapped in the house for days:

I Hate Valentine's Day

As Valentine's Day approaches, I found myself getting into the spirit of things. I even made Ari and Wil a Valentine when I was subbing in a 2nd grade classroom yesterday.


For those of you that know me well, the question marks are already going off in your minds. I don't know what happened to me. I guess the children sucked me into the holiday. I was surrounded by 2nd graders creating Valentine works of art and I succumbed to the pressure.

But then I read my friend Amber's blog about this cursed holiday, and I was reminded of who I really am. Now here's where my old friends will back me up. The question marks that were previously blinking in your minds will dissipate.

I remembered that I HATE Valentine's Day. Yes, I said it. In fact I hate it so much that one year on Valentine's Day in 2001, when I was spending a semester of college abroad in London, I dressed up in all black and walked around with a black umbrella to protest this holiday.

Why do I hate Valentine's Day so much? Because it makes people who don't have a boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife/lover feel badly about themselves.

To take it a step further, it places unreasonable expectations on people who do have a significant other. For example you, as a part of a couple, are expected to do something phenomenal for your boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife/lover.

According to the media (which includes the greeting card companies, television, magazines and the internet) you must make fireworks go off in your apartment, light candles, have boxes of chocolate present at all times, bouquets of flawless roses on hand and be ready to provide a fantastic time in the bedroom.

Needless to say, with all these expectations, somebody is going to be disappointed. Did I mention how much I hate this holiday?

Additionally, why do we need a holiday to remind us to tell our boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife/lover that we love them?

Are we that dense that we can't remember to do it ourselves?

After being brainwashed momentarily by 2nd graders, when I made those Vday cards, I am now reminded of my moral stance on this holiday. I will yell it from the hill tops:

"I HATE VALENTINE'S DAY!"
-Old School/New School Mom

Circle

My mom is so much better at teaching Ari things than I am. Apparently, she taught him the word "circle." He now recognizes the shape when you point it out to him.

Ari's Desktop Design

Apparently, I underestimated my toddler's technology smarts. He was able to successfully change the desktop background on my computer. When I caught him, he had climbed up onto the computer chair, and was furiously clicking the mouse. He managed, in this process, to change the desktop background to this picture:

Amazing! All I could do was laugh.

You Know You're a Jewish Mother When...

I was on the subway watching some very talented break dancers do their thing. One of them was doing flips and such. Then I noticed that the one flipping all over the place was touching the disgusting subway floor with his gloved hands. And I began to fear for his life. I thought about all the germs that he was currently interacting with.

When the two fantastic young breaking dancing lads were done with their performance I scrounged up some change and gave it to the gloved handed one. Then I said:

"Will you please wash your gloves when you get home?"

He laughed
"Yeah, I know. I will. I usually buy new ones."

"Don't take it personally," I said "I'm a Jewish mother."

I can't help it. I fear for his health. I mean, as my mother always said "When your resistance is down, you can catch a bug!"

I can only hope that he heeded my advice. If I had more time with him on the subway, I would have urged him to take vitamin C and echinacea to prevent further infection.

G-d help me, I'm crazy.

You May Have a Cyst or it May be Cancer

I received a voicemail from a doctor at the ER. On the voicemail she said:

"Hi, this is Dr. BEEP from the ER, we found something on your x-ray. Can you please give us a call back?"

At the word "something" I was ready to hang up the phone immediately and call her back. But I forced myself to listen to the end of her message. I hung up and called back the ER. It rang a few times and then I got an infuriating voicemail box:

"Hello, you've reached the Assistant Director of BEEP hospital leave a message!"

So I now have the following information:
--I have SOMETHING in my knee
--The person who provided me with this information MAY not exist

It turns out Dr. Beep was alive and well and proved her existence by returning my phone call.

Here's how the conversation went:
"Hi this is Dr. Beep from BEEP hosiptal. Thanks for calling us back, most people don't!"
"Of course!" I said "I want to know what you found on my x-ray!"
"Well, we found a lucency at the proximal tibial shaft that has uncertain significance." She said matter-of-factly

"What does that mean in English?" I replied
"Well," she began "You may have a cyst or it may be cancer."

Here is where my brain EXPLODED.

What would possess someone to say such a thing, I don't know. Needless to say after many tests, I don't have cancer. But this story makes me want to move to Canada because the health care system and bedside manner in the United States are terrible.