I Think My Stepmother Is Hungry

You see, Jo is a bit of a martyr. Not because she beats her chest and talks about her difficult days, but because she grew up in a small town in Kansas and married a man with a Kosher Dairy kitchen. For those of you unfamiliar with the rules of Kashrut, that means there are no meat products or byproducts in the house. None. Except fish, cuz ya know, fish isn’t meat (doesn’t matter a bit though cuz no one wants to eat it unless they’re dying). Yes, dear goyim, …

Passive Aggressive Notes: From My Son?

Monday I made my famous ribs (okay the only difference with my ribs and these is that I use freshly grated ginger and much less sugar and honey) and invited one of my favorite tennis parters to join us for supper. Jackie is an amazing tennis player, but in addition to that she’s a lovely guest. As a retired school teacher she just seems to know what to bring kids. Each of my kids got a packet of eco-friendly pencils, a few colored pens, a highlighter and Post It Notes. …

Carpeting and the Sketches She Drew

We’re getting new carpet, and that means every item needs to be off the floor today. Even the box. You know the box. Everyone has one. My box was first my Grandmother’s box. When we packed her up in the middle of a blizzard in 1996 and moved her out of the apartment she’d rented since 1945, I stole a box of her belongings. They were her drawings. My Grandmother loved to sketch and I hear tales of my mother having painted a few canvases too. In 1965 they bore …

No Espeake the English: Y Tambiem mi Espanol is terrible

Mid day Friday I borrowed Mom and Doc’s* urban assault vehicle truck so that I could buy an outdoor shed. I located exactly the shed I’d wanted on Craigslist and popped an email out to Gladys (the lady who listed it for sale). The emails were brief and to the point. At the appointed hour, with my Latina friend I hopped into the truck to retrieve my new (and cheap) shed. Trust me when I tell you that this is going somewhere and that the Latina description matters. I’d agreed …

I Love My Kids; It’s the Parenting that Sucks

My son can’t get a hold of himself when he’s hungry. He’s long and lean and clearly in the middle of a growth spurt. He’s gangly and lopsided and when he smiles it’s like the sun focused all it’s warmth on just your face and it’s about to penetrate your soul. When my son smiles with his whole face, I melt. So does Robert. But as Alexander is growing, and stretching in physical and emotional ways he flops himself into my car at the end of the day. “How was …