Home… and not.

1. Dedushka, my dad, is home from the hospital and doing much better. If you want to leave him a welcome home message, use the comments. Even though he lives a few blocks away, he’s always happy to see pictures of grandchildren and is an avid reader of the blog. (Hey Dad, check the comments, k?).

2. I did the unthinkable: I bought a baby carrier.

It's a boring blue I don't love. I think I may have to bling it out.

After all the carriers I have made, I still found myself in sudden need a soft structured carrier. I set aside time last night to make it, but that was exactly when Sagitta decided that she needed to be awake, too. So this morning I bought a Yamo, because when one flies alone with a toddler, soft-structured is the carrier of choice.

3. Sagitta and I are flying out to Seoul tonight. The kids are going to be with Cloud Man’s folks. After all, what’s life without a little spontaneity?

Dedushka

Some of you know that Dedushka, my dad, is in the hospital under observation.

Dedushka and Volucris at Volucris's bar mitzvah

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Here’s the scoop: Dedushka is fine. Part of his face is a little droopy, but the CT scan is clear. (They say they didn’t find anything, but when it comes to a brain scan I’m pretty sure that means they didn’t find anything abnormal. If they didn’t find anything at all we’d have other worries). He was very dizzy and nauseated, too, and with symptoms like these doctors like to keep an eye on things. So Dedushka is going to be in the hospital until Sunday.

We are managing fine; either my sister or I are with my mom, who is handling this fairly well, all things considered.

Meanwhile, dad’s Hebrew name is Pinchas Ben Karolia, and a perek of tehillim or a nice mishabeirach in shul won’t go amiss. Thanks, and shabbat shalom!

Yum.

Remember my niece, the superhero? She invited us over for dinner tonight.

See the powder blue calculator watch? Super Elisheva knows her Geek Chic.

Super Elisheva went to Cooking camp at a gourmet food and cookware shop here in our city. She wanted to share what she learned with me. It was an honor, as well as a culinary delight.

She made these delicious ravioli (these were the exquisite cheese ravioli in creamy tomato sauce. We didn’t get a picture of the divine yam ravioli in cream sauce).

See the cigar on the side? It was filled with cheese and nuts and sun-dried tomatoes and mint and love.

And then my dearest, beloved niece made deep-fried ice cream.

Special thanks to Super Elisheva's sister, Wonder Chaviva, for the photos.

It was a religious experience. Warm and crunchy and cold and smooth, Super Elisheva served this study in contrasts up with real maple syrup. It’s something I’ve only ever read about, and friend, if you’ve only ever read about deep-fried ice cream instead of tasting it, summon Super Elisheva (I’m just guessing on the summoning thing, as I’m not really clear on how other people contact superheroes. I just use my cell phone). Once you’ve reached her, beg her to make some deep-fried ice cream for you.

Because you know something?

Super Elisheva did it again!

Toddler Philosophy

The day can only be improved by sticking a blue magic marker up your nose.

As the mishna says, the wise person learns from everyone.

My First Braid

I ran this picture past the Raising Wings Censorship Committee to make sure that there wasn't so much skin showing that this photo might cause embarrassment when Sagitta is older. Oh, and that's a teething biscuit she's eating. Sagitta has new molars coming in and I'm her favorite teether. Redirection works, except for when it doesn't.

Close-up:

Yes, this is another valiant attempt on my part to keep hair out of Sagitta's face without resorting to scissors. Also, a braid looks very cute in wispy baby hair.

Be It Ever So Humble

Guess who came home today?

And this is why you should always check your home for holes in the space/time continuum.

Volucris came home, too.

We missed him so, so much.

Sagitta wouldn’t let go of him for hours after he walked through the door and the older girls insisted that he play with them and talked his ear off filling him in on the last two and a half weeks. There was Lego building of a big set that Volucris didn’t open until just so that he could put it together with them. It’s good to have him back.

Civilization

It’s oddly beautiful, isn’t it?

I wonder if you can see the North Star directly over it at Solstice.

It looks like the work of an ancient but noble civilization. A civilization that truly understood the importance of pink.

And if anyone can explain why cupcake frosting made of sugar, eggs, cream of tartar, and food coloring abandoned in the back of my fridge for two weeks behaves this way, I would be grateful.

I hate it when the food forgotten in my fridge shows greater intelligence than I could ever hope for.

Because right now I’m a little worried that the denizens of Triangle World have decided that we, The Great Ones Who Open The Refrigerator Door and Let In the Light, are no longer fit to worship and have begun sending out little pink pyramid-shaped spaceships. They are trying to take over.

It's already started. Those are launch points, I tell you.

Our only hope is that the other stuff breeding in the back of my fridge will defeat them.

Bear Necessities

It seems that all the other blogging homeschooling mothers are posting their summer to-do lists. I’d feel intimidated by these displays of foresight and initiative but I can’t plan at all yet because I don’t even know which country I’m going to be in this summer. I can’t even predict the hemisphere we’ll be in, and it’s almost July. I’m hoping to be able to make it to the USA for Fred’s wedding (yes, the same Fred who spent our wedding night with us. I’m hoping not to return the favor), but I might end up dragging all the kids back to Seoul and experience monsoons. Or We’ll stay here in coastal Israel and see who buckles first and turns on the air conditioning (we haven’t turned it on yet. Our ability to withstand baking temperatures is a point of pride). So making a to-do list is out.

The kids, however, are good at making their own fun, and yesterday Aquila pulled out one of her birthday presents. I had given her a Fimo (hard-baking plastic clay) kit, and she made these:

It took her hours and no matter how difficult the steps were, she didn't quit.

Today I helped her paint on the eyes and mouths, and they were done. She’s really happy with her little bears, and has been hitting me up for more Fimo since these plastic ursines were baking.

She followed the directions for the brown one, and reinterpreted them for the pink one.

Aquila was generous enough to share some of the leftover clay with Lyra, who made a little girl:

I'm still getting used to her new do.

Honestly, I’m on the fence when it comes to Fimo. It’s a wonderful toy and tool and the girls really enjoy it, but do you know what happens to Fimo once it’s baked? Yeah, me either, until I step on it in the middle of the night. The one thing I’ve learned is that crafts projects pile up and pile up until you’re swimming in a sea of papers, pencils and glue. I’m not so sure I want to add Fimo to the mix. Back when the kids were little, I had the most perfect solution to the problem of sculptures and what to do with them: pretzels. We’d make the dough, the kids would shape it, we’d bake, admire, and the most important step: eat. The products were consumed within minutes and we’d have full tummies to show for all the effort. The kids had the joy of self-expression (“I made a heart!” “I made a flower!” “I made an AK-47!”) and we’d have lunch. It was all very efficient. I’m not sure I’m ready to move on to the more professional, and permanent, material.

You all know where this is going, though. The craft store, for more Fimo. I should probably put that at the top of the to-do list already.

Chopped

Before

After

This is how Lyra gets her summer on.

At Steves’ Salon, of course.

Ballerina

It’s June and my hands are sticky with hair gel. This can only mean one thing: dance recital season.

There’s nothing like watching a flutter of little ballerinas cavorting on a stage. Lyra, of course, is the least little one.

I'll only worry if she gets in the habit of beginning sentences with the words "fee fie foe fum".

When we entered the class for the first lesson the teacher tried to explain to me that this was the kindergarten group. When she realized that by age, Lyra was in the correct room, the teacher looked up and down my 5 foot, 5.5 inch frame and asked, “so, where are the tall genes in the family?”. Fortunately, Lyra doesn’t think too much about being a half a head taller than the really tall girls, or that she towers over her more moderately sized classmates. She’s just there to dance.

And does she dance.

With her whole heart.

Next year she moves up to the first grade classes with their black leotards and chiffon skirts.

Portrait of the Ballerina as a Young Woman.

I’m enjoying the pink while it lasts.