Melech and I did the walk togeter in the rain. Ahuva, tired from an alergic reaction to penicillin and the medication to treat it, opted to stay home, saying she needed time with just Aba. He didn't seem to mind. Both were releived when i loaded a very kvetchy Mellie into the ergo carrier and stepped outside.
110th st. Was already blocked off but the walkers had not yet arrived.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
This friday: PS 165 March 31st School Tour
It's cool too go to your neighborhood school!
PS 165 School Tour
234 W 109th Street (between Amsterdam and Broadway)
March 31, 2011 from 9:15 AM to 10:15 AM
PS 165 is hosting school tour for parents of PK through 5th grade.
Parents will meet at 9:15 AM in the waiting area outside the Parent
Coordinator office on the 1st floor.
Children are welcome.
Parents are encouraged to RSVP by calling Mr. Duran at (212) 678-2873
Ext. 1142.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Just say no to the mishugas: go to your local public school
A letter to the fellow parents at our daughter's pre-school about our choice.
>>
>> I realize that most of you are considering other options. But if you want to
>> skip the pressures of applying, waiting, and stressing about kindergarten, not
>> to mention the high price of tuition, be aware that you have a choice.
>>
>> We have decided to "Just say 'no'" to the craziness that applying to
>> Kindergarten in NYC can represent for families. We are sending Ahuva to our
>> zoned public school which happens to be PS 165. She will attend the dual
>> language (Spanish) K class. The advantages for us are clear:
>> -No travel. The school is one block from our home. We look forward to having
>> classmates who live close by.
>> -Spanish. Learning another language is more than most kids elementary school.
>> Additionally, the dual-language programs supposedly have a curriculum that match
>> the G&T programs, except that you gain another language.
>> -Cost. None. We can spend the extra money on ballet or karate or on donations to
>> help improve the school's library. Or we can just feel a bit less strapped for a
>> change.
>> -Community. I attended the first "meet and greet", I and was impressed by the
>> small core of parents I met who care deeply about their school and who are open
>> and welcoming to anyone who wants to get involved.
>> -Great teachers. We met the dual language teachers for K and 1st grade who were
>> both wonderful.
>> -A very decent public school. A tour of the school was eye-opening. There were
>> no ipads, but the children were happy and engaged in their lessons. The younger
>> grades were safely separated from the older grades. The classrooms were in good
>> shape. There was a positive feeling in the air.
>>
>> The disadvantages?
>> -Low test scores. To be fair, the school has those test scores in part because
>> it does take whoever comes. However, there is a new principal at the school who
>> is bright, articulate, energetic, and seems to have what it takes to make a
>> difference at the school.
>>
>> -Diversity. Right now, it's not very diverse. I expect that will change. We will
>> add to the diversity. If you join us, so will you.
>>
>> -Bad reputation. This seems to be an outdated hold over from the 1980s when the
>> neighborhood was quite different than it is today.
>> I encourage you to join me at the next meet & greet and to sign up for a tour.
>> And tell your friends!>>
>> I realize that most of you are considering other options. But if you want to
>> skip the pressures of applying, waiting, and stressing about kindergarten, not
>> to mention the high price of tuition, be aware that you have a choice.
>>
>> We have decided to "Just say 'no'" to the craziness that applying to
>> Kindergarten in NYC can represent for families. We are sending Ahuva to our
>> zoned public school which happens to be PS 165. She will attend the dual
>> language (Spanish) K class. The advantages for us are clear:
>> -No travel. The school is one block from our home. We look forward to having
>> classmates who live close by.
>> -Spanish. Learning another language is more than most kids elementary school.
>> Additionally, the dual-language programs supposedly have a curriculum that match
>> the G&T programs, except that you gain another language.
>> -Cost. None. We can spend the extra money on ballet or karate or on donations to
>> help improve the school's library. Or we can just feel a bit less strapped for a
>> change.
>> -Community. I attended the first "meet and greet", I and was impressed by the
>> small core of parents I met who care deeply about their school and who are open
>> and welcoming to anyone who wants to get involved.
>> -Great teachers. We met the dual language teachers for K and 1st grade who were
>> both wonderful.
>> -A very decent public school. A tour of the school was eye-opening. There were
>> no ipads, but the children were happy and engaged in their lessons. The younger
>> grades were safely separated from the older grades. The classrooms were in good
>> shape. There was a positive feeling in the air.
>>
>> The disadvantages?
>> -Low test scores. To be fair, the school has those test scores in part because
>> it does take whoever comes. However, there is a new principal at the school who
>> is bright, articulate, energetic, and seems to have what it takes to make a
>> difference at the school.
>>
>> -Diversity. Right now, it's not very diverse. I expect that will change. We will
>> add to the diversity. If you join us, so will you.
>>
>> -Bad reputation. This seems to be an outdated hold over from the 1980s when the
>> neighborhood was quite different than it is today.
>> I encourage you to join me at the next meet & greet and to sign up for a tour.
>> And tell your friends!>>
Friday, February 18, 2011
Night monkey, day monkey
You'd think that after sleeping fewer than 3 hrs on tues, melech, like me, would want to sleep well wed night. Wrong! His vengful wrath knows no rest. We walked. Screamed. Chatted on skype with saba and savta at 1:30 am. Savta sang lullibies which soothed me & made M. Laugh. Aba and i took turns waking and snoozing. It is a blur. M. was impossible.
A bright spot thou: impromptu nocturnal FB chat with a friend in Australia cheers me up.
Irony: m. Fell asleep in strollie to school b4 leaving home, that little monkey!
A bright spot thou: impromptu nocturnal FB chat with a friend in Australia cheers me up.
Irony: m. Fell asleep in strollie to school b4 leaving home, that little monkey!
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Weanin' Ain't Ez
When it was time to wean Bigsis, i turned to la Leche League's website for advice. Under weaning it said "Thinking about weaning? Have you consiered the benefits of nursing? Unless your child is in college, there's no reason to stop."
I am well aware of the benefits of nursing. I love nursing. In fact, I happily would nurse BabyBoy until college. But the time had come.
A closer read on the LLL site suggests that if you really must stop you could do so gradually by adopting a "don't offer, don't refuse" policy. Meaning don't present your breast but if he tears at your shirt, signs "milk", you can give it up
I am well aware of the benefits of nursing. I love nursing. In fact, I happily would nurse BabyBoy until college. But the time had come.
A closer read on the LLL site suggests that if you really must stop you could do so gradually by adopting a "don't offer, don't refuse" policy. Meaning don't present your breast but if he tears at your shirt, signs "milk", you can give it up
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Looking for bright spots
Tues. First day back after a long weekend proved bad day to wear shoes instead of boots as freezing rain fell all day. But coming out of the train the sight of ice-covered branches was beautiful.
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
A special shwarma experience + 1
Today I abandoned the Jewish writers tour to sit and write this in a café instead. The tour was frustrating. Not only was it in Polish without a formal translator, but since most of Jewish Warsaw was litterally obliterated in the war, not many of the actual places remained to visit.
I sat in what used to be the ghetto, in a street what now hosts the important annual Singer festival. This block of buildings are all that remain of the ghetto buildings. They are without facades, brick exposed, awaiting a scheduled rennovation. Photos of old Warsaw jews hang from them, a permanent exposition.
Oh yum! They serve ice coffee in one of the ways I like it best: blended and milky. A creamy shake for adults. Not a frappuchino – not so much ice. And here is my cake. A dream of soft (but not mushy) merengue, light layers of cream, and the freshest strawberries imaginable.
On the subway now. Thre is only one line. It’s enough. Enough to get us where we need to go: from our Stalinist-style student hotel in the city’s perifery to the Shalom Foundation downtown where hour classes are held. And enough subway to get lost.
Today we took the metro from school one stop in the wrong direction on our way to meet the tour. Hungry for lunch, we decided to eat before correcting our mistake. Adi keenly spotted a kebab place by the metro exit. Aka, a shwarma joint. We left the perfect sunlight and entered a dim pocket of Middle Eastern delights. We ordered by pointing and inventing. “Felafel?” I asked hopefully. Negative. Adi offered to leave but I saw promising salads and was undaunted. A Polish girl who knew three words of English was brough in from the kitchen to help “translate” my order, an improvised ventarian sandwich. I pointed at the light and dark meat shwarma spits and said “No”. I pointed at the salads and said “Salatka – TAK”, an nodded. Ditto the fried eggplant. And attempting to read the word and guess I said “Chleb” – bread. I eyed some Turkish yogurt drink and pointed to that too for my protein. It was a good call – a light, yummy buttermilky drink.
The young guy benind the counter doesn’t speak Arabic (I asked). Turkish? “KURD.” I understand that he is not fond of Arabs. Probably not a big fan of Turks either. “Where are you from?” he communicates the question via the Polish girl.
“New York,” Adi answers for both of us, an unusual answer for him. I don’t elaborate.
“Really?” the Kurd seems to ask. I don’t understand his words but his suspicion is clear as is his retort (also in Polish) to Adi, “You don’t look Polish.”
Adi sits to eat his Shwarma. I can’t wait to tell my bro about what I just saw. After wrapping a full pile of meat, salads and sauces, our Kurdish friend pressed the shwarma sandwich on a grill like a panini.
A shwarma panini.
An exciting shwarma variant.
Meanwhile, Hussein is called in from the ktichen. He doesn’t speak Arabic either, despite the name. Apparantly he’s been brought in because he has some crucial English vocabulary that the Polish girl lacks. He also has excessive gaps between his front teeth.
“Chili sauce?” he asks, holding a red squirty bottle usually associated with ketsup. I hesitate only for a second, fearing the wrath it may cause my traveling stomach later but quickly nod and say “TAK.”
“Garlic sause?” he asks, this time rasining a yellow squirty bottle usually associated with mustard. I nod again, “Tak!”
“Thank you” in Kurdish is “spaat”. I remember this after the 3rd try by telling myself that it resembles the start of the Russian “Spaacibo”.
I join Adi. I look around. A Polish version of “hot or not” is on TV. A small lunch crowd is forming. I take a bite. Boy am I glad we got off at the wrong stop. My sandwich is utterly kick ass. The chili sauce is not too hot, but mixes perfectly with the garlic sauce to give delightful seasioning to the purple cabbage sald. The breaded, fried eggpland (which the Kurd heated in the microwave after panini-ing the rest of my sandwich) is just the right consistency of done but not mushy. It is all served in a simple round bread that is just thick enough to suck up the excess sauces and grease and makes it all easy to hold.
A bit more on the garlic sauce, since I was discussing it with bro last week in New York: Unfortunatly, I was not able to really judge the “delivery method”. Was it mixed with potato, as was a version bro recently experienced? I don’t think so. Oil? Seems so, but if so the garlic was truly pulverized, or perhaps the it was more of an infused oil. Either way, what it did better than any garlic sauce I’ve known was to successfully distribute the garlic flavor efficiently and evenly througout the sandwich. So while garlic was ever-present, it was not overly present in any one bite.
And how did the panini shwarma thing work? I have to follow up with Adi. I was too busy enjoying my delighful sandiwich and discussing the experience to even ask. Adi said we could tell him on our way out where he’s really from. But I’m glad we didn’t because we may have to go back for more!
And tonight at the little bakery on the way home I found a rare treat: spit cake! I read about it in a New Yorker article but had never seen it, let alone tasted it. I walked in to the shop not knowing what I would choose, thinking I’d leave it up to Ahuva. But there it was. A stack of thick semi-circles, with layers as in tree rings. Spit cake is made by slowly pouring layer after layer of sponge cake batter over a moving spit. A shwarma cake. I had to try it.
We enjoyed it after Ahuva went to bed. It was lovely. Slightly smokey. Not too sweet. With an even better after taste.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Mommy's Law
A variation on Murphy’s Law that states: the moment your computer finishes booting (and you log on), your children will wake up.
(No sooner did I think of this than Ahuva opened her eyes, proving it true.)
Friday, October 02, 2009
My mail to Moma
Let's see how they respond:
On Wednesday afternoon at 2:00, I visited Moma with my 7 –week old baby. As soon as we arrived up to the 6th floor to see the Ron Arad: NO DISCIPLINE exhibit, my son stirred in his carrier, indicating that he was hungry. I chose a spot at the end of the long couches outside the exhibit, near the audio guide counter, and began to nurse him. Within a few moments, I was asked by a guard to move to a less comfortable bench down the hall. Stunned, I asked him why. He made it clear that he was “not telling” me that I “could not nurse my baby” but that I was “making people uncomfortable” and would prefer if I would do it “over there”.
Uncomfortable? Were people uncomfortable viewing the 1947 surrealist work depicting a breast on top of a book, not to mention countless other representations of the human form on display at the museum?
Perhaps the guard was unfamiliar with New York law, specifically:
Civil Rights Law Article 7 CVR Article 7 § 79-e. Right to breast feed. Notwithstanding any other provision of law, a mother may breast feed her baby in any location, public or private, where the mother is otherwise authorized to be, irrespective of whether or not the nipple of the mother's breast is covered during or incidental to the breast feeding.
Clearly, that law gives me the right to nurse in the area outside an exhibit of the museum. I suspect that I was the only one made “uncomfortable” by the guard’s insensitive harassment. I would appreciate clarification and an apology.
Yours truly,
Moma member
On Wednesday afternoon at 2:00, I visited Moma with my 7 –week old baby. As soon as we arrived up to the 6th floor to see the Ron Arad: NO DISCIPLINE exhibit, my son stirred in his carrier, indicating that he was hungry. I chose a spot at the end of the long couches outside the exhibit, near the audio guide counter, and began to nurse him. Within a few moments, I was asked by a guard to move to a less comfortable bench down the hall. Stunned, I asked him why. He made it clear that he was “not telling” me that I “could not nurse my baby” but that I was “making people uncomfortable” and would prefer if I would do it “over there”.
Uncomfortable? Were people uncomfortable viewing the 1947 surrealist work depicting a breast on top of a book, not to mention countless other representations of the human form on display at the museum?
Perhaps the guard was unfamiliar with New York law, specifically:
Civil Rights Law Article 7 CVR Article 7 § 79-e. Right to breast feed. Notwithstanding any other provision of law, a mother may breast feed her baby in any location, public or private, where the mother is otherwise authorized to be, irrespective of whether or not the nipple of the mother's breast is covered during or incidental to the breast feeding.
Clearly, that law gives me the right to nurse in the area outside an exhibit of the museum. I suspect that I was the only one made “uncomfortable” by the guard’s insensitive harassment. I would appreciate clarification and an apology.
Yours truly,
Moma member
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Check it out!
http://assembly.state.ny.us/leg/?bn=A00789 Thanks, Foster!
And specifically:
Civil Rights Law Article 7 CVR Article 7
§ 79-e. Right to breast feed. Notwithstanding any other provision of law, a mother may breast feed her baby in any location, public or private, where the mother is otherwise authorized to be, irrespective of whether or not the nipple of the mother's breast is covered during or incidental to the breast feeding.
And specifically:
Civil Rights Law Article 7 CVR Article 7
§ 79-e. Right to breast feed. Notwithstanding any other provision of law, a mother may breast feed her baby in any location, public or private, where the mother is otherwise authorized to be, irrespective of whether or not the nipple of the mother's breast is covered during or incidental to the breast feeding.
Still Outraged
Melech, milk on chin, enjoying MOMA despite the breastfeeding outrage.
Part of the exhibit on the surrealist object, this breast from 1947 is one of many breasts as art on display at Moma.Trying to enjoy the free time remaining on my maternity leave, I took Melech to MoMa today. As soon as we arrived at the first exhibit I wanted to see, he stirred in the Moby wrap, indicating that he was ready to eat. The sculpture garden was open and might have been a good place to nurse, but we were all the way up on the 6th floor. And then lo and behold, right outside the Ron Arad: No Discipline exhibit, there were these fabulous couches. I picked a spot at the end and, finding the couch comfy indeed, started to nurse.
A guard gave me a confusing sign, a kind of wave. He asked me to move.
"What?" I asked. I didn't get it. He wanted me to move.
"Why?" I asked.
He made it clear that he "wasn't saying I couldn't feed my baby" but "you can't do it here". He wanted me to move to a bench somewhere down the hallway.
"But this is comfortable," I said. Yeah, but he told me to go.
"Um, this museum is like, full of pictures of breasts!" I said in dismay, feeling a bit stunned now. "Can I ask why I can't sit here?"
He told me I was "making people uncomfortable". I surveyed the people around me. They appeared to be mostly Europeans. They appeared quite comfortable, especially those seated at with me on the long couch.
I thought about asking to speak with a supervisor.
But I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, I would cry. The hormones work that way, you know. Slowly I moved towards the direction the guard had indicated. At first I saw only two very exposed benches behind a fenced off area where a bauhaus sign was going up. Then I saw where he really meant: a narrow bench in a hallway on the way to the restroom. Absurd. But I went.
Needless to say this made my visit a lot less fun.
I would like to go back with more mothers to have a nurse in. About 40 of us could fit comfortably at the Ron Arad couch. Where can I find lactivists?
A guard gave me a confusing sign, a kind of wave. He asked me to move.
"What?" I asked. I didn't get it. He wanted me to move.
"Why?" I asked.
He made it clear that he "wasn't saying I couldn't feed my baby" but "you can't do it here". He wanted me to move to a bench somewhere down the hallway.
"But this is comfortable," I said. Yeah, but he told me to go.
"Um, this museum is like, full of pictures of breasts!" I said in dismay, feeling a bit stunned now. "Can I ask why I can't sit here?"
He told me I was "making people uncomfortable". I surveyed the people around me. They appeared to be mostly Europeans. They appeared quite comfortable, especially those seated at with me on the long couch.
I thought about asking to speak with a supervisor.
But I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, I would cry. The hormones work that way, you know. Slowly I moved towards the direction the guard had indicated. At first I saw only two very exposed benches behind a fenced off area where a bauhaus sign was going up. Then I saw where he really meant: a narrow bench in a hallway on the way to the restroom. Absurd. But I went.
Needless to say this made my visit a lot less fun.
I would like to go back with more mothers to have a nurse in. About 40 of us could fit comfortably at the Ron Arad couch. Where can I find lactivists?
RE: outraged
raquelshira comments: no!! We need to mobilize. What mamaspiritrising org exists in nyc to do a quick turnaround nurse_in at moma?i hope u flashed some serious nipple at the agent!!
outraged
Melech and i are at moma and i was just asked to move from comfy couch to isolated bench to nurse! Because apparantly ppl who came to see paintings of naked breasts (they had a few here last time i checked) were "uncomfortable" seeing the real thing.
Friday, September 11, 2009
The Best Meal I Had this Week
Was probably the salad I had today at three in the afternoon. I ate it on the subway, over Melech's sleeping head with him Bjorned to me. I was on my way way downtown to pick up his passport. The salad was from Westside Market on my corner. It was made of spinach leaves, red onions, a hard-boiled egg, shavings of Parmesan cheese, corn, hearts of palm, a few slivers of peppers, and a mediocre vinaigrette. Without thinking I had approximated my favorite Sylva salat italki (Italian salad). Like that one it needed salt which I was unable to add on the subway.
It was the best meal because though he was attached to me, no one was climbing on me, sucking on me, or screaming in my ear.
Other meals today: as soon as I got breakfast ready, screaming baby boy demands his breakfast. Ahuva is about to be late for her 3rd day back at school (the precious "phase in" period involving gradually increasing intervals of supervised attendance) unless I cede my ready bagel half to Adi for his breakfast. I do have a nice coffee to enjoy as I nurse, but the actual eating will wait at least another hour.
Dinner? Ordered Chinese food. Was inspired by Ahuva, now 2 years 8 months, who, on the way home from day care (today was also the first day with lunch at school) grabbed my hand at the entrance to Ollie's and said, "Let's go out for dumplings! C'mon, Mom!". It was crowded with returned Columbia students so I said "No space!" but promised dumplings for dinner. Hardly my ideal shabbat dinner but delicious. Well, the first two warm bites were, despite Mel at breast. Then he kept howling to the point where I decided to comply with Ahuva's suggestion to take him into my room to bed. That didn't work, but it did make my food cool before I got back to it.
Ah, but there was that salad...
It was the best meal because though he was attached to me, no one was climbing on me, sucking on me, or screaming in my ear.
Other meals today: as soon as I got breakfast ready, screaming baby boy demands his breakfast. Ahuva is about to be late for her 3rd day back at school (the precious "phase in" period involving gradually increasing intervals of supervised attendance) unless I cede my ready bagel half to Adi for his breakfast. I do have a nice coffee to enjoy as I nurse, but the actual eating will wait at least another hour.
Dinner? Ordered Chinese food. Was inspired by Ahuva, now 2 years 8 months, who, on the way home from day care (today was also the first day with lunch at school) grabbed my hand at the entrance to Ollie's and said, "Let's go out for dumplings! C'mon, Mom!". It was crowded with returned Columbia students so I said "No space!" but promised dumplings for dinner. Hardly my ideal shabbat dinner but delicious. Well, the first two warm bites were, despite Mel at breast. Then he kept howling to the point where I decided to comply with Ahuva's suggestion to take him into my room to bed. That didn't work, but it did make my food cool before I got back to it.
Ah, but there was that salad...
Friday, August 21, 2009
Vive le roi!
Laura, Adi, and big sister Ahuva are proud to welcome our baby boy
Melech Karl Mahalel
7 August 2009
9 lbs 4 oz (4.2 kg)
So far his main interests include eating, sleeping, and looking around while making cute squeaking noises. We’re all feeling great after a relatively easy delivery but as you can see by the lateness of this mailing, he keeps us busy!
Melech means “King” in Hebrew. For more about why we chose this name, see my blog entry: http://cookingcholent.blogspot.com/2009/08/melech-karl-mahalel.html
For pictures from Melech’s bris:
http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=mah.dav&target=ALBUM&id=5370758890473021361&authkey=Gv1sRgCJG9oeeoub7qVQ&invite=CICblrYF&feat=email http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLanding.action?c=arqv28k3.3c1metdn&x=0&y=qye3fh&localeid=en_US
More and ongoing family pics on our phanfare site: http://mahalel.phanfare.com/
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
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