Flu Shots

Posted on October 26, 2011 by holylandhipstermom

Long time, no update. I decided to try to be consistent and, rather that write these long, drawn out blog posts, I will just write what I can no matte the length. Today, DH leaves work early so we can do our weekly errands. Because Fridays are so short and usually are spent on Shabbat errands, we need Wednesday to take care of the things we just can’t get done on Fridays.

Today, we decided to do the responsible thing, and get everyone flu shots. Our Dr. suggested we get it done at the beginning of the season, especially since last season I was completely out of it because of the pregnancy and didn’t manage to get Baby J. and I flu shots until the season (and my pregnancy) was practically over. Not my finest hour as a Mother.

So, I made sure Baby S. was well fed and cleaned, that I had cookies and as many pacifiers as my diaper bag could hold for Baby J., and tried to psyched the kids up for a shot before we left the house. The girls were happy to be in the car, something they are rarely in now that Baby J.’s gan is conveniently next door to our apartment. Unfortunately, Baby J. fell asleep almost immediately and I knew it was going to be really difficult to keep her happy.

We got to the Wolfson Medical Center and I opted to grab Baby S. out of her car seat and leave the toddler rousing to DH. He picked Baby J. up gently and we headed indoors. I was shocked at how busy they were at 4:30 p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon! The poor nurse looked like she was going to lose her mind, there was an actual line of people waiting to speak with her.

A woman with a baby stood in front of me online and started talking to me, claiming that I looked familiar. I smiled and said, could be, but didn’t get into it with her. I didn’t think she looked familiar so I figured she must have somehow Facebook stalked me or just seen me out on the streets of Jerusalem. When our turn came to speak with the nurse at the window, I told her we were there for 4 flu shots.

She was NOT amused.

She took all four of our insurance cards and looked up in the computer to make sure we were on the list to receive flu shots. We were. She then asked who our Dr. was, to make sure that we in fact were patients at the Medical Center.

Verified.

Next, she told us to come around and into the nursing station where she got out four injections. She told us, because Baby S. and Baby J. were so young, that they would need to get injections in two different parts. They couldn’t get the entire shot in one go.

I thought that was really odd but I told her to just go ahead and do it. Baby J.’s gan is a veritable cesspool of germs and bacteria and I want her as prepared as possible for the winter illnesses. Same with Baby S., since Baby J. brings all that crap into the home.

And then I asked her if she thought I was a terrible Mother, because I was willing to give my kids two injections as opposed to one. She just kept asking me, over and over, if I was SURE that I wanted to give them 2 shots. And, I was really sure, that if that meant they would already be slightly covered from infection, that would work in my book.

I tried to psych Baby J. up and told her that after the shot, we were going to get ice cream. Well, she did the cutest little happy dance when she heard that. We all laughed, and then the nurse told us that they kids couldn’t get the shot. They didn’t have injections for children, just adults, and we need to go to our medical providers offices to get the kids innoculated.

Crap.

Now I was on the hook for ice cream, and really for no reason! Gleeful, the nurse really stabbed DH with the needle for his shot. I think she was just so happy that she didn’t have to give the kids shots too. Either way, DH and I walked away with bum shoulders and slightly broken spirits as we were hoping to just get the whole flu shot thing out of the way.

As for Baby J, she got her ice cream (and some cake and some smoked salmon too) and I learned a valuable lesson. Don’t promise a treat until AFTER the kid gets a shot.

 

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Happy New Year

Posted on October 5, 2011 by holylandhipstermom

Thanks to Aish for this great graphic! It’s a New Year and already I’m behind in my resolution to update my blog more frequently. I wish I had time to sit at my computer and not work for a client, or shop for food, or quickly post photos on my Facebook page so my family in the States can virtually participate in Baby J’s and Baby S’s childhood, or send off a quick tweet asking for child advice/recipes/gift ideas. But, unfortunately, whenever I finally have a few minutes to sit down at my computer, I’m really focused on all these other things.

That, and I’ve been working on launching a new blog. That exciting news I hope to share with everyone after Yom Kippur!

Our August was wonderful, and I hope to be able to do a quick trip recap since it was truly a remarkable 3 weeks in the States. We lived through both the earthquake and Hurricane Irene, and made it back to Jerusalem B”H in one piece.

September was spent reinforcing toilet training, getting Baby J. used to a new gan, new and older kids, and new gannanot. DH had to get back into the swing of things at work, and I was left picking up the pieces of my work life as I’d lost a client at the end of August. Fortunately, I was able to throw myself into spending time with Baby S and trying to deal with her health. While in the States, we went to my childhood pediatrician, who suggested that I stay off of both dairy and wheat as Baby S. is probably allergic to at least one of them. Needless to say, I’ve been thrust into this new gluten free lifestyle and I’m trying to educate myself before I starve. I’ll be honest, there are days when I’m very, very hungry.

But Rosh Hashanah finally came and I went into the New Year with a great attitude. And, it was that attitude that made the 3 day holiday one of the most enjoyable holiday I’ve ever had. The girls were on their best behavior, we spent a number of meals with family and friends, DH and I counted our blessings at how fortunate we are in life, and I managed to turn a year older with little fanfare but lots and lots of love.

Yom Kippur is in a couple of days and I already feel the stress bearing down on my shoulders. Will I be forgiven for all of my sins from last year? Will G-d be merciful and grant us all a year full of good health, happiness, financial success and stability? Will G-d grant DH and the girls another year of life and good health? Will G-d listen to my prayers and grant me my wishes?

I sincerely hope so!

May all my Jewish readers be inscribed in the Book of Life, and may you all have a year full of good health, happiness, joy and peace.

Shanah Tova!

 

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Conformity or Nonconformist?

Posted on August 3, 2011 by holylandhipstermom

Eleven months ago, as I walked Baby J. into her new gan for her first day, nerves rippled in my stomach. My baby was growing up, and was ready to move into a full time day care environment, even though I was desperate to keep her at home with me for another year. But, she was a very social child and we recognized her need to interact with children her own age.

We selected this gan carefully, and I was confident that she would be happy in this loving and nurturing environment fostered by an amazingly warm and caring staff (I was right). The first day lasted only a couple of hours and parents were asked to stay, so that the children could slowly acclimate to their new environment.

Breakfast was served first, and all the children were encouraged to sit at their pre-assigned places. I looked at all the different little faces, clustered around six tables. They eyed each other warily while training another gaze on their parent, making sure they weren’t suddenly abandoned. Baby J. was on a special table, the one assigned for children with food allergies. She was allergic to all dairy products, and her table only had two other children with lactose problems.

She didn’t seem to mind that there were only three children at her table, when the other tables had 5-6 children. I, on the other hand, started to fret terribly. Here she was, singled out as different, and sitting with the other “different” children at a “special” table. The philosophy behind the decision made sense, it was easier this way for the gan staff to make sure they didn’t accidentally feed her dairy or that she wouldn’t reach across the table to eat from someone else’s plate who might be eating dairy.

But while rationally I applauded this decision, emotionally I didn’t want her to be branded as different from her peers.  I worried that this would impact the way she socialized, that the children wouldn’t want to be her friend because she had a milk allergy, that she would somehow be ostracized from the pack.

I smiled as she waved her pita at me from the table and tried to quell my fears. I didn’t want my insecurity to trickle down to her, I didn’t want her to pick up on any anxiety and think that this wasn’t a great place.

Suddenly, she stood up from the table, pita still in hand, and ran into the other room. Looking around excitedly, she raced over to the play kitchen and started to play. I ran after her and tried to pull the piece of pita out of her hand. I told her that it was breakfast time and not play time, and that she needed to come back to the table where all the other kids were. Not surprisingly, she started to complain and cry. She didn’t want to be at the table anymore, she wanted to play! I tried to reason with her, pointing out how all the other kids were sitting nicely at their spots at the table and eating their breakfast. Gently, I began tugging her back towards to other room, and she howled her protest.

This wasn’t the first time Baby J. decided to be an individual. When I took her to music classes, she ignored all the children sitting in a circle and danced around the room instead. When the instructor asked the children to line up to take instruments, she ignored him completely and ran out of the room. I suddenly imagined all the obedient children at circle time, while mine wandering through the gan, lost in her own thoughts, completely ignoring what everyone else was doing.

Suddenly, the gannent showed up, broke me out of my daydream, and demanded to know what I was doing. Shocked, I explained that I was trying to get my daughter to return to the table where all the other kids were sitting. She told me to leave my child alone, that it was fine for her to play, that the purpose of the day was for her to have a good time and get used to the gan. Everything else, she scolded, would come much later.

I felt chastised, and humbled, and even ashamed. I thought about my reaction and I realized, I was so fixated on Baby J. fitting in, that I completely overlooked her individuality, her self confidence, the fact that she didn’t care that all the other kids were doing one thing and she was doing something else. In that moment, I realized what an amazing child I have, and I hoped that she would forever embrace her sense of self and do what she wanted to do, regardless of what everyone else was doing. (Note, I say this within reason. I don’t want her to be flitting around the room in first grade, ignoring the teacher trying to give a lesson.)

As the year went on, Baby J. learned how to sit with all the other children at circle time. She learned how to line up with the other kids when they handed out musical instruments. She outgrew her milk allergy and moved onto the other tables, finally able to eat all milk products! She discovered how to share, learned to wait her turn, and to participate in the activity of the moment, and not run off to play in another room.  She grew up, she made friends, she blossomed.

And so, when we went to her end of the year party last Friday, I was confident that she would sit in her assigned seat. She didn’t, choosing instead to climb over the seat and sit in my lap. I embraced her happily, patiently. I knew this time that, when she was ready, she would join the other children. I knew how excited she was about her performance, so I let her take her time.

I noticed other parents coaxing their children to their seats, encouraging them to join the other kids in the circle and participate in the performances. One parent even forcibly sat their child in the seat, eliciting screams and cries from the reluctant child. I felt bad for the child, but I empathized with the parent. They just wanted their kid to fit in.

And then, after a couple of songs, Baby J. climbed over her chair, spread her wings, and flew around the room like a butterfly.

It was one of the happiest moments of my life.

Is you child an individual? Do you accept his/her quirks or do you try to get them to conform? Let me know in the comment section below!

 

 

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A taste of summer at the Inbal Hotel

Posted on July 14, 2011 by holylandhipstermom

Tuna carpaccio with balsamic vinegar, olive oil, sea salt and parmesan shavings

When I saw the tweet from the Inbal Hotel inviting Israel based foodie bloggers to come to a special tasting of the new summer menu at their five star Sofia restaurant, and to sample the fare of Executive Chef Moti Buchbut, I barely paused before quickly getting in touch.  What an amazing opportunity, and certainly not one I wanted to pass up!

Arriving at the lobby of the Inbal hotel brought back such memories. As a seminary girl, I was constantly at the hotel, meeting with guests, friends and family members in the lobby, to pick up packages or shmooze. I was also fortunate to spend a Succot meal with a close family friend and, let me tell you, eating a meal in the Inbal’s Succah is an incredible experience. Then, a couple of years later, I found myself sitting with my blind dates in the lobby, sipping a cold drink and counting the minutes until the date ended.

The lobby remains the same, but now was the perfect time to make some new memories.

I arrived five minutes late and the rest of the diners had already polished off the first course, a gorgeous tuna carpaccio dish!  At the round table sat a number of Inbal’s executives, and fellow foodie bloggers Sarah Melamed of Food Bridge, Yael Ruder and Ariella Fixler Alon. Ashamed that I missed the first course, I quickly slid into my seat, fumbled with my camera and purse, picked up the folder the hotel staff kindly put together, and nearly missed the gorgeous view!  After composing myself, I laid my napkin in my lap and gazed out the window at the beautiful scenery. You can’t deny that the view from the Sofia restaurant is one of a kind, and taking in the beautiful greenery and the architecture of the City, reminded me why I love living in Jerusalem so much.

Fortunately, I didn’t have too much time to look out the window as a server quickly placed the tuna carpaccio in front of me. I’m not a big fan of carpaccio, but this dish actually changed my opinion of carpaccio. The acid in the dish was wonderful, as I delighted in the tangy taste of vinegar and kalamata olives (my absolutely favorites!). And the parmesan shavings were just heavenly! You can tell it was a good parmesan, and the addition just elevated the dish.

Onion soup with parmesan melted bruschetta

All caught up, I was ready to tuck into the next course, which was onion soup with parmesan melted bruschetta. I was happy to see parmesan once again; us cheese lovers really do love our parmesan! The use of red wine instead of white infused the soup with a wonderful bold flavor. I was a little surprised to see the soup on a summer menu, expecting perhaps something using more seasonal vegetables and served cold, but it was delicious nonetheless. If they decide to keep it on their Fall/Winter menu, I could certainly see myself enjoying a steaming bowl of soup to ward off the Jerusalem chill.

Green Salad, an aesthetically pleasing Moti Buchbut creation

When the server placed this green salad in front of me, I started doubting I would make it through all 10 courses! If this plate was tasting menu size, I can’t even begin to image how it would look served as a main course! The dish had a dizzying array of ingredients:  the lettuce heart, chopped tomato and kalamata olives, a healthy portion of bulgarit cheese, parsley, mint, basil, dill, chives, olive oil, sea salt, lemon juice, pine nuts and passionfruit! Phew, that’s a mouthful! Yet, when I tucked into the salad, my taste buds literally exploded into a happy dance. The addition of passionfruit to the dressing was culinary genius. I made a mental note to add passionfruit to all of my vinaigrettes; it was innovative and perfect.

I mentioned that this plate certainly wasn’t a good first date dish, as many single women would find it intimidating to eat while trying to impress a potential paramour. And, as we debated the etiquette of pasta eating on a first date, the spaghetti pomodoro arrived.

Spaghetti pomodoro with fresh basil and grated parmesan cheese

Every Italian restaurant needs a good pasta dish, and the spaghetti pomodoro was unremarkable but delicious. I liked the little touches; the plate was warm and we each got individual bowls of extra grated parmesan. I would have loved to see a different grated cheese though, a Gruyere would have been fabulous! But, you just can’t compare the taste of freshly made pasta to what you cook from a bag. And sometimes, you really hunger for good pasta.

Had I known three fish dishes were to follow, I never would have polished off my tasting menu portion of spaghetti pomodoro!  And, what these dishes did for me, was solidify that there is a new place in town to eat amazing fish. I love going out to eat fish, and whenever we go to a dairy restaurant, I skip the pasta, quiches and unique salads, and order the salmon. I was absolutely thrilled to be introduced to perfectly cooked filets of barramundi, trout and denise.

Baramundi fish, which is also known as Asian Sea Bass

This dish was a true culinary masterpiece. I wanted to get up and applaud Chef Buchbut and then lick my plate clean. The plate was a stunning work of art, elements put together in such a way that I felt almost intimidated to take a bite. Barramundi, also known as Asian Sea Bass, was cooked perfectly. It rested on top of a mushroom risoto cooked in white wine. Surrounding the fish was cream of leek, a vinaigrette of green olive oil with madagascar black pepper and cubes of maple syrup drenched sweet potato. Topping the fish were mandolin thin slices of potato that were cooked to perfection, a salad of radish sprouts and one perfectly cooked snow pea.

Fillet of Trout

The fillet of trout was served with perfectly crisped skin, on cubes of potatoes cooked sofrito style with wild mushrooms. On top of the trout were cut celery, cubes of tomato and onion, capers, and olive oil and lemon juice.  In addition to the delightfully fresh acid of the lemon juice, was a flavorful red wine sauce. I was thrilled to see capers in a dish, and really loved the fact that Chef Buchbut infused Latin flavors in the sofrito style potatoes.

Denise with ratatouille on garlic soaked brioche

When this plate came out and I spied the yellow coulis, I immediately thought of fresh mangoes. They are finally in season and I was impressed with the seasonality of ingredients. And when Chef Buchbut told us it was actually yellow pepper, I was still amazed. The color was so vivid, it brought life to the plate. I was slightly disappointed at the mild flavor, hoping for more spice ala Bobby Flay. Once again, the skin on the denise was so crisp, I could have pulled the meat off and eaten the skin like a chip. But the fish was the true star of the dish. I thought the ratatouille of tomato and root vegetables were tasty, but the garlic soaked brioche was misplaced. I would have much preferred the brioche served in a separate bread basket along side the fish.

With time ticking down, and gan pickup for Baby J. just minutes away, I knew there was no way I could stay for two more courses. Fortunately, dessert was served in seconds!

"Ravioli" filled with chocolate ganache, coconut ice cream and strips of plum and apricot

Chef Buchbut explained that you can’t have an Italian restaurant without ravioli, and instead of a doughy pastry, I happily bit into a crunchy almost tempura-style battered dough. The chocolate ganache was slightly bitter, not overly sweet, and still steaming, which was a delightful touch to the dish. I thought the coconut ice cream was okay, but would have loved a mango or cherry sorbet instead. For some reason, I don’t associate coconut as a summer flavor, and would have preferred a cool sorbet of mango, cherry or watermelon. The plate was another work of art though, where the beautiful ribbons of fresh plum and apricots, and dots of caramel apple sauce, were truly pleasing to the eye.

After a few bites, I blotted my  mouth, apologized for having to eat and run, thanked my hosts and gave kudos to the Chef of the hour, and raced out the door.

All in all, it was a wonderful culinary experience. Chef Buchbut really brought some innovation to his creations and introduced flavor pairings that will have this diner coming back for more!

To learn more about the Inbal Hotel, visit their website. And, to make reservations at Sofia, click here!

 

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Summer Smoothies

Posted on July 11, 2011 by holylandhipstermom

My Philips blender

Sometimes I think my kitchen is the Bermuda Triangle, ingredients and equipment I buy for one recipe or another, somehow disappear. Or rather, I forget the reason why I bought said ingredient or equipment, and they end up wasting away in dark cabinets until next Pesach when I toss everything out or put everything away.

I decided it’s time to change that about my personality. It’s part of my new “feed my family healthy food” kick, and now is the perfect time since Baby J. is getting over two days of high fever and strep. She refused to eat for almost three days and I found myself trying to coax her into eating by offering cookies. Fortunately for me, she refused even the chocolate chip cookies, and so now I’m trying a whole new tactic. I’m going to make healthy, nutritious and delicious foods that she’ll want to eat, instead of asking me for ice cream for dinner.

First, I decided to take some inventory of the jars, cans, powders and liquids that are languishing in my pantry or refrigerator because I have no idea why I  bought them. I’m pretty sure the ginger beer in my fridge is from a Jamie Geller recipe, but can’t remember which one. The can of refried beans and jar of marinated red peppers is from a Brigitte recipe, probably a quesadillas, but I’m not sure how come I never made it. I have agave nectar in my pantry and that’s when I was all about Bethenny Frankel and she’s all about agave nectar, but I’m not sure which one of her recipes I wanted to try. And I’m at a complete loss when it comes to the two large cans of pineapple chunks, the jar of marinated sour cherries, wasabi powder, and the plethora of cranberry sauce cans I’ve managed to accumulate since last Thanksgiving.

And I’m no better when it comes to kitchen equipment. I have gorgeous pillivuyt ramekins that are collecting dust under the sink. I used them once to make a recipe from Top Chef’s Steven Aspirino for flourless five-spice chocolate cake that my DH told me tasted like Havdalah (from the cloves in the five spice). So, away they went. There’s a gorgeous rolling pin that I wanted to use to make my own pie crust, but I’ve never actually done it, stored in the back of my pantry. I’m hoping Arielle will help me make pie crust and put my rolling pin to good use (hey, and maybe the ramekins too!)

And then, there’s the blender. This morning, when the idea came to mind to make DH and Baby J. healthy summer smoothies, some hazy memory of a blender came flooding back to me. I was pretty sure I had bought a blender, years ago, to puree soups and I probably used it to make one specific soup, and then washed it and put it away in the back of a cupboard, where I promptly forgot about it.

This morning, after taking Baby J.’s temperature (which was normal and had been for 24 hours), I shipped her and DH out of the house and went hunting in my kitchen. Fortunately, my kitchen is tiny, so it didn’t take long to find the blender. I reassembled, plugged it in, and watch with satisfaction as the blade whirrled around.

You see, last Thursday, I went a little summer fruit happy and placed a giant order at my green grocers. I now have a home bursting with delicious summer fruits: cherries, black seedless grapes, apricots, peaches, nectarines, mangoes and lemons! I asked my Grandmother for her fruit soup recipe and, in true Grandma fashion, she told me to throw everything in a pot, add water, add sugar, and cook until soft. Not my kind of recipe. When I told DH I was going to make fruit soup, he asked me if my teeth were bothering me. I got the hint that he felt fruit soup was for old people (I personally think, with a sprig of mint, it could be a delicious first course for Shabbat lunch) and so I moved on.

And that’s when the idea of summer smoothies just hit me! We have a huge gallon of milk that expires on the 14th, a newly opened box of soy milk, and tons of delicious fruit! So, I immediately put two ripe bananas into the freezer since my ice tray hasn’t been filled since before Pesach and the tray to catch the ice is full of Dr. Praeger’s broccoli pancakes. Next, I determined that last week’s watermelon is no longer good, and I made a mental note to toss it once DH gets home from work.

Today’s summer smoothie is going to be frozen bananas, milk (for Baby J.) and mangoes with maybe a little agave nectar for added sweetness! I’m going to experiment, maybe also pick up some dates since I know DH likes dates, and some flax seed (since that’s very healthy for you) and work on a variety of summer smoothies. I’m sure there will be some hits, and some misses. Check back at the end of the week for the winning smoothie flavors!

Do you make smoothies for your family? What flavor combinations are your favorites? Let me know in the comment section below!

 

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Creamy Mushroom Barley Soup

Posted on June 24, 2011 by holylandhipstermom

The barley is hidden beneath all that oregano!

It’s certainly summer here in Jerusalem, and I find that there are two types of people. Those who love the heat and throw their windows open at night to embrace whatever cool air we have here in the mountains. And then, they’re folks like us, who crank up the air conditioning to the point where we can walk around in sweats and cuddle underneath our blankets.

And when it’s nice and arctic indoors, I don’t mind serving soup for first course Friday night. So here’s my easy recipe for creamy mushroom barley soup. Don’t let the name fool you, there isn’t actually cream in the soup. Rather, it’s the cup of pearl barley that caused this creamy consistency! Either way, it’s absolutely delicious!

Creamy Mushroom Barley Soup

Ingredients

  • 1 onion, diced
  • 1 package shitake mushrooms, rinsed and sliced
  • 3 carrots, peeled and diced into 1 inch pieces
  • 4-5 celery stalks, diced into 1 inch pieces
  • 1 cup of pearl barley, rinsed
  • 2 beef boullion cubes
  • 1 TBSP oregano
  • 1 TBSP chopped parsley
  • 1 garlic clove, minced
  • salt and pepper, to taste
  • Olive oil
  • 12 cups of water

 

Directions

  1. Coat bottom of soup pot with olive oil and heat
  2. Add onions and saute until translucent, making sure not to brown
  3. Add remaining ingredients, mix and bring to a boil. Cover pot, lower flame and simmer until the barley is cooked and vegetables are fork tender

This soup recipe freezes really well! We are eating the second batch tonight!

What’s on your Shabbat menu?

 

 

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The Giant Shove

Posted on June 13, 2011 by holylandhipstermom

Don't Push Me! Push a Push Pop!

This past Shabbos, my in-laws co-sponsored a Kiddush in their Shul in honor of my niece’s Bat-Mitzvah and for Baby S.’s birth. The Kiddush was a long time coming and, while I had delayed it as much as possible, it got to the point where I couldn’t delay it any longer. My in-laws really wanted to give the Kiddush and no matter how uncomfortable I felt with myself, I had to suck it up and attend. It was so nice of them to want to celebrate Baby S. with a Kiddush, that I felt bad even having issues with it.

But, let’s be real here, 12 weeks after Baby S.’s birth and I’m in that limbo stage. The stage where my old clothing close but are super, super tight so that I can’t breathe when I sit down, and wearing maternity will make people think that I’m pregnant again.

And then, there was the Kim Kardashian hair debacle. Oh, how I adore Kim Kardashian’s hair. It’s beautiful: raven tresses, thick and shiny, flowing ever so gently over her shoulders in lustrous waves. Last year, I decided that I was going to get me some Kim Kardashian hair. And so, for more than 11 months, I’ve been growing my hair. With the pregnancy, my own locks have gotten really nice and thick. But, I’ve been blessed with the typical Jewfro, and no matter how much product I pump into it, or how often I apply the hair mask, I just can’t tame the beast. Granted, I cover my hair and have a couple of falls and wigs, but I still wanted to be able to wear a fashionable hat over my Kim Kardashian hair. But alas, it wasn’t meant to be, and my hair dresser was completely booked up on Friday and so I couldn’t even schedule an appointment for a nice blow out. And, as become typical for our little household on Friday, I once again found myself taking my pre-Shabbat shower during the siren and there was no way I could blow dry and hot iron my hair in the 18 minutes.

So, there I was, welcoming the Shabbat of our daughter’s Kiddush with soaking wet, ratty hair and nary a thing to wear. I tried not to be anxious about it, but it was very difficult to do, and so instead I concentrated on making sure DH and the girls looked their best.

And boy did they! Baby J. was wearing a beautiful sundress from Children’s Place that was hot pink and tangerine (According to June’s InStyle magazine, those are really hot colors for this summer) and while we had a little fight over her hair, she managed to allow me to put it half up in a ponytail so that everyone could see her beautiful face (I am biased). DH looked handsome as ever in a crisp, yellow button down shirt and black slacks. He got a haircut last week and so his hair looked really nice. And, the girl of the hour, Baby S. wore an adorable onesie dress with ruffle sleeves that showed off her adorable rolls of thigh fat. There’s nothing I love more than a baby with rolls, and this gal’s got plenty!

As for me, I ended up grabbing a black maternity skirt and a plain, white t-shirt. I wore my fall and a black and white silk scarf in my hair, and managed to put on a little eye makeup to minimize the dark, black circles underneath my eyes.

Shabbat was a scorcher! We got a bit of a late start and I decided to wear Baby S. in the BabyBjorn while pushing her carriage. In hindsight, we never should have bothered with the carriage as I literally wore her to shul and wore her home. She never even rested in the carriage and so it was just an extra piece of baby gear we didn’t need. Baby J. was super excited, she LOVES DH’s family and couldn’t wait to see her Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, Great Aunts and Uncles, and all her cousins.

By the time I got to shul, I was literally drenched. When I took Baby S. out of the baby carrier and handed her to my mother-in-law, there was a baby shaped sweat stain on my shirt. I’m sure I smelled wonderful too! I waited until after davening and the shul to clear out and head upstairs to the Kiddush to feed Baby S., so she would be calm and happy for the crowded Kiddush.

It was a good thing I fed her, as the room was jam packed with people and she would have been screaming her head off. But, with a full belly, she was able to take the crowd in stride.

And that’s when DH and I became absolutely overwhelmed with the Kiddush. We were surrounded my well wishes, family and friends, and we were trying to figure out how to give everyone attention while taking care of our own children. At some point, I thought Baby J. was with DH and DH thought Baby J. was with me. I spied her, minutes later, with white powder covering her face and mouth, with a giant piece of chocolate chip cake in her fist. Laughing, I asked her where she got the cake, and she just smiled at me and ran away into the crowds. I managed to track DH down and he told me that he had force fed her some chulent and kugel, and that she somehow got into the Linzer cookies (good taste my child, those are some delicious cookies!) and has been helping herself to whatever she could find on the table.

I had a couple of friends at the Kiddush, and also had to be social with my in-laws friends who came over to wish me a Mazal Tov, that I was beyond overwhelmed. I just wanted to sit in a corner with my friends and hide. And, honestly, that’s exactly what I did. DH felt the same way, and he took up camp on the other side of the room with his friends. My friends took turns holding Baby S. and, in all honesty, we just let Baby J. do her thing.

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my pediatric cardiologist standing at the Kiddush table talking to someone. When I was pregnant with Baby J, our nuchal translucency test results came back very bad. Anticipating the possibility that she could be born with Downs Syndrome, we went to a pediatric cardiologist to do scans of her heart while in vitro to make sure she was okay. A lot of baby’s born with Downs Syndrome have heart problems, and we wanted to know in advance so we could be prepared. Our Doctor happened to also attend my in-laws shul and he was wonderful during my pregnancy. Baby J. did, in fact, have a hole in her heart while in vitro and so it was a good thing we knew before the birth, so that we could be prepared when she was born to make sure that she didn’t have any heart problems.

Now, 2 1/2 years later, we are very blessed that the hole in her heart closed up on its own and that she is B”H healthy. And what does she do? The child, who was running around like a crazy child at the Kiddush, chasing her cousins and having a good time, decided to give a giant shove to her pediatric cardiologist.

At that point, I had wanted to get up, take her by the hand, bring her over to the Doctor and make her apologize for shoving. I wanted to take that opportunity to teach her the lesson that we do not push or shove people.

What did I do? Nothing. I just let it go. I watched her grab another piece of cake off the table (which she didn’t eat, she just held in her hand), and then go running after her cousins again. The Doctor looked annoyed but he just went back to his conversation.

Hours later, during the walk home, I told DH the story and how helpless I felt about making it an opportunity to discipline our child. I felt like the Shul Kiddush just isn’t a normal, social situation. The atmosphere almost invites pushing and shoving, as people literally jostle their way to pile plates full of chulent and kugel. So, how could I actually discipline her when she was literally just doing exactly what all the adults in that room had been doing?

So, what would you have done in that situation? Would you have disciplined the child for shoving? Also, when you’re in a place where there are a number of family and friends, and everyone is vying for your attention (mostly brief, not necessarily people looking to hold deep, meaningful conversations), how do you balance being social with taking care of your little children?

Let me know in the comment section below!

 

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The Shavuot Blintzes

Posted on June 8, 2011 by holylandhipstermom

Non-Dairy Cherry Cheesecake in lieu of Blintzes

I’ve lived in Israel for almost five years, and these holidays still get to me, the one day affairs. I grew up celebrating two days of Shavuot, and sometimes I feel deprived because we have to go to work tomorrow yet everyone outside of Israel will be relaxing and enjoying the Chag for another day. (Granted, I don’t feel this way Pesach time when I can eat Chametz an entire day earlier.)

Last night, we went to DH’s parents for the traditional Shavuot sushi dinner. I’m fuzzy on the history of the tradition, but in this family of sushi lovers, it is a really interesting experience. The tables took up the entire expanse of living and dining rooms in my in-laws home and it was set beautifully. Each table setting had chopsticks, bowls for soy sauce, and square black plates to pile high the sushi rice, squares of nori, fresh fish, ginger, cucumber, avocado, tamago, edemame, etc. We were 27 altogether, including Baby S., and the room was abuzz with noise, excitement and energy.

And I couldn’t have felt more alone. It still amazes me, that I can be in a crowded room and feel so alone.

It’s not that people were mean or ignored me. Quite the contrary, DH’s Aunt made a real effort to come to my end of the table to have conversations and the cousins took turns playing with Baby J. or carrying around Baby S. But, I was the lone American (my daughters not included since they are American but haven’t lived in the States) in the room and most of the time, I feel that DH’s family just doesn’t “get” me.

I also always get a bit sad during these holidays when I’m just so far away from my family and friends. Shavuot was the holiday my Zaydie joined us and I looked forward all year round to having him in the house for two whole days. Granted, the man didn’t live that far away from us and while we would visit him on the Lower East Side almost every Sunday, this was the opportunity for us to spend quality time with him when he wasn’t working at his paper goods store.

When I was much younger, I would stand by the front door and watch the street corner, waiting for him to emerge. I would stand for hours, trying to visualize him stepping off of the subway at 71st and Continental Avenue in Forest Hills, climbing the steps up to the street, waiting in line for the bus and finally getting on the Q65A, then riding over the highway and into Kew Gardens Hills where he would finally pull the bell for the stop after Main Street. And then, I would count the blocks he would walk until he finally made it to our corner. I would get so excited when I saw him walking down the block and I’d race around the house shouting his arrival so that everyone knew Zaydie was finally here. And then he was in the house, giving out caresses, calling us all “Sweetie Gal” or “Sonny Boy,” hanging up his coat in the hall closet and pulling out his mustard colored sweater to ward off the air conditioned chill, before fishing quarters out of his pockets and handing them to us.  Sometimes he came with a pocket full of balloons, which he would blow up right then and there, and we would spend hours playing with them in the living room. I, like the balloons, was deflated when the Yom Tov was over and my Dad drove Zaydie back home to the Lower East Side.

And while it wasn’t Shavuot in our house without Zaydie being around, it also wasn’t Shavuot without my Grandmother’s blintzes. We had them once a year and they were the most delicious blintzes I have ever eaten in my entire life. I constantly go out to dairy restaurants and order the blintzes to compare, and I’ve yet to find one that surpasses my Grandmother’s.

She would prepare the batter for the crepe and, when the pan was nice and hot, would spoon enough to form a perfect circle. It always amazed me how she knew when it was time to turn them over, I’m constantly trying to make crepes and I either turn them too early or too late. But, she was so experienced making crepes that she knew exactly when it was time. And, with her fingertips, she would pick up the edge of the crepe and quickly flip them over. When they were cooked through, she would flip them out onto rows and rows of paper towels lining the kitchen counters.

I wouldn’t recommend using fingertips to flip crepes, but my Grandmother is a Holocaust survivor who spent years in a labor concentration camp making bullets for the Nazi’s. The work plus the horrible conditions of the camp left her fingers in pretty bad shape. And then, when the War was over and she finally made it to the United States, she spent years as a sweatshop seamstress. Combined, the work left her fingers numb and so she was able to put her fingertips into the hot pan and flip the crepe without feeling any pain.

As the crepes cooled, my Grandmother would prepare the filling. Some farmer’s cheese, cottage cheese, plenty of sugar and a splash of lemon juice went into a giant bowl. She mixed it with a giant spoon and then, she’d spoon the filling inside the perfect circles, and rolled them tight into the cigar blintz shape. She made so many that she often times filled two giant tins with the blintzes, separating each layer with a piece of silverfoil. They would sit, taunting me, in the refrigerator until Shavuot morning.

And that’s the memory of Shavuot that really makes me a bit weepy. I would usually stay up Shavuot night with my friends, oftentimes studying for finals and taking advantage of the all nighter to get a lot of studying done. After davening (I usually dozed off during Megillat Ruth), I would walk home in the early morning light, exhausted and counting the minutes it took to make it home so that I could crawl into bed. It was usually hot and sticky when Shavuot came out in June, and I couldn’t wait to get into my air conditioned room. The windows and doors were all open in the house as I climbed up the steps, the air conditioner off on the ground floor until lunch time, and there, in the kitchen, sat my Mother and Zaydie. Two full coffee mugs rested on the table between them, and Zaydie was polishing off the first piece of my Mother’s delicious cheesecake. I would wave my hello, ask if my Father and siblings were already home and asleep, and then make my way up to my bed.

The smell of blintzes frying in oil usually woke me before my Mother sent one of my siblings upstairs to rouse me for lunch. Bleary eyed and in desperate need of a few more hours of sleep, I would shake it off as the aroma of sweet cheese frying coaxed me into my clothes and downstairs for lunch. Entering the kitchen, my Mother was hard at work, manning two frying pans full of hot canola oil, with a spatula in hand. She would work in batches, frying my Grandmother’s blintzes in hot oil until the egg was slightly browned and the cheese was steaming. I always added a dollop of sour cream to the blintzes, the tart coolness making it the best bite ever.

Unfortunately, I’ve never seen Farmer’s cheese in Israel and I am hopeless at flipping blintzes. That perfect, pliable circle of egg – the crepe part of the blintz – is another culinary milestone I have yet to achieve. One day, I hope I’ll be able to recreate my Grandmother’s blintzes.

But it’s the atmosphere that I truly yearn to recreate for my own family. It saddens me that DH and our girls will never be in that kitchen, watching my Mother fry up two whole frying pans full of my Grandmother’s blintzes. They’ll never sit at the dining room table, next to my siblings, putting sour cream onto the first bite. They’ll never watch my Grandmother flip crepes using her fingertips, or chase a room full of red balloons blown up by my Zaydie.

These are my fond childhood memories. And, as I work hard creating new family traditions that will become memories for our nuclear family, I will make sure to regale DH and the girls with stories of the Shavuot of my youth. And hopefully, my daughters will retell these stories to their children, so that these memories will live on and on.

Do you find yourself creating new holiday traditions, or do you recreate the ones you experienced as a child? Let me know in the comment section below!

 

Posted in Jewish holidays, Kosher Cooking | Tagged , , , | 7 Comments

The Pepper Pot

Posted on June 5, 2011 by holylandhipstermom

DH’s brother and sister-in-law bought us, as a wedding present, beautiful silver salt and pepper cellars from Hazorfim. They’re horribly tarnished, the glass insert for the salt pot is chipped and I’m pretty sure Baby J. threw out the little matching silver spoon that went with the salt pot. (I let her use it to eat her chicken soup on Friday night, because she begged and I didn’t have the heart to say no). But, we love this set and it’s part of our Shabbat table. I noticed a few weeks ago that Baby J. has been eyeing the pots and, every chance she gets, tries to grab them. Now, I’m all about toddler curiosity and I let her explore her world – within reason – but DH and I are pretty adamant against her spilling the entire contents on our Shabbat table.

And then, this Friday afternoon as we were rushing to get ready for Shabbat, I heard DH yell from the dining room. I was in the bedroom feeding Baby S. and he was just about to go into the shower when we realized that Baby J. was too quiet. That usually meant mischief and sure enough, she was up to her little eyeballs in mischief. DH yelled so loudly that I actually put Baby S. down and ran out to see what happened. And there, looking guilty with a little pout on her face, sat Baby J. in a pool of crushed black pepper. She had managed to get her little fingers into the black pepper pot and upended the contents on the table, the chair, and the dining room floor.

I smiled to myself and sent DH to the shower so I could take care of the clean up and the reprimand. As I pulled out the broom and dustpan, I realized that I could take a different approach to the reprimand. First, I told Baby J. that I knew she was curious about the salt and pepper pots. And then, I took a pinch of pepper from the table and told her to open her mouth. I explained that we put the salt and pepper on our food and so she could eat it. She gladly opened her mouth. I knew she hadn’t swallowed when she immediately said “Od” (Hebrew for more) and so I took another pinch and put it into her mouth.

I heard the crunch sound as her tiny teeth chewed the pepper and then, the wailing began. She stuck out her tongue as tears ran down her face and I held out my hand for her to spit into. Her cries intensified and so I went to the kitchen, took out the lemonaide and filled her sippy cup. She followed me into the kitchen, hysterica, and I handed her the cup and told her to drink. She downed the cup within seconds, handed it back to me and then slunk away into the living room. She gave me a bit of a backwards glance and then sat down on her couch.

I’m pretty sure she learned her lesson, although I hadn’t meant it to be punishment when I asked her to eat the pepper. I realized it might be a bit hot for her, but I wanted to help her explore her world – in a safe way.

But let’s be honest, I know she won’t be upending those salt and pepper cellars anytime soon.

Do you think it was mean of me to have her eat the black pepper? How would you have disciplined her in this situation?

 

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Choking Baby; Terrible Mother

Posted on May 24, 2011 by holylandhipstermom

How to Deal with a Choking Baby

When Baby J. was about eight months old, she choked on a banana. We were spending the morning at the play area of Yankuta and she was hungry, so I took her to one of the tables and peeled a banana. I handed it to her to eat and she took too big a bite. It took an instant for me to realize that she was actually choking on the banana and I scooped her up and ran with her towards the cluster of women hanging around the reception desk. I wasn’t cradling her, but holding her outwards towards these women while yelling “help, help me, she’s choking.” My screams broke these women out of their calm conversation and the receptionist grabbed Baby J and started to bang her on the back. Within seconds, we realized that Baby J. was no longer choking. Somehow, she had managed to swallow it on her own. It’s still not clear to me how it happened, the only thing I can think of is that she managed to cough it up and then chew it and swallow it as I raced the few steps towards the help. From that moment, every time I fed her, I envisioned exactly what needed to be done in case G-d forbid she choked on food. I would set her plate of macaroni and sauce in front of her on the tray of her high chair, sit down across from her, and literally envision quickly removing the tray, unsnapping the belt, lifting her up, putting her onto my forearm, head down, and whacking her on the back. Every. Single. Time. I. Fed. Her.

Now that she’s older, and has all 20 of her teeth, I have relaxed a bit. I’m still anal about how I hand her food, and no matter how much she cries and beg, or how she points out that other kids parents let them eat whole cherry tomatoes and grapes, I shrug and just cut them up into little pieces. She will  be getting cut up cherries, grapes and cherry tomatoes until she’s at least 5, and no amount of pleading and screaming will change my mind.

So you can imagine how I was completely unprepared for my 9 week old to choke. Fortunately, she didn’t choke on a foreign object, but rather on about 2 ml of Acamoli (Israel version of Tylenol).  You see, this morning, Baby S. had an appointment with Tipat Chalav for three innoculations. The nurse warned me that she would most probably get a fever and be in pain all afternoon. So, it’s not surprising, that Baby S. screamed her little head off for almost an hour this afternoon. I decided, after listening to the poor thing cry and know that she wasn’t dirty, wasn’t hungry, and was obviously in pain, that she should get some Acamoli.

I measured out the 3 ml based on her weight (holla, my kid weighed in today at 5.07 kilo!!) and asked my husband’s cousin/baby sitter to cradle her upright in her arms. But, I didn’t wait for Baby S. to finish screaming before I plunged the syringe of medicine into her mouth.

Now, don’t you think if I could have calmed her down first, I would have? She was hysterical, and I honestly thought I just needed to get the medicine into her and she would calm down. But, she inhaled deeply into the scream as the medicine was going down her throat, and the next thing I knew she was choking.

I will never, ever, get the sound she made out of my head. It was like she was drowning. She was spluttering, coughing, screaming when she could get some air, and then she was drowning again. I had no idea what to do! I didn’t think to put her into the same position as someone choking on a foreign object since there was no object! Our babysitter looked on in horror, as Baby S. continued to struggle for breath.

Not knowing what to do, I walked her into the bedroom and sat down on the bed, trying desperately to just calm her down. I hoped that if she would just relax, that maybe she would be able to cough up the medicine and clear her little lungs. She continued to struggle until finally, she let out this loud noise that sounded like a cross between a giant burp, a gag and vomiting. The skin by my neck was now really sticky, and she was crying in earnest. I breathed a little bit and held her in my arms. She is also congested, and was struggling to breath even before the medicine, and so I put some saline drops into her nose. I don’t think that was such a smart idea, but in the end it did help clear her nasal passages.

Finally, after listening to some clear, hearty crying, I breastfed her until she calmed down. She closed her eyes, her cheeks wet with tears and spit up, and whined in pain as I rocked her a bit in my arms. I handed her to our babysitter and went to call my Mom, to see if I had done irreversible damage. Baby S. was also now making weird gulping sounds as she breathed, so I needed to make sure she was okay. Mom told me to call our Dr., just to make sure Baby S. didn’t need to be seen. I got the Dr. on call at the Medical Center – who happened to be OUR Dr. – and explained what happened.

After I described the events, and then held the phone up to her nose so the Dr. could hear her breathing, I asked if “I had done something to hurt her.” To our Dr.’s credit, she told me that I hadn’t. But still, I feel like I did. I hurt her.

What was I thinking? Of COURSE you don’t shoot liquid down the throat of a crying infant! Of COURSE they’ll inhale it if they’re crying!

But what else could I do? She was screaming in pain for over an hour, without stopping! How was I going to get the medicine in if she wouldn’t stop screaming?

So now, I’m on baby watch. I have to monitor her for the next couple of hours and, if her breathing worsens, will have to bring her in to be checked out. I’m praying she’ll be okay, that whatever Acamoli actually got into her system will take away the pain from all three vaccinations, and that her little lungs will clear.

Meanwhile, I think it’s time to take a refresher course on how to deal with a choking baby/toddler. You can never be too prepared.

Have you ever dealt with a choking baby? What did you do?

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