Veterans' Day: Every time we say, "Good bye," you're frozen in my mind as the child that you never will be again.

First and foremost, I present my previous ramblings about Veterans' Day.

I've always taken issue with the use of the phrase, "Happy Veterans' Day." There is no such thing!

I don't often let myself think about how being a veteran has changed my husband. On this day, though, there is no hiding from it. Last night was one of the rare nights when I let myself break down and cry about how becoming a veteran has changed him. He, however, didn't notice I was upset. He doesn't anymore. If he did, he didn't say anything about it. He doesn't do that either anymore.

The changes in him caused by PTSD as a result of his deployments go by largely unnoticed. Every once in a while, though, I'm painfully aware of how very different he is. Last night was one of those nights.

When he deployed, I stood there in tears clutching small children watching as my husband filed onto a bus and pulled away for the airport on two different occasions. The first time, I fell to the ground screaming crying while I clutched two toddlers--each arm around one. A mother I had never met came up to me, said nothing, but hugged me tightly. I cried as my husband was taken away. I had no idea that I would never see that same man again. I worried that he would never come back alive. I had no idea he could return, but so very very changed.

I stood at the airport, not once, but twice and ran to him when he came home, but the arms that held me tentatively belonged to a man completely altered by war. Even after therapy and drugs, he's not the man I married. I can never express how grateful I am that he survived those deployments. I worry that some will think I'm being whiny and ungrateful. I am so very thankful that he is alive. I have Sheheyanu-ed many many times. Still, I mourn for the man he was.

I love this man. Despite the hell we went through, I love this man. I have a new respect for this man who came home and was willing to work through these problems not once, but twice. But you know what? I loved the man he was too. I liked that man far more.

I miss the man who would rub my back in bed. I miss the man who would randomly reach out and hold me. I miss the man who was more aware of the world around him. I miss the man whose main interaction with his children was talking to them or playing with them rather than screaming at them. I miss the man who had enough patience to deal playfully with his children.

When TheBaby was born earlier this year, I saw glimpses of just how sweet and gentle my husband once was. He cooed at her. He held her and refused to put her down saying, "The others had to be without me for so long. She doesn't have to, so I don't want to make her."

With the others, he has very little patience. Yes, he's a good father and he loves them dearly, but he can't deal with them the way he used to. The "War,"stomped all over anything remotely resembling patience that he once had. It takes very little to annoy him. I find myself pleading with the kids, "Please don't even ask Daddy. You know how he gets."

Our poor son has it the worst of all. Dh was gone for TheBoy's first year and you can absolutely see the detachment. They butt heads a lot and dh often has no idea how to parent him. TheBoy is a good kid. He's smart and sweet and very stubborn. Dh adored him as a baby, but by missing so much of our son's first year, it created a rift.

After the first war-time deployment, when dh came home to our twins, they were initially a bit timid, but in only a matter of moments, they excitedly, "Daddy! Daddy-ed," at him. With our son, I placed him in dh's arms and while TheBoy didn't fuss, he obviously didn't know who that man was. TheBoy was the only one of our children for whom "Dada," wasn't one of the first words (it was both the twins' first word). When he did start saying it, it meant, "Telephone," because that's all he knew of his daddy.

I feel badly complaining because my husband is still a great man. He parents. He helps at home. He supports me in our decisions. He's generally a nice guy. But you know what? The man I married was even better. The man I married was gentle. This man is gruff. The man I married was sweet. This man ignores. The man I married wanted to be a more attached and loving parent than his parents were. This man calls his children, "pain in the ass" behind their backs and is more likely to yell AT them rather than talk WITH them.

This man is a veteran. The man I married is gone. I hate Veterans' Day because today, of all days, I'm thankful for my husband's sacrifice, but I'm painfully aware that I traded the wonderful man who was my husband for this man who is so very changed--this veteran.

The title is from this song.

Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold.

High school football

Originally uploaded by kbooth

Old friends have come barreling into my life lately at full-speed. Have you ever witnessed a high school football team run on to the field charing through paper barriers? Yeah, it's kind of like that.

I absolutely adore social media for this opportunity. I've been able to find people I considered best friends when I was younger. I've been able to find friends from dance class that I knew from the time I was a toddler. I've been able to reconnect with old neighbors who moved away. In some cases, I've been able to make friends of those I only considered acquaintances many years ago.

Just recently, an old friend rode the train of social media right back into my life. I've been searching for her for years with no luck. I always wondered what had become of her. I've wondered and worried. Many of us did. When she went off to college, she simply vanished. We never heard from her again. Now, many years later, I have found her and I'm thrilled. She's doing well, she looks very much like she used to and she has a little boy who shares the same distinctive eyes with his mama.

True, some people you find again only to discover that you've grown apart, but even then, just knowing that they're okay and getting a glimpse into their lives is so exciting and something we never dreamed of years ago. And then, there are those you rediscover and find you can pick up right where you left off.

"When somebody knows you, well, there's no comfort like that."

It's the Shehecheyanu-a-palooza at chez Reiza

TheBaby is our last baby. Her birth was so amazing that I would gladly do that again another 10 times, but we've agreed that four children is the perfect number for us. We had a difficult time getting pregnant every time and after my second pregnancy, we didn't even know if we'd be able to have another baby. The fact that we did and we carried TheBaby to term is a miracle. Yes, we found out after-the-fact that we lost two others during that pregnancy, but our daughter survived and she is wonderful. She has completed our family.

Yesterday, as I sat with her at my breast, I looked at her gorgeous chubby cheeks that puffed up and down while she nursed, her sweet long lashes on her delicate eyelids that were closed as she nursed to sleep, her chubby arms clutching my shirt and I felt the weight of her ever-growing strong and squishy body. I whispered the Shehecheyanu while she nursed.

I cannot be more thankful to G-d for allowing us to reach this season--this wonderful season that finds our home filled with happiness and healthiness.

The Whines of a Former Military Wife

I'm going to whine. Consider yourself warned.

(big sigh)
I miss my husband. Yes, he's here. I feel guilty making that statement when he isn't deployed. Hell, he's not even active anymore. Still, after working through PTSD (times two), he's not the man I married. We got through the worst of it, but it has changed him.

Lately, I've been painfully aware that there are small fleeting moments where the man I married would have hugged me, reached for my hand, or put an arm around me. The man he's become does none of these. He still loves me. He's still one of the rare good men out there. PTSD just stripped him of the more affectionate side.

I know I'm very blessed to have such a wonderful husband. He's smart. He's kind. He has moral standards. He doesn't see me as a cook/housekeeper. He's willing to work together with me.

It's just that, I miss him. I miss who he was. I love this new guy, but it's just not the same. In those brief moments where I still expect him to reach out, he doesn't and I'm painfully aware of what's missing.

Parenting and helplessness

We feel helpless at times when we have children. It's just part of the packaged deal. We do what we can, but there are things that are out of our hands. I expected that when I had children.

What I did not expect, however, was to feel so helpless in regards to my PARENTS. They are the adults. They are the ones who look out for me. Now, suddenly, it's the other way around and that's terrifying.

My parents are elderly and they are far away. My mother, however worked full-time until she lost her job fairly recently. My father still works full-time. They have never been the frail types that come to mind when one pictures an older couple.

So it was a particular shock when my mother had surgery recently and she found herself in a number of very dangerous situations--all of which could have been avoided if someone was there to help. If I could have been with her, there was so much I could have done for her. They live much too far away, though, so that wasn't an option.

My mother is making ridiculous decisions which are costing them a lot of money. No, she doesn't suffer from dementia of any sort. So I didn't expect it and don't understand it. She's wasting money due to stupid decisions. Yes, among other things, my mother fell prey to that stupid Acai berry scam. I thought everyone knew to avoid it. My mother, however, did not, and was charged several hundred dollars. She recently got it in her head that she MUST do something RIGHT NOW in a manner which would obviously waste money. I tried giving her suggestions for another way to go about it and she agreed I was right, but refused to change her plans. What I thought would waste a few hundred dollars wound up actually costing her THREE THOUSAND. She does NOT have the money to pull this.

I should pause here to offer my gratitude to decent people. She tried to hire someone to do something (that doesn't need to be done and will cost about $10,000). One person gave her a ridiculous bid. The next, though, came out and actually told her that doing what she wanted would be a waste of money. That meant that this man did NOT get an easy job where he could have bilked her for quite a bit of money. Instead, he was honest and put her welfare before his own income. She actually listened to him and canceled those costly plans. Thank you, kind sir. You will never know how much we appreciate what you've done.

Most people, however, are not like that. And so, here I sit, far away, wringing my hands and yelling into the phone when trying to talk sense into my mother doesn't work.

Nice people ROCK!

Dh's little cousin (who is all grown up now, but was about 10 years old when I first met her) is going through a rough time. I've been pretty open with you all about the difficulties we've had this year. Well, dh's cousin is facing her own troubles and on top of that, she's pregnant and expecting a little boy in October.

I've tried asking for help for her a few times and Twitter and while I got lots of RT's (retweets), I didn't get any offers to help, until recently.

Grudgemom has put together a nation-wide baby shower for dh's cousin. You can read more about what she's going through at that link.

If you can help in any way, please do. If you can afford to, please buy something from the registry. For all my beloved Etsy sellers, if you make children's items and would like to send one their way, please do. If you're not on Etsy, but you make children's clothes/items, we would greatly appreciate your help. If you would like to donate hand-me-down clothing, please do (just remember they're in Florida, so they don't have much need for snow suits). If you'd like to do something other than the registry, please contact me (comment here or send an e-mail) and I'll help you out. I'm sending her some books, a box of nursing pads, the few newborn diapers we have (we never had many), and some boys' clothing, but unfortunately, TheBoy's newborn clothing is almost all for cold weather. Our financial situation is improving, but there's not too much we can spend, so I'm trying to pass along what I can.

A huge THANK YOU to Grudgemom and RG Natural Babies. And a big thank you to everyone who can help in any way.

Great Customer Service Makes Me Weak In the Knees.

You remember my evil dryer of doom and its path of destruction?

Hopefully, you also remember the joy and wonder that is Lands End. Upon reading about the disaster on twitter and checking out my blog and our family situation, someone from Lands End contacted me and offered to replace that bathing suit with any size and style of my choice. I opted for the Girls' Scrunchback Tankini in the Light Turquoise Butterfly print. It was the closest I could find to the suit that was destroyed and we did so love that suit.

This new one is no exception. It's wonderful. It's the same quick-drying fabric that we loved last year. I was able to get a size bigger so now it will fit next year too. Once again, the fit is amazing. It provides great coverage, but is still a two-piece. I really prefer two pieces for ease of use, but most of them are teeny tiny bikinis and we don't do that. This keeps the child covered, but is very cute and functional. The print is very cute and very vibrant. The kids love it. Girl2 has worn it in the sprinkler every time.

I've always heard good things about Lands End, but they're so expensive. Their sales make them a bit more reasonable, but that's often still beyond what we like to spend. If this is their usual customer service, though (which I hear it is), I'll skimp somewhere else in order to afford to shop there more often.

Just days before this, I had a gift certificate that I used when they offered free shipping and a sale on t-shirts (remember, my "fluffy" postpartum body doesn't fit into most of my pre-pregnancy t-shirts). I bought a few. I found the whites to be a bit too sheer for me, but I loved the the others. Returning the white ones was easy. I just brought them back to Sears so I could save on shipping costs. I got a gift certificate for the amount 3 days later in the mail. I only wish I could have afforded more. They're so comfy and very pretty. I loved that they have the different fits so that I didn't have to guess how it would fit. Their fits (1-3) seemed to be very accurate (I stuck with 2 and 3 for my chubby self).

Lands End knows how it's done. One bathing suit probably wasn't a huge expense, but with that suit & that amazing customer service, they secured my undying love. Not only am I going to buy from them, I'm going to shout it from the roof tops. :-) Yeah, sometimes life hands you lemons and other times it shoots them at you with a grenade launcher, and when that happens, I blog about it, I tweet and I complain my little head off on the phone with friends. But I think it's only fair, that when something wonderful happens (especially when a company goes above and beyond what's necessary for their customers), then I need to be even louder. :-)

Lands End, you rock and for that, I thank you more than you'll ever know.

The wee one took pity on me and decided enough was enough. No more torture for the mama. Instead, WE HAVE A BABY.

She (yes SHE) was born last week. It's a girl--a gorgeous chubby little girl with wisps of hair and bright blue eyes.

She was born at home. No cutting me open this time. My body did it on its own. I pushed her out myself (with the midwife's help) and then reached down and grabbed her to pull her up to my chest. That was something I desperately wanted--to have my baby on my chest. Every other time, my babies were whisked away from me either in a rush to the NICU or just to another room so I could be put back together. I have never even held my children in their first hours. In that time, I was always lying flat on a table while doctors sewed or stapled me back together. This time, I wanted to know what it was like to have the baby immediately come from inside me and rest on my chest from the outside. I got just that and it was amazing.

Dh cut the cord. That's something he has never done before and something I always hoped he would. This time, he did.

There were many recitations of the Shehecheyanu. I said it over and over again. I can't tell you how many times I said, "Oh thank G-d." As has been the case with all my children, the first words I spoke to my daughter were the first few verses of the Sh'ma.

When it was over, dh and I went to bed--OUR bed together, the same bed where our youngest was born. I was on my side, he on his, the baby sleeping between us and we held hands and stared at her completely fixated and in love (with her, with each other, with life).

Our baby is here. She is healthy. She had the best possible entrance into the world. She helped fullfill so many dreams and hopes.

In all my life, I have never felt so powerful. I have never felt so in awe. I have never felt so thankful. I have never felt so close to G-d.

Babies & Gratitude

Today, dh and I ran into the big kids' Sunday school teacher from pre-school. She hadn't seen them in years and they all stopped to chat. I marveled at how long it had been since she saw them last. Dh then asked if she had ever seen TheBoy. I realized she had because I remember sitting in their class seder with TheBoy in the sling when dh was deployed.

Pardon me while I sigh. I miss slinging babes. I'm so glad there's another one on the way. Yes, the fact that this one is not part of a matched set is particularly exciting. I love my girls, but I often insist babies are not meant to come in pairs. Part of me did secretly hope for one last set, but that would give us five children. Four is a nice even number with which I can deal. Five is kind of frightening to me. I have friends with 5 and 6 kids who love it and do amazingly well. I'm not one of them.

In my usual fashion, I'm off track. Forgive me. I'm just very thrilled with the prospect of a new little baby. We didn't know if we would ever be blessed with another child. We didn't know if it was physically possible. So I'm particularly thrilled with visions of another baby in the sling.

I salute those companies that give.

This whole giveaway thing made me think about those companies that make donations of any sort. Many do it because it makes them look good and gets them some publicity (which is very cheap compared to the current advertising rates). There are some who do it simply because it's the right thing. To those, I want to say a hearty, "Thank you."

In and outside the corporate world, I've been involved with a number of fundraisers where I sought donations from various companies large and small. Some ignore you. Some give something slight. Others bend over backwards to help. Typically, those are the smaller companies. Those are the companies I remember. Those are the companies I frequent.

Today, on the news, I saw a story of an man who spent a year in Iraq with the Army National Guard. His employer not only promised him his job upon his return (which is required, but some companies find ways around this), but continued to send his full pay to his family even in his absence. This was a small local company, not a huge corporation rolling in income. The owner didn't have to do that, but he did because he said he felt it was the right thing to do.

So to all of you out there who do the right thing, thank you.

And the award for "Most Wonderful Husband on the Whole Freaking Planet" goes to...

my husband.

G-d bless that man!

When it was time to pick the kids up at Hebrew school, I was in the middle of an in depth phone conversation with a friend. Did my husband interrupt to tell me it was time to get the kids (I usually pick them up)? No. Did he roll his eyes, sigh and play the martyr? No. What did my wonderful husband do? He went to get them without a word so that I could finish my conversation.

The following day, when it was time to get them from dance class, I was once again on the phone deep in conversation with the same friend (I swear it's not a conspiracy). I had picked out a recipe I wanted to make for dinner, but didn't get to start. Dh found the magazine, figured out which recipe I was planning on, and started making dinner. When it was just about time to go get them, he mentioned it while he cooked. I got off the phone and asked him if he'd rather I went to get them or took over the cooking. He went with option A which was actually the easier of the two for me.

Remember, when it comes to Judaism, I'm the more traditional of the two of us. While we've been active at our current shul for a few years, dh hasn't gone to high holiday services there (the military had a way of always either deploying him during the high holidays or refusing to give him time off). This was his first year attending Rosh Hashanah services there and this shul expects men to wear tallit (women have the option as well). Dh has not worn tallit since his bar mitzvah. When I mentioned he'd need to wear them, he hopped online and found (and memorized) the blessing for doing so. Upon arriving at services, he couldn't quite figure it out. So when we dropped the kids off before services, he actually ASKED SOMEONE how to do it. Yes, a man was willing to ask for help. Aren't you shocked? And it was neat too. He asked an acquaintance of ours explaining, "It's been a very long time since I last did this." The guy said, "We're glad you decided to wear one today," and he went on to tell dh that he was, "Honored to be asked for help."

I, too, felt honored to be standing there next to him donned in tallit. We've been together over a decade and I've never seen him wearing tallit in person (I have seen the bar mitzvah photos). Aside from feeling privileged that he was willing to do it, I was in awe by the fact that he cared enough to do it for me even when I know it was awkward for him.

For these and so many more reasons, my husband definitely deserves an award of some sort. Oh and he also deserves my undying love and affection, but he already had that.

8 things to be thankful for

1. Friends

2. Good food

3. comfy beds

4. naps (theirs and mine)

5. coffee

6. paint

7. crafts

8. E-mail

How 'bout you? Anyone else care to play?

Two little words that can change your life.

Did you say, "Thank you," today?

I try to say it, but I realize I don't say it nearly enough. The next time someone thanks you, stop and think about what it really means. Don't think of it as a trite phrase, realize that it means someone has recognized you and they appreciate what you have done. When you realize that, maybe you'll use it more. Make sure you thank those around you. You never know what it might do for them. I can't find it now, but recently, I came across a postcard at Post Secret where someone admitted to wanting to kill him/herself, but nice strangers kept him/her from doing it. Someone else wrote in to say he/she was in the same situation.

To my husband who agreed to run around with us today even though he's sick, Thank you.

to the man who works the window at Starbucks even though he's deaf (he handles the face-to-face stuff at the window). Thank you for giving me the opportunity to show my children what people with disabilities CAN do. I hear so often, "He/she can't do that because he/she is disabled." It's wonderful to have a real-life example where I have the opportunity to show the kids that people have far more abilities than disabilities. Oh and thanks for signing with me (without laughing at my feeble attempt) even though I know my ASL skills are lacking.



Thank you to my big kids for all their help. Sometimes, I want to sell you on e-bay, but more often than not, I'm floored at how much you love each other and what you're willing to do to help out with your little brother.

THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU to my friends who were not only there for me when I needed it, but who even provided tchochkis great conversation and wine.

THANK YOU to 2 of the aforementioned friends who not only stepped up, but jumped at the chance to help when I had to go out of state for a funeral and dh couldn't get off work. We were frantic and had no clue what we were going to do, but two of my friends (including one who really didn't know me that well) watched the girls all day for 2 days. I will be forever in their debt. We have yet to come up with a proper way to thank them. If anyone has ideas, please let me know.

To that cashier at the store who let my daughters use the "Private. Employees Only" bathroom, thank you so very much.

To that teenage girl who raced after me in the mall in order to give me back my son's brand new and oh so adorable sweat shirt that had fallen, thank you. I hope I got across how much I appreciated it, but I'm afraid I didn't.

Thank you to a specific teacher friend who jumped at the chance to help me out with a reading question even though the two siblings I have who are teachers never responded.

Thank you to my niece who is absolutely wonderful and who is NOT insane. That's always a plus in our family even if it is rare.

To those who provide fodder for my funny bone as well as my deeper thoughts through their blogs, thank you. I'm constantly checking my Google Reader to see who has updated today. I admit that there are a specific few who always make my heart skip a beat when I see they've updated. Most of these people, I have never met, yet I eagerly follow along with their lives and their thoughts. Thank you for taking time from your day to blog. Whether your blog entry consists of a humorous account of those around you or an in-depth discussion of all things spiritual, I really do appreciate it. Sometimes, something you write inspires me to think differently or do something I never considered before. The fact that someone across the country or across the world can write something and create a change in me is astounding. Thank you.

To whomever created Frappaccinos, thank you.

To my sister and another friend who went above and beyond and took me to the amazing chocolate shoppe I've been wanting to try and then wouldn't let me pay for my order, thank you.

To my son who potty trained earlier than everyone insisted was possible, THANK YOU. Let me repeat that, THANK YOU.

Thank you so much to a friend's mother who, nearly a decade later, still raves about my wedding even when our own families hated it because it was so "different." And thank you to that friend for relaying that conversation.

Thank you to Kamrin for oh so much. From introducing me to the concept of simplifying, to always being there for others even when struggling through so much yourself, thank you.

I don't always appreciate the way my mother parented and I'm making different decisions for our family, but she was a strong female role model who helped shape my Feminist thinking. Thank you.

Thanks to my dad for being friends with everyone. Sure, sometimes it's embarassing when he insists on trying to speak what little bit of another language he knows (and loudly--oh so very loudly), but I think his openness and lack of fear towards others was a wonderful example for us to see growing up.

Thank you to the local radio station for offering free tickets to a kids' show and thank you to my husband for humoring me and calling on his cell phone even though I was already calling at the same time (I didn't win the tickets. He did).

I could do this forever, but instead, I'll end with a challenge. Make sure you thank at least one person every day--be truly thankful, don't just use the phrase in passing. Make a point of noticing when someone says, "Thank you," to you as well. Don't just brush it off. Realize that they're telling you how much they appreciate you.

“Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart”-Kahlil Gibran

I've always thought my kids were cute. I'm their mom. I'm supposed to. It's natural.

Every once in a while, though, I'm struck by how stunningly beautiful they are.

There were times when I nursed TheBoy that I stared into his gorgeous eyes and just got lost. There I was nourishing his body, his soul and those wonderful trusting eyes stared up at me with such innocence and such love.

I had similar moments with my girls. Babies are at their most beautiful when they're at the breast. You see those sweet chubby cheeks bouncing and those big gorgeous eyes staring up at you brimming with contentment and love. With my twins, though, their first interactions with each other were at the breast. For the longest time, they didn't seem to realize they were separate beings. They never showed a conscious awareness of the other one. Then, one day, while I nursed them both on either side, one reached over and grabbed the other one's hand. Their gazes shifted from me to each other. While they continued to nurse, they flailed their little arms reaching out for the other.

Over the past few days, I've been overwhelmed by my children's beauty.

I recently got some pictures of them that I just adore. I looked at the photographs and was shocked by how gorgeous they are. I always thought they were cute, but I've gotten lost in those pictures and I've been left wondering, "When did you grow into such beautiful beings?"

Today, we went to story time and I was struck by it once again. The big kids made such a point of helping their little brother without ever being asked. They treated him so gently and so motherly. I have two sisters who have spent their entirely lives trying to physically injure each other, so I'm particularly thankful for and in awe of the connections I see between my children.

Earlier this morning, TheBoy took something that belongs to Girl1. I held my breath and waited for the eruption, but rather than scream at him, she spoke very sweetly to him and she let him have it without a fight.

I've made a point of pulling the big kids aside today to tell them how proud I am of them. And I am. They're absolutely gorgeous, both inside and out. I'm so very grateful for and so much in awe of them.

Frustration aka: What does writing on your butt have to do with the Macabees?

Why do I bother? Please explain my family to me. No, really, PLEASE explain them. I'm begging you.

If you read my blog at all, you know we're rebelling this year against excess, against contaminated toys and against a mutiny conducted entirely by crappy plastic toys. I'm making most of the kids' gifts. Some of my children have oral issues (which is a nice way to say that the kid chews on EVERYTHING). So this plethora of lead paint recalls has me more than a tad bit frightened.

When the family asked me for a wish list for the children, I spent days talking to them and doing research. I then spent hours putting together a list for the family. I went so far as to package it all together in one neat little wish list which actually removes the items as they are purchased (a lovely feature if you don't want to repeat the fiasco that occurs when one receives doubles of three different toys). I e-mailed the family three times--initially with a self-compiled wish list and then with the new fancy version. In every e-mail, I explained two things:

• #1. Please do not feel obligated to buy our children anything. Money does not equal love (note to my mother). We don't expect gifts from anyone. We only sent the wish list as a courtesy for those who requested suggestions.
• #2. Due to the current recalls (Damn you, Mr. Kelly, my sophomore English teacher. I used the phrase, "Due to" to initiate a sentence and there's nothing you can do about it), we are very concerned about toys available in most retail stores. Please, if you buy something for the kids, please refrain from buying plastic toys.

I created the list specifically because my MIL asked me to (although other people had the same request later). I made the simple request that people not buy plastic toys. On the wish list, I included options that varied both in price and in function.

What did we get from my MIL today? A box chock full o'gifts. Said box contained nothing at all from the wish list. It did, however, contain lots of plastic toys.

I don't know if you'd consider me a good mom or an evil one, but I hid myself away from the kids, unwrapped all the gifts, and took away some of them. Some are going to be exchanged. Some are being donated.

And just FTR, I do NOT allow my children to wear clothing with anything written across the rear. This includes the otherwise absolutely adorable pants my MIL included with the shipment. I am far too skeeved by the idea of someone not only looking at my daughters' behinds, but doing so with the intensity required to read it. In addition, as I have mentioned previously, we're traditional Jews and while we personally don't subscribe to the long skirts/long sleeves fashion, we do prefer modesty. Dressing them in something which encourages staring at a child's behind is far from modest, IMHO.

GAH! I'm frustrated. Although, then I feel badly about that. I'm not ungrateful. I truly do appreciate the fact that they sent anything at all. They're family and I love them. I don't, however, love having to hide away the plastic crap that will most likely kill them in their sleep.

Oh and on a related note, does anyone out there think white corduroy pants are appropriate for younger children? Modesty has nothing to do with this. Laundry, however, does. Dh and my reactions when we saw them was, "Oh hell no. Those won't last a day before they're stained beyond repair."

I am thankful for...

junk.

I went on a bit of a cleaning tear earlier today. I emptied cleared off the top of my grandmother's hope chest and replaced the stupid stuff inside with sentimental things that have been cluttering this place. In the process, I found all sorts of stuff that I haven't used in their current state, but I can use now for holiday scrapping.

WTG me!

FTR, last night, I made three felt sugar cookies (completely by hand) topped with super cute faces and sprinkles. I think I also figured out a way to make the cupcake I made the other night (which appears to have special needs) look a little more cupcake-like and a little less like a special ed phallic symbol. We shall see, though. I'll post the end results after the kids go to bed.

There's a huge long list of things I'm thankful for, but that's on the top of my list right now.

How about you? Regardless of whether or not you're in/from the States, feel free to share with the class. We want to know what you're thankful for. I think I'll post a big long complete list this evening.

For those who celebrate, I hope your Thanksgiving finds you content. For those who don't celebrate, happy Thursday, although, depending on which part of the world in which you reside, it may already be Friday. So in that case, Happy Friday.

I Yid it myself.

Fabulous fabulous FABULOUS post over at Jewschool.

I absolutely LOVE the point made. I never really thought of it that way. I lament having to wait for packages of Kosher for Passover matzah shipped from my parents each year. I complain because the military has left us in a place where not only are our fellow Jews few and far between, but some of the goyim is particularly goyish. Dh has always taken issue with the fact that he never had off from school for Rosh Hashanah (I always did when I was in public school). I thought I wanted to send our children to a day school. I didn't. We homeschool. And yes, Judaism is a big part of our school day, but I get the chance to really explain it to them--to their hearts and souls and to answer their questions as per my understanding.

I do tend to march to the beat of my own drum, but I never really thought about how being outside the larger Jewish community really allows that to shine.

So, many thanks are extended for helping me to open my eyes and see things in a new way.

FTR: Yid means Jew and a goy (plural: goyim) is a non-Jew.

That husband of mine is a good catch.

So, yeah, we have issues, but today, my husband scarfed down dinner quickly so that he could take the car--MY car to get the tire replaced. This is the same tire that I popped (don't ask because I'm not quite sure). This is AFTER he worked a full hectic day. This is AFTER I offered to go myself and he said, "No, you shouldn't have to sit there and wait with all the kids. I'll do it when I get home." This is AFTER he took the car somewhere else yesterday--a holiday, only to find they didn't have the tire we needed. This is AFTER he called around to find out who had it in stock.

When he came home, he came bearing alcohol for me. After the kids were in bed, out of nowhere, he came over and hugged me. He has not been the huggy type since before his last bout of PTSD.

He's trying. He's really trying.

Add that to the list of reasons I love my husband.

Another benefit of breastfeeding: Breastmilk contains sanity

I've been feeling kind of numb. I haven't left the house. Haven't been to the gym in over a week (remember, I was there every day, 6 days a week and I usually go nuts if I have to miss even one day). I haven't felt much like dealing with the kids. I haven't done any school work with them (although, in an attempt to shut the bigger ones up, I gave them some work sheets to do by themselves yesterday).

So, today, I am especially grateful to be a breastfeeding mom.

When I got The Boy this morning, he immediately signed, "Milk please." I sighed because I really didn't want to. Reluctantly, I sat down on the couch, turned on the t.v. and nursed the baby. I was initially ignoring him and just flipping through news channels (I don't like Larry King in the evening hours. Why the hell does Headline News think I want to see him and his outdated guests in the morning? Dude, your channel is called "Headline NEWS." News is right there in the title. Quit showing all these idiotic commentators and their ridiculous shows and just give me my freaking news).

Then, I happened to get a whiff of the top of the baby's head. Luckily, he had a bath last night, so instead of that day-old spaghetti smell, it was that sweet baby scent. I closed my eyes and breathed him in. I noticed it calmed me down and made me feel better.

I turned off the t.v. and continued to sit there and sniff my son. For some reason, he wanted to nurse for a while and he asked to switch sides a few times. Normally, I would have been annoyed, but today, I didn't mind at all.

While nursing him, I noticed his sisters were playing pretend with their stuffed animals. So I started asking questions and talking to them about their pretend ice cream party with the 4-year-old panda bear and the 19-year-old giraffe who is training to be an astronaut.

When The Boy was done, he got down off the couch, flashed me a big grin and walked away.

A little while later, I said the Sheheheyanu quietly to myself so as to thank G-d for giving me the gift of breastfeeding and for allowing me to recognize the quiet beauty and serenity in the moment, in the act, in the children, and in myself.

G-d bless Kristin Henderson

She's the inspiration behind the title of this place, she's a military spouse, she's a fabulous writer and she has a wealth of resources for veterans and their families.

If any of my readers are military family members who need help, if you know someone who does or if you want to find a way to help, please go here: Take Action, Find Resources. Also, in the back of her book, While They're At War, you will find a comprehensive list of resources. By the time you get there, you will have read a fabulous book too.