Family of Five

Sometimes I can't believe I have three children. It really is unbelievable how quickly it all happens.

Shai Adi

My little boy.

Halloween

We didn't really plan on Halloween this year. Being due on the 28th we thought for sure we would either be in the hospital or would have just returned with our newest bundle of joy.

Luckily we were able to pull it together pretty quickly. My old neighbor and dear friend Dani brought her daughter and a couple of her Bulgarian girlfriends and their daughters over. Orli was a butterfly and Ilana was a poodle. The girls had a lot of fun and practically went to bed in their beloved costumes.

Ready to start anew...

I was in a pretty down place when I put the blog on hold. Unfortunately I can't say that things have gotten any easier. In fact, our nights with the girls took a horrible downward turn since September 5th and we haven't really had a decent night of sleep since then.

However, together Darin and I put together a plan, have decided to stick with it, and are seeing some progress. Overall, though we are more sleep deprived, we are happier people.

We also bought a minivan. I went on maternity leave and paid some bills, made dinner, did laundry and bought a dresser from IKEA. Tomorrow I'll drop off dry cleaning and return overdue library materials.

My due date for Baby C was yesterday. I'm convinced that he/she wants us to get our shit together before making his/her grand entrance.

I am putting this blog to bed for now.

I haven't really been able to tell the stories that I set out to tell so its not really serving its purpose for now.

Hopefully we'll be back soon.

The day that everything fell apart part II

me: (hobbling down the hallway with an incredible amount of lower pain and discomfort, trying to figure out how I will make it to the other end of the parking lot to my car)

woman at work: (in a baby voice) now THAT's a pregnant lady walk if I've ever seen one!

me:(evil stare)

woman at work: WHAAAT? It's cuuute!

me: no, its not

w.a.w: yes it is! you're CUUUTE

By the way, Orli cried for 8 hours at the J today. For the record, I refuse to document any more successes on this blog as they will inevitably fall apart as a result.

Darin had his fantasy football draft tonight. After a full day of work, then taking her friend's elderly, disabled husband to the doctor, my mom came over to help me put bathe the girls and put them to bed. Then she folded laundry and did all our dishes. Then she said something that bugged me and I snapped at her. I meanly snapped at the only person that is always there for me no matter what when I need help. Then she left and I cried.

Thank god the day is almost over.

Big Girls

We found the camera! These are from this morning - preparing for day 3 of school. (Orli didn't want to wear her backpack - she preferred her purse today).

First Day of School

We've lost our camera in the abyss that is our home. So sadly I wasn't able to take a picture of our first day of school.

The girls started 3 days a week at the JCC by our house. The last time I tried to send them was last year, it was a different J, and it was a nightmare. After 3 disastrous weeks, I pulled them out and begged my neighbor to watch them.

This time has been different. We bought DORA backpacks that the girls carry in every day. They still cry when I leave but they calm down pretty quickly (I duck in the hallway until I hear that they have stopped.) They are also eating and sleeping and playing - which they didn't do last year.

Yesterday was their second day and when I came to pick them up Ilana said, "Look mommy, this is Eden" and she pointed to a girl in the class. Then Orli said "Mommy! Potty now!"

I'm really proud of my big girls.

more stupid shit people say part II (verbatim)

Teacher/Co-worker: Look at YOU!
Me: (silent)
Teacher/Co-worker: You're like...ready to go!
Me: (silent)
Teacher/Co-worker: And you're sure its not twins, huh?
Me: (fake half smile)
Teacher/Co-worker: You're like me. I gained over 50 pounds each time with mine. I was just huge.
Me: (silent)

Twins Again?

It's pretty accurate to say that I am not quite feeling attractive these days as every part of me continues to swell, by what seems like,the hour.

I'm over it, in the sense of not taking it personally and feeling bad about myself. Actually, I think I am just too tired all the time to really give it too much thought.

However, in the last week --and I'm really not exaggerating at all (I know I can say that, but really this is accurate) -- 3-5 times a DAY people approach me with some variation of the following:

"Twins again?"

"NO?? NOT twins again? REEAALLY?"

"Due any day now?"

"OCTOBER?? It looks to me like you could go any day now."

Like I said, I don't really think I take it personally. I guess I'm just shocked at what people feel free to blurt out.

This week is back-to-school teacher orientation and that may account for some of the upsurge in stupid comments, but truthfully, many of them have also come from total strangers at places like the mall (yesterday, 2) or the JCC (today, 3).

Really no place is sacred for a large pregnant lady to catch her breath in peace.

Pee Pee or Poopie

Orli: (while peeing on the potty) Poopie!
Ilana: (on the other potty) No Orli, Pee Pee
Orli: Poopie!
Ilana: No Orli, Pee Pee
Orli: Poopie!
Ilana: Orli! Say Pee Pee!
Orli: Pee Pee
Ilana: (while clapping) YAY ORLI!!!
Orli: (claps)

Natural Remedies

Today we went to my parent's house for dinner. It was such a nice night that my mom suggested we all eat outside. Unfortunately the bees found us. I remembered that we had bug spray in the diaper bag. Both Darin and my mom were horrified at the thought of bug spray near food. That's when my mom brought out an almost full bottle of Scope mouthwash.

Overall, my family always prefers going the natural route when it comes to remedies and treatments. I don't know how 'natural' Scope is - but I would agree that it is less intense than bug spray. Anyway, this wasn't the first time I had heard my mom's theory that mouthwash keeps bugs away. In preparation for playing with the girls in our buggy backyard, she had brought the bottle of Scope over to our house a few weeks ago. Unfortunately we left the spray bottle- her only spray bottle- back there.

Its just hard to express into words that moment as we were all sitting around my parent's patio table on the deck, eating kopetka (like potato-y dumplingies), Polish-style prepared beef (nicknamed Ola's beef), and carrot, raisin, mango, orange salad while my mom literally was dumping Scope in the palm of her hand and then sprinkling it about the perimeter of the table and on our chairs. A couple more handfuls were dispersed onto the center of the table.

All in all, the bees did stay away, for periods of 10-15 minutes at a time, and then my mom would have to re-sprinkle.

Mom: I need to spray some more.
Me: Would you really call that spraying?

I really regret not having my camera with me, because the visual was just so rich. Though we all got a good laugh out of the whole thing, I'm sure one of these days someone will come on Oprah or The Today Show and announce that mouthwash is the new hottest, green, bug spray.

Ilana's baby

This morning, Ilana rubbed her belly and said, "My baby hurts."

Sometimes I just don't know how we're going to add one more.

Boobie or Baby?

The girls recently invented a game where one will point to (or grab) a buldge on my body and the other will exclaim whether it is a boobie or a baby. Then they switch. Sometimes they try to trip each other up and say boobie when they mean baby. Sometimes I play too.

The Sunday that everything fell apart

So is there like some cardinal rule of parenting - or at least twin parenting - that just when you think you've got control of something, everything falls apart?

Did I say something about potty training going "better than expected?" Did I dare to think that we have had some decent nights of sleep over the past couple weeks? Well, I must have been tempting fate. Our Sunday looked like this:

-Ilana's night wakenings are back. The morning at our house started at 4:34 a.m.

-After several unsuccessful potty attempts at home and Starbucks, Ilana ended up pooping in her pants, at the park.

-Then she went down the slide.

-After the park, Orli completely melted down at a family brunch. By melted down, I mean screaming and crying "HOME, HOME, HOME" until we left.

-Once home, the girls refused to nap.

-After an over an hour of crying, Ilana ended up clocking in one hour and Orli had zero nap.

-Outside of our friends' place in the city, Ilana pooped in her pants for a second time.

-We only had 2 wipes left.

-Just before we got into the car, Orli spilled orange juice all over herself and Darin.

-Once home, Orli pooped in her pants.

I think that about covers it. Oh, and our new pool had a hole in it so Darin had to get a new one.


left: the new froggie pool
below: a moment of cuteness occuring halfway between the poop in the city and the poop in the burbs.

The Potty Continued

With his summer school job complete, Darin is now home with the girls for the next month or so. Wednesday he took the girls shopping to find a new potty seat for "the big potty." The girls are completely obsessed with this new Elmo one. Ilana loves to climb up on it and sing "la la la, la la la, Elmo's World" and after flushing Orli waves and says "bye, bye, Elmo."

Overall, potty training has gone much better than expected.The girls are out of diapers all day long except for naps and bedtime. There are occasional accidents (usually in the park) but for the most part, the girls really get it.

The girls love love love their cousin Ami. This past weekend he and Uncle Dan came over to play. The kids spent most of the time running up and down the halls with doll strollers screaming.

Then they all took a bath together. It was perhaps the cutest bath of all time.

Pool

After a few 90 degree days last week we bought a pool with a little slide. The girls seemed to love it though, more than swimming, they were into filling up their watering cans and dumping the water out.

The new pool gave us (Darin) incentive to cut the grass in the back yard which had grown to gargantuan lengths. It also served as a nice feet cooler-downer for my large, pregnant self.

Night Out

In an attempt to have a night out to myself and make new suburban friends, I accompanied a sister of a friend to a newly formed young women's Hadassah group. Hadassah is a Zionist women's fundraising organization that supports hospitals, health care and other initiatives in Israel. I don't know too much about the organization other than that, but I have heard that women get together in these chapters and it can be a source of socialization for these ladies.

It was a dessert/recipe exchange - bring your favorite dessert and copies of the recipe to share. I brought copies of my mom's carrot cake recipe and a bowl of fruit salad since it was too hot to bake. I got a few weird looks at first, but the fruit got devoured.

Being some who has fundraised for a few years now - it was a little painful for me to be there as it was clear that no one was really comfortable asking for money. But worse, they also didn't really talk about the organization and where the dollars go.

They spent more time talking about the upcoming meetings which will include painting pottery and Pampered Chef. That was even more painful for me.

After making a joke about my Monday nights being cleared up now that The Bachelorette is over (well, half joke, half real), I managed to move the group conversation to my favorite topic - reality TV - which made me really happy.

Versailles Part II

Ok, here we go. ..

A few more couples had entered the dining room - very dressed up and very Russian.

Then our first course of food came. Now here is a slice of my family. My dad and aunt ordered mushroom soup - actually very delicious - with the intent of sharing with the whole table. And we did. My uncle had ordered Vinaigrette - which is like a cold beet chopped salad. They brought him a bowl of hot borscht. We all stared silently as it was placed in front of him. Once the wait staff left, he started eating it. I wondered aloud if I had heard his order wrong. He paused and concluded that he probably should have ordered the borscht anyway. It was pretty tasty. We all took a spoon.

My aunt ordered these crazy - crazy - carrots. They were raw strips of carrots mixed with a lot of chopped garlic. Like so much garlic that it hurt to eat. We all took a taste. We all squirmed as the bite hit us hard and then went for more. We concluded that we would all be healthier if we had more garlic in our lives.


I brought the carrot leftovers home and Darin made me toss them because, even in a sealed container in the fridge, they made our entire house smell like a garlic factory.

Now luckily this whole time in the restaurant I was sitting with my back to the rest of the room. This way I could control my mortification as more people filed in. By now a very large man in a suit and a woman in a backless dress came in and starting greeting the others. Then I noticed that the others were all carrying gifts. Slowly more guests were filing in and taking their seats in of the four long tables.

I thought I had figured out what was happening. "Maybe a rehearsal dinner?" I asked my mom.

"Probably a wedding reception."

WHAATT?? a WEDDING? We were crashing these random Russians' private wedding reception?? And we were trapped in the far back of the room?

Sure enough, just after we got our main dishes, another large man came on to the dance floor with a mic. He introduced himself in half English, half Russian. Then he gave his toast.


"When I think of Nicolas and Natasha" (by the way I just made up those names - I honestly can't remember them but please bare with me)

"When I think of Nicolas and Natasha...." My dad who was sitting next to me grunted and turned his chair all the way around for a better view. I almost died. I stared at the mushroom soup.

"...only word word comes to mind. " Long dramatic pause. "Gorka!"

The crowd cheered. "GORKA!"And everyone drank. End of toast. I asked my family what gorka means and my mom and uncle just laughed. "It means...Gorka." My dad applauded with the rest of the wedding guests. I buried my head in my water.


Now the waiters approached the wall directly behind our table and pulled down a screen. A SCREEN? Somewhere a projector was turned on and what might as well have been Russian MTV started on the screen. Like Hip Hop, half naked Russian women MTV. The music kicked in pretty loud. My mom, uncle and aunt turned their chairs around for better view.

The waiter asked if we wanted dessert. Somehow we got onto the topic of Buffalo Grove with him and he proudly announced that BG has the 2nd largest concentration of Russians outside of Moscow - or something like that - and is also the 2nd largest drunk driving town. I don't really think that either of those statements have been verified but still can't believe how proud he was of his "facts."

I was ready to bolt when my aunt ordered what sounded like a really good dessert and five spoons. I also noticed that in the meantime people were up on the stage setting something up. Before I could decide whether I would regret staying to satisfy my cravings, MTV came down and the curtains opened to a live band. Well a man with a key board synthesiser and a woman with a mic. A familiar beat began and so did she.

"Heat me baby won more time."


I almost died. Again. The dance floor started to fill up and the disco ball lit up. Our dessert came and I couldn't resist a few bites. By now it was close to 10 p.m. and I really needed to go. There was no graceful way out so I cut across the whole dance floor, nearly knocking over the group of five (I'm guessing) single ladies dancing in a circle. In the parking lot I ran into the bride and groom who were smoking with about 50% of their guests, the hostess and the old woman in sequins.

Versailles Part I

Cindy, one of my co-workers, asked me to write a story from a few months back. It was a great story when I told it at the time but having to write it down months later will test my remembering and writing skills - two skills that I'm not too proud of but would like to improve with this blog-xperiment. I've always been able to tell a story far better than writing it down.

My aunt and uncle came in from Oregon this past April for Passover. The first Sedar wasn't until Saturday night and my mom approached me about finding a nice restaurant we could all go to on Friday night. She gave me a list Russian restaurants in the northwest suburbs recommended by her across the street Russian party animal neighbors and asked me to look them up on the internet.

Metromix led us to settle on Versailles Restaurant just steps from my parents house:

"Versailles Restaurant's Russian and French menu includes foie gras, tuna tartar, borscht, mixed vegetables vinegrette, Siberian ravioli and chicken Kiev served in a super-posh dining room with crystal glasses and chandeliers and candelabras for lighting. The crowd is mostly Russian, but anyone who's curious is advised to come on a weekday or plan in advance; Friday and Saturday get busy, with live international music adding an extra draw, so reservations are recommended one month ahead. "

We didn't have a month lead time - in fact we had only a day and a half. My mom called and after speaking to the owner who had to check to see if they could make it work (???) she called her back the next day to say that our party of five would be welcome at 7:30 p.m.

After putting the girls to bed, I found my dressiest maternity top and raced over by 8:00 p.m. Walking in, I was struck by the extreme juxtaposition between the Buffalo Grove strip mall exterior and the extravagant interior of heavy burgundy drapes that covered the windows and chandeliers that dressed the ceiling. Metromix was right on with the decor.

I approached the empty hostess desk and an elderly Russian woman dressed a sequined off-white dress sat in a chair just to the side and silently watched (judged) me. Also she didn't react to my reaching-out half smile. After looking around for a bit, a woman in black finally came out. Convinced that my family was here already - perhaps tucked away in a brimming dining room somewhere in the back, I asked the woman if I could go look for them. She shrugged her shoulders as I proceeded to let myself into the one and only dining room.

The one - completely empty- dining room. Picture a stage in the back of the room with a good sized dance floor in front. And big speakers. Long tables, lending themselves to family-style eating went around the dance floor. Each table had heavy burgundy cloths. Each table was dressed with a GIGANTIC candelabra. The chairs were velvety. And literally, there was no one in the room. I stepped back to hostess stand and back into the room. A couple of waiters began to shuffle in and out and gave me funny looks.

I had that familiar 'Why am I here; I knew this would happen' feeling in my gut. I scooted myself outside to the parking lot and flipped open my phone when I saw my mom's red Subaru Forester start to pull in. My family emerged dressed pretty casual - well, casual relative to the old woman in sequins.

Inside my mom could immediatly communicate in Russian and the hostess politely led us all into the --still empty -- dining room. We made our way to the far inside very last table on the left side of the dance floor. A bus boy came and filled our crystal water glasses. Did I mention that there was NO ONE ELSE in the room?

I recounted my humiliation of the past 15 minutes as my family began to peruse the menu. No one seemed to be quite as bothered by the bizarreness of the whole situation.

After we ordered our food, a few people started to trickle in. But strangely they didn't sit down. Also they all seemed to know one another. And they were dressed very fancy. There were little boys in little suits and little girls in flower-girl type dressed that chased each other around the dance floor. The parents just stood around and mingled. They all seemed to know everyone including the hostess, the waiters and the old woman in sequins.

(OK so this is where I go back to work and write more tomorrow....Stay tuned for Versailles Part II) The screen behind us in the photo above is a hint to what lies ahead. Below is another photo taken that night that will hopefully serve as a teaser as well:

The Potty

We started potty training last weekend. Our main motivation is to not have three kids in diapers at the same time. It is has been frustrating, exhilarating, annoying, rewarding and terrifying all at once. They have both shown signs of getting it and then totally not getting it.

We offered them one sticker for a pee pee on the potty and they negotiated five stickers for a poop.

Haircut

I just chopped my hair. All in all, the total damage was 4-5 inches. It was getting so long and unruly and I felt it weighing me down daily. It must have been really bad because I even told the new girl that I wasn't attached to the length at all.

"Just do whatever you think."

Ok, so here is where all you girls with thick, curly hair gasp. We all know by now that you can't ever say that to someone with that much power over our lives.

The first truly horrible school picture I had was fourth grade. That was when my hair began to resemble a redheaded Richard Marx. For some reason my mom was convinced that with that much hair, we HAD to keep it short. By sixth grade (conveniently the worst grade ever to socially stand out in any way) my hair had a life of its own. And it was a short, frizzy, bushy, out of control life. I haven't had the therapy to really delve into some of the trauma that was sixth grade at Longfellow. Let's just say that the nickname "Salad" came about one day in Mrs. Lindberg's science class and didn't leave for many months to come. My diary from that time resembles one of a total unstable, violent, angry, come-to-school-and-fire-away-at-the-mean-kids girl. And I can honestly say that so much of that had to do with my horrible hair.

It was near the end of eighth grade, getting ready for opening night of the Variety Show, when I finally discovered mousse and it changed my life. Eventually I stopped the cutting, survived the difficult growing out phase and learned to stop brushing it out. Freshman year was a whole new ball game. A year later, I even had my first official boyfriend. I'll never forget when we went to go see "A River Runs Through It" at Ridge Plaza and he asked me for my school picture.

These days my hair routine is similar to our nighttime routine with the girls in that, regardless of what others say, I know the exact process that has to take place to avoid total anarchy. I know when hair people tell me to try new products - a sculpting creme or something, or if they want to show me how to blow dry it out, I just smile and nod. When I go home the routine remains the same: brush it out with Pantene in the shower, Finesse Curl Revitalizing mousse afterwards, a couple scrunches and that's it. Some days its better and other days its worse but it is by far the most reliable daily ritual I have come up with and I am sticking with it.

That's why this haircut was so crazy. I just let a total stranger chop away at it with no regard to how far I have come. I must have really felt I needed this kind of a change. Also I'm just too exhausted from daily life to think too much about it. Its just less annoying to deal with.

Twin Guilt

I heard someone once say that parents of multiples are always trying to make things as "equal" as possible for their kids and usually end up failing and feeling guilty regardless of their efforts.

I felt that twin guilt from the day we brought the girls home from the hospital. I remember trying to feed both girls at the same time in those early days. I had figured out a way to give them both a bottle with Ilana in the bouncy seat and Orli across my lap, balanced on the My Breast Friend boppy. It was the best system I could figure out in that challenging time, but even then, I couldn't help feeling guilty that Orli was snuggled close to me, while Ilana was relegated to cold, bouncy seat. When I tried to mix it up, it invariably resulted in one, both or all three of us crying.

The twin guilt cloud came over me again as I looked back on this blog. I realized that I have featured Orli and her love for all things blue but haven't shared anything unique and personal about Ilana. Ilana is smart, hilarious, quirky and like none other. It's not like she needs me to advocate for her and I feel like a sympathy post would not do her justice.

So until I give her the equal blog time she deserves, I'll just post an adorable picture for now. At least that will keep things somewhat even.

Darin got the job. We are all excited that he has formal employment for the fall. Is it the exact perfect location and salary he was looking for? No...but I've told him to stop saying that to everyone. Its a job and its a good job and its going to be great.

A week at Lake of the Ozarks, Osage Beach, Missouri.

The girls did awesome on the car trip down. We arrived around 10:30 p.m. ish to a beautiful 4 bdrm, 3bath, 2 floor apartment. My brother and his family arrived around 4:30 a.m. after a much worse 20 hours of traveling.

The week (er 4 days) was great bonding and relaxing time for our family. Highlights include blowing bubbles on the patio, going up and down the elevator, frequenting the pool every afternoon, Big Surf Waterpark, and Bridal Cave. Oh and the nice man outside the cave who gave the girls fish food to feed the over sized carp. Oh, and the girls figuring out how to do a choo choo train down a slide. My brother's family is on a way different schedule than us so we usually took the mornings with the girls and spent the afternoons and dinner all together. The girls were OBSESSED with baby Mai.

The way home was a bit more stressful than the way there. We sort of broke Heather's portable DVD player.

Oh, and as for me and my brother - only one fight about our nation's health care system that resulted in me crying and locking myself in the bathroom. Pretty good for us.

Orli continues to prefer all things blue.

Darin graduated from U of C graduate school a few weeks ago. It was a huge accomplishment for all of us. I'm really proud of Darin for sticking with it and never once talking about giving up. I'm really proud of the rest of us for pulling together and supporting him.

Its hard to believe that since he started we have had two kids; two pregnancies (well, one full and one started); we've lived in 4 homes; had 4 cars; I've had 2 jobs and Darin has had many including working for Shorashim, as a waiter at Famous Dave's, as a Sunday School Teacher, a Bar-Mitzvah Tutor, Hebrew School Tutor, School Social Work intern, Thresholds intern, Summer School Social Worker, and Stay at Home Dad.

We're excited and nervous about what lies ahead of us.

He has an interview today for the fall.

We're leaving on a road trip today to Lake of the Ozarks, Missouri. Its 5 hours to St. Louis and then another 3 and a half to my brother's timeshare.

It will be interesting and hopefully not horrible to see how the girls fare on this trip. Last summer we drove 14 hours (it took us actually 20) to Winnipeg, Manitoba for a wedding with the girls. They did great, but were so much younger at the time.

It will also be interesting and hopefully not horrible to see how I fare spending a week in an apartment with my brother and his family. The last time we lived together for that amount of time was over 15 years ago.

Blue, Mama, Blue

Orli's favorite color has become blue. First we thought she liked it so much because it was the only color she could say. Now can say other colors, but still only prefers everything blue.

Every day we try - TRY - to find something - or everything - blue to wear. On this particular Saturday, I looked and looked for two of the same blue socks. Darin thought I was nutty but in the end, she was just as happy with the mismatched pair.

Of everyone who pitches in to watch the girls all week and on weekends, I am the only one who has braved painting with the girls outside. We've used paintbrushes, sponges, those kitchen brushes you are supposed to use to paint bread with egg wash, and our fingers. The girls wear the same painting clothes each time - their "I was named at BJBE" tshirts and leggings or a halloween skirt.

Lately I have had this tremendous feeling of guilt for being a working mom. Logically, I know why I'm working and how important it is for my family. But I can't help but feel I am not with them enough and I miss a lot of what they do. I can't help but feel like I wish I was home with them.

It gives me a nice feeling that I am the only one who has given painting to them. We've only done it a couple times, but so far, they've loved it.

School Lunch

I don't remember what I had packed in my lunch pre-moving to Buffalo Grove. It doesn't stand out in any way to me. But I distinctly remember the importance of the contents of lunch when I entered fourth grade at Longfellow Elementary.

My new friend Marisa had great lunches. White bread with yellow cheese. Maybe there was turkey in there. An apple. And my dream - a baggie of Doritos.

My lunch consisted of Polish rye bread. Either the long narrow kind chocked full of seeds or the really dark almost black kind that crumbled when attempted to be eaten in a sandwich format. The bread was heavily buttered. Inside was cut up, hard, Polish kielbasa with a strong, spicy smell. The small unruly pieces loved to tumble out of the bread. I also had an orange, a baggy of radishes and a juice box.

I learned very quickly how to survive at Longfellow with that kind of lunch.
Rule #1 - all of the contents remained in the brown bag at all times until I was ready to deal with them one by one.
Rule #2 If I wasn't totally starving, I could eat the orange, drink the juice box and pop a few radishes in while no one was looking.
Rule #3 If I WAS totally starving, I allowed myself to eat a few bites of the sandwich but only if I kept most of it in the baggie and most of the baggie in the brown bag. To the untrained eye, I was eating some sort of a sandwich but by the time it got to too many questions I would shove it all back in the bag and head for the trash.

I'll never forget when some girl lost her retainer and had to dive for it in the trash. I remember her coming up and saying, "EW it smells like sausage in there." I threw my entire lunch away site unseen that whole week.

These days I'm totally weirded out that people love grainy, dark, long breads and that white bread is a thing of the past. Recently Linda, a co-worker, fought me for the last remaining pumpernickel bagel in the staff kitchen.

Henna Lady

Last week, my mom and I went to get our eye brows waxed and eye lashes henna-ed. According to my mom, the henna part is pretty common in Europe. I have yet to verify any reports that this is actually done anywhere in the states other than in the Polish neighborhood on Milwaukee Avenue in Chicago or in a Polish woman's basement -which is where my mom and I have been going for the last ten years.

We have actually been going to the Henna Lady for a total of fourteen years. For the first four, we made the 50 minute trek from Buffalo Grove to the Milwaukee Avenue Polish neighborhood. We soon started to see her exclusively as she was the most precise and her dye seemed to last at least a month or so. Our routine each time is almost exactly the same as it has been for the last ten years as my mom sets up the appointment and notifies me of the time. We each travel separately and the first one to exit the highway at Schiller Park usually calls the other. We wait for each other to walk in.

Inside, the Henna Lady escorts us to her basement. We usually exchange a wave to her husband on the couch before descending down to the exercise room/beauty parlor. We make small talk about family and the holidays but never ever talk about the fact that we are Jewish. The Henna Lady used to make subtle and not so subtle antisemitic comments and jokes but those have stopped for the most part. We're pretty sure she figured it out about 5-7 years ago.

I never have cash on me when we are the Henna Lady's and therefore my mom always pays the $22 she charges us for henna-ing both sets of eyelashes and the eyebrow wax. Last week, however, I somehow had a folded up 20 and a 5 in my wallet. For the first time I told my mom it was on me.