As grandmothers and mothers-in-law, we often find ourselves in a tizzy.
Oh no! The kids did this…
Oh my goodness – what are they thinking?
It’s really not okay that they did this, that or the other thing.
I myself have been known to create drama out of simple innocent acts of those around me. Usually it takes a few hours or maybe a good night’s sleep for me to realize that I really need to chill out. Or, in other cases, we “work it out,” and all is well. Continue reading
Here is my Post-Barbecue – my recap of the barbecue:
Firstly, I read my previous post and thought to myself how it does sound kind of “oy-ish” — (read: negative!) but hey, that’s my blog – the Bubby Joys and Oys…and what fun would it be if I – the Grandmother/Bubby only reported on the Joys all the time?!! I was stressed today at the end of the day, and as much as I was looking forward to being with family and entertaining them, I was tired and a bit tense.
To report on the barbecue: The good news is: a) I didn’t overeat tonight. I had vegetables and chicken! Yay me!! And b) A great time was had by all. Everyone filled their stomachs, and enjoyed each others’ company.The baby charmed everyone with his adorable smiles and flirting with the adults. His five year old brother charmed everyone with his sweet comments and cheerful disposition. I had so much nachas having the kids around me, baruch Hashem. And we even snapped a bunch of family pictures.
Almost all the food is gone so that’s a good sign. And as it is now October 4th, I look forward to our future barbecues – in the autumn (which it is now!), winter, and the spring …(not summer anymore – although the weather has been in triple digits lately here in Southern California.)
For now: good night, and have a wonderful weekend and Shabbos!
I had arrived at a huge event of the “Siyum Hashas” last week on Wednesday. My husband came home from work early, so we could leave at 3:30 for the program that began at 4:45 at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion in Downtown Los Angeles. There was no traffic surprisingly, and we parked, ate our lunch in the courtyard, rented binoculars, and submitted our pre-purchased tickets to the uniformed doorman by 4:15 pm. We were ready to go into the theatre and the doors were still not opened.
No problem. We sat in the huge lobby and relaxed. I heard my cell phone beep, and noticed a text from my mother who lives in New York. Noticing that she had sent me a picture attachment, I opened it, expecting to see the counterpart Siyum that took place in the MetLife Stadium in New Jersey.
Instead, to my alarm, was a photo of my mom in a hospital room. Her face was all bruised and bleeding. She had bandages on her forehead. My mom was sitting on what appeared to be a hospital bed, fully clothed. Her eyes were as blue as ever, against her flushed face. Except for the black and blue marks all over her face, she didn’t look too bad. (I guess……). If not for her huge smile, I might have fainted. But I stayed strong.
I called my mom. She didn’t answer. I sat there – glued to the plush bench, feeling quite worried. Here I was in the expansive lobby, waiting to enter a theatre and watch a momentous exhibit of Jewish men celebrating the completion of a 7 1/2 year Talmud learning goal, and my spunky mom just sent me a scary picture of herself. Continue reading
One of the perks of being “middle-aged” (okay, okay a loaded phrase..) is becoming wiser. Being able to differentiate and decide between the when,, the where, the how, the why. Knowing the difference between things, discerning, and then acting upon it. And also: when to “do it myself/yourself” (DIM or DIY) or when to get others to “do it for me” (DIFM?).
These days, I find myself doing less, and delegating more. For example, I don’t take pictures so much anymore (see previous post!), but I relax and ask my kids to email me the pictures that they have taken. Now that’s called DELEGATING. Not that I’m adverse to snapping a picture of my grandkids performing the most incredible feat that no other woman’s grandchild has ever ever accomplished. No. That’s not it. Continue reading