grandparents

THE YIZKOR CANDLE by Jacqueline Becker as it appears in MSK anthology

Posted on by miriambarrie

 

download-4.jpg

     It was time to light the Yizkor, or memorial candle.  We traditionally light it during the week of shiva, or mourning.  We light it at sundown just before we light the four major holiday candles.  We also light it on the anniversary of the death of a close member the family.  The candle represents the soul.  Yizkor is the command verb to remember.  It would translate into:  “He SHALL remember.”  Remembering is imperative in our religion.  The candle is meant to burn a full 24 hours. 

    When our department took our supervisor out to celebrate her retirement, we went to a small, lovely Mexican restaurant.  It was late afternoon and the staff began to light the candles on our table.  My colleague-friend, Debbi, looked at me and I looked back at her.  We were the only ones who understood.  We burst out in laughter.  We could not hold back as the tears streamed down our cheeks.     To be continued tomorrow…

My promo is over in 2 days and so far…

Posted on by miriambarrie

221 people are reading my book over the last 3 days.

Four more just sold…

Posted on by miriambarrie

This book is an easy read but makes you think.  Please take it with you to the beach or pool or consider giving as a gift.  My book goes great with summer.

Wayne Thiebaud is my grandson’s favorite artist so…

Posted on by miriambarrie

I watch Jim Cramer whenever I can and I listen to him.  I do not buy stocks based on his recommendations BUT I listen to his advice.  I am a teacher, like him.  He tells us to get kids interested in stocks at an early age.  And the way to do it is by asking them what products they know and like.  Well,  after a sloppy explanation of what a stock is, and even I cannot wrap my head around what a stock actually is, I asked my grandson if he would be interested in the Walt Disney Company.  He said he did not like Frozen, so he would pass on that hypothetical stock.  But then he said he would like Netflix.  Now why didn’t I ask him 2 years ago, when Netflix was still affordable?  Then he thought:  What about a company that makes…you guessed it:  CHOCOLATE?

MY GRANDSON REFUSED TO SIGN MY MOTHER’S DAY CARD!

Posted on by miriambarrie

Mother’s Day is here!  We have an unusual tradition that my daughter invented.  My daughter and I celebrate Mother’s Day together the day before Mother’s Day.   She devotes almost the entire day and we spend it together doing girl things.  We chit chat over tea.  We buy junk jewelry.  We wander in and out and about town.  We sit down to lunch.  We get reflexology.  It is truly a great gift because my daughter is so busy.  I have to thank my son-in-law and my grandkids for sparing their mom for the entire day.  It makes us feel younger – like when my daughter was in high school.

On the real Mother’s Day, my daughter is the mother that her children celebrate.

She brought me a card and flowers and asked my granddaughter and grandson to sign.  My granddaughter sent me a “jewel.”  My grandson who is older and can write, refused to sign.

“It’s Mother’s Day,” the six year old lawyer inside him said.  “It’s not Grandmother’s Day,” he explained.

And the more I think about it, the more I respect his judgement to honor his Mother on this day!  And my daughter promised me that he will get me a card on Grandparents day!

 

 

 

 

 

 

GIVE ME BACK MY FACE!

Posted on by miriambarrie

 

I have come to the conclusion that there is a narcissist inside each and every one of us.  My granddaughter— well, she looks like me.  Even though she has her dad’s nose and his mother’s round face, she looks like me.  Even though she is built a little chunky and she has sturdy legs and feet, and I have thin legs and high arches, she looks like me.  She does not have my blue eyes.  But she has my hair.  Her hair is curly and wavy.  It has a wildness to it.  It needs work.   But after a bit of detangler and after someone runs a comb through it, and after someone twists a little piece and puts a ribbon in, she is striking.  

She has my look, my expressions, my feistiness.  She is charming and likes to laugh.  She likes to make others laugh.  She is engaging and she can hold a conversation.  

I had plucked a wild chin hair and it left a mark.  June noticed it when I was changing her diaper.  

“What’s that boo-boo?” she asked with sweet compassion.  She reached up and gently pulled my face down and said:

“I want to kiss that boo-boo.”  And she did.

Then she squirmed off the bed with an intent look on her face.  She has something to do and somewhere she has to be.  She is two and a half.

Dare to cross her, and she will give you a piece of her mind.  On occasion, she is knows to scream:

“Get out of here!  I didn’t ask for YOU!”

I cannot help it.

“Give me back my face,” I say mildly amused.  She laughs and pretends to rip her face off and put it on my head.  

“Give me back my hair,” I continue in awe that my looks and possibly my personality skipped a generation.   She is undeniably a part of me.  She pretends to pull her hair out and puts it on me.  But in a split second she takes back both her face and her hair.  

I look at her and I see a little me.  And I can’t help but be a little narcissistic and ever so proud!

377 words

MY GRANDDAUGHTER DOES NOT REFER TO ME AS “GRANDMA”

Posted on by miriambarrie

My not quite-three-year-old granddaughter wanted her mother, my daughter, to read her a book, but my daughter was busy with my grandson.  “Ask Grandma to read to you,” suggested my daughter.  My granddaughter put her hands on her hip, opened her mouth and in a very Queens accent, said:  “I don’t want FAKE mommy.  I want my REAL momma!”

OFFSHOOTS FROM WRITING

Posted on by miriambarrie

I got to sit in Johanna Hurwitz’s study and chat with her for almost two hours.  Johanna Hurwitz, author of CLASS CLOWN, ALI BABA BERNSTEIN, ALDO APPLESAUCE AND MORE THAN 70 OTHER BOOKS, is my hero.  This invite came via mutual friends who read my book.  I had taken a workshop with Johanna years ago.

Anyway, my daughter sent the principal of my grandson’s school Johanna’s proposal.  I am praying that Johanna Hurwitz, who is one of my daughter’s beloved authors, and is now my grandson’s and granddaughter’s beloved author, will be a guest speaker at my my grandson’s school.  I will post when this will actually happen.

IF YOU HAVE GRANDKIDS, GO TO AMAZON.COM AND PURCHASE HER BOOKS AS GIFTS. YOUR OWN KIDS WILL THANK YOU FOR REMINDING THEM OF SOME OF THEIR CHILDHOOD FAVORITES.

THE DOLLHOUSE IS FINISHED!

Posted on by miriambarrie

I finished the kids’ room.   For those of you who remember the baby shower – these dolls have a Merimekko elephant wall hanging.  And like the original, that wall hanging dictated the room decoration.

Anyone want to play dolls with me?

GIVE ME BACK MY FACE!

Posted on by miriambarrie

GIVE ME BACK MY FACE
Jacqueline Becker

I have come to the conclusion that there is a narcissist inside each and every one of us. My granddaughter— well, she looks like me. Even though she has her dad’s nose and his mother’s round face, she looks like me. Even though she is built a little chunky and she has sturdy legs and feet, and I have thin legs and high arches, she looks like me. She does not have my blue eyes. But she has my hair. Her hair is curly and wavy. It has a wildness to it. It needs work. But after a bit of detangler and after someone runs a comb through it, and after someone twists a little piece and puts a ribbon in, she is striking.
She has my look, my expressions, my feistiness. She is charming and likes to laugh. She likes to make others laugh. She is engaging and she can hold a conversation.
I had plucked a wild chin hair and it left a mark. June noticed it when I was changing her diaper.
“What’s that boo-boo?” she asked with sweet compassion. She reached up and gently pulled my face down and said:
“I want to kiss that boo-boo.” And she did.
Then she squirmed off the bed with an intent look on her face. She has something to do and somewhere she has to be. She is two and a half.
Dare to cross her, and she will give you a piece of her mind. On occasion, she is known to scream:
“Get out of here! I didn’t ask for YOU!”
I cannot help it.
“Give me back my face,” I say mildly amused. She laughs and pretends to rip her face off and put it on my head.
“Give me back my hair,” I continue in awe that my looks and possibly my personality skipped a generation. She is undeniably a part of me. She pretends to pull her hair out and puts it on me. But in a split second she takes back both her face and her hair.
I look at her and I see a little me. And I can’t help but be a little narcissistic and ever so proud!

377 words