Trains and cigars. It's like the 1950s out here.

My alarm went off at seven this morning, leaving me time to get ready for the day, pack my bag and head off to breakfast.

Somehow I got late, panicky late, and I forgot my camera and my computer and I ran out to the taxi, missed breakfast and got on the train. I was trying really hard to will my computer and my camera to come to me on the weird, blurry train when I got news that my childhood neighbor had died. It was odd, because I hadn’t answered my phone and yet I was on it and my mom was telling me about his passing.

Then R said, “Kimmy!” into my left ear and my eyes nearly popped out of my head.

The good news was my neighbor’s life had been spared, but the bad news was that after the alarm ringing at seven, I had fallen back to sleep and dreamt about getting ready.

It was 7:30 and my train was pulling out of the station in fourteen minutes.

“Go upstairs!” I hissed at R, who knows better than to come in my room, ever, at all, without my permission and before I am up. We haven’t had this problem in a long, long, long time.

She had said something else to me, I think about a circus, but I can’t be sure because that was when I still thought my neighbor was dead and I was dream-grieving. I also tend to be delirious in that state. I once looked at my mom when she tried to wake me one morning and my eyes saw her in a formal gown, all dressed to go out.

“Why are you so dressed up?” I snapped at her, because snapping is all I can muster before nine.

“I’m not.” She had said, looking at me like I was crazy. Then I blinked and her turtle neck and jeans came into focus and I was so very confused.

R intelligently ran away without another word and I leapt out of my new mosquito netting and ran upstairs to brush my teeth.

I had picked out an outfit the night before but I hadn’t tried it on, so I had to swap tops three or four times before I got it right. I hopped around trying to put shoes on, remembered to pack my camera and my computer and at the last minute pulled my headphones and iPod from one purse and dropped them into today’s bag.

I called a cab, confident that even though I hadn’t done my hair or makeup, I was ready to go. I grimaced at the horrible patch of bug bites that I am beginning to think aren’t bug bites on my neck and wished I could cover them up.

They just materialized there one day, and so did two on my hip and one on my lower leg. They all look the same and feel the same and itch like crazy and they all happened the day I rearranged my room and crossed paths with armies of tiny, angry spiders. I chocked it up to their doing and then put up my net and no new ones appeared.

But then today, when I finally did make it to my brother’s, the first thing he said to me was hi and then, “Is that poison ivy?”

While I still don’t think it’s poison ivy, because I haven’t been in the wild for like, weeks, I hadn’t considered that it might be a rash of some sort. Of course after that I Googled and then spent ten minutes when I got home checking for allergens, mold and bed bugs. I can’t find any, so I don’t know what to think.

But these “bites” have been itchy and unchanged for about four days now.

Send help.

Anyway, I missed my train.

I caught the next one, which would put me in Penn Station with ten minutes to get over to my next train. Confident that I could do it if I ran, I took a seat on the LIRR train and pulled out my headphones. I put them on, sat back and dreamed of the day when train schedules accommodate me and my life and I don’t have to get up so early to see my friends and family.

About ten minutes later I realized that my headphones weren’t connected to anything, and that when I pulled them out of that other purse they must have disconnected from the iPod because it was not in my bag.

I made it to Penn, ran over to Transit, got my ticket and stood there waiting for my track announcement.
Instead, my train was put on stand by and then a big, bold DELAYED.

The lady doing announcements said they were unloading cargo and they would call us when they felt like it. Maybe not verbatim, but that was the tone.

Fifteen minutes after departing time, we boarded and I wondered if this meant I was going to miss my connection to Hackettstown. I tried really hard in that moment to not curse NJ Transit in my head but my head was still so morning-foggy that I don’t even know if I was successful.

I pictured my day being ruined, because the next connection put me there in the late afternoon and just wasn’t worth it, and me returning home twenty dollars lighter and with nothing to show for it.

My thoughts were broken by a new announcer saying the connecting trains were being held until our arrival.

Hallelujah.

I got out my computer to do some work.

I transferred uneventfully and as I was exiting my last train in Hack, I looked up to see my brother and his tiny son on the train, waving hello. It was the brightest greeting I ever got from little Sammy. He usually takes longer to warm up to me.

He made my day a thousand more times, giving me kissies and showing me his toys and letting me hold him. I snapped a few quick photos of their little family while we walked in the park and then we went back to their house to eat again.

And drink a little.

Mark, my one-time travel companion to Africa, had scored some cigars that were exactly the kind we bought in Africa, so he came for dinner and then we sat around puffing smoke and watching John’s stupid dog and Mark’s stupid dog chase each other around the yard.

Coming home was less frustrating than going in, because I didn’t dream that I was doing it or that any harm had come to anyone I know and love. But I still missed a train and hung out a little longer in order to catch the next one.

I got home an hour later than intended, and I should be going to bed now, but I “accidentally” drank a cup of coffee while waiting for that last train and now my brain is on overdrive.

I got home to Willie the idiot barking at me and I thought, I have really been around too many dogs today.
Then I thought twenty other things because of that overdrive thing I mentioned and now I am sitting on my bed, wondering how in the world I am going to function tomorrow.

It will probably involve more coffee.
　

Chatter.

A lot of talking has gone on here lately.

We are so funny and you wish you could hear us in the car. Every time we go somewhere or come home from somewhere we make so much noise laughing that the baby can’t sleep. Most recently there was talk about how T forgets to pay me on pay day (Thursday) and I forget that she hasn’t paid me until my next day off when I am going to pay bills (shop) or go out. We were defending our forgetfulness when E offered up a new plan.

“If Kimmy doesn’t remember by Sunday morning that she hasn’t been paid then she worked that week for free.”

Later, our conversation turned to poo and monitoring the kids daily dumps. I brought up how Monkey has been pooping two to three times a day lately and they’re HUGE. He’s gotten so used to my exclamations about them that he lies there on the changing table going, “Is it a huge poo?” And I’m like, “OH MY GOODNESS YES.”

So, I said, fine, if I don’t remember to get paid by Sunday and you stop paying me, I’m not changing Monkey’s diapers anymore.”

His plan was turned down after that.

We’ve made a tiny little baby step in potty training this monster. He’s two and a half-ish and he has control over his bowels and could totally be potty trained but he insists on peeing in random corners around the house and he downright refuses to poop on the potty. He gets stage fright and then holds it in for hours and after he missed a day of dumping and started to look a little green and lose his appetite, we thought we’d better lay off.

Whenever he’s home, I’ve started leaving him bottomless and that’s helping, but he still won’t poop.

The kids all start school in a week, so they had two weeks off between summer camp and school. J signed up for pee wee soccer and it’s soooooooo cute. He has tiny little cleats and tiny little shin guards and all these tiny little three years olds gather on the field and kick a ball around. His coach has him playing goalie a lot, because he’s really good. And that’s nice to know, because he’s not good at puzzles or games or blocks or coloring or sitting down for ten minutes and not whining about something, but he is really, really good at sports.

After his first day, he came home able to kick the ball with the inside of his foot, in a perfectly straight line. Anywhere we told him to aim it, he kicked it. He runs pretty fast, probably from our water fights on the front lawn. He’s really sneaky and he can come up behind me without me seeing him, spray me in the back with ice cold water and then take off before I have a chance to retaliate. R isn’t so quick, and she gets hit in the face with water a lot which is why she doesn’t play with us anymore.

She opted to do absolutely nothing for two weeks and she’s been following me around the house a lot and driving me insane.

Yesterday we went to KidStock, which is like WoodStock only nobody is high, the music has hand motions and there are clowns everywhere. Also, the ground is littered with remnants of arts and crafts projects instead of old roach clippings and beer bottles.

No, I have never been to WoodStock.

Anyway, we met Gordon from Sesame Street and it was the highlight of my day. We also met some weirdo clown from Cyberchase who was kind of funny but also a little annoying.

We were hanging out near the stage, shaking our booties to some island music when R spotted a friend of hers and we ran over to say hi. I waved T over from where she was hiding, nursing the baby, and she and the mom gabbed for a minute and made a play date for today.

This kid.

This kid shows up here today and before her mom even leaves, she’s acting like a brat. When she arrived Monkey and the tiny one were both asleep. T was home for an intermission from work and J was home from soccer early because a freak downpour had ruined our day.

This little girl came in here screaming and screeching and teasing J until he cried. Granted, he cries about everything, but little punk kid should know better than to go into someone else’s house and act like a demon spawn. You save that for home, horrible child.

Her mom apologized eighty times and yelled at her and asked what time she should pick her up. For some reason we said 4, giving us three hours with the wicked witch from Great Neck. The mother left and not ten minutes later, this kid had woken up Tiny. T put her in timeout (GO T!) and went to nurse the baby.

She had just decided to stay home, afraid to make me watch this little brat, when the girls miraculously settled down at the craft table to paint. J even joined them and peace reigned.

“Should I go?” T was nervous. Nanny K is leaving on Friday and her going is putting everyone on edge.
“Yeah, they’re fine now. If it blows up, I’ll call you.” At that point it was two and I only had two more hours. T was working locally today, so at the very worst I planned to call her and scream and then go hide in my shower until she got back.

After the craft table, the kids played nicely in the basement for a bit and then somewhere in there our little guest starting teasing J again.

I pulled her aside and got right in her face.

“Do you want me to call you mother right now?”

“No.”

“Good. Then knock it off.”

Poor R spent the entire play date going, “No! No, we can’t do that. I’m telling Kimmy.” She wasn’t even sad when the mom came back to pick her up at four.

Before that happened though, this did.

Monkey woke up around three and joined the kids in the playroom. Tiny baby tried and tried all day to get a nap and couldn’t because of all the noise. Fighting broke out in the playroom and since Tiny was in the living room and no one seemed to want to play in the basement, I decided to separate the kids and cling to my sanity for one more day.

Boys downstairs, girls upstairs.

Well.

Monkey flipped out. He wanted to play with the girls SO BAD that he started throwing the mother of all tantrums. Screaming with tears and snot and hiccups and everything. I tried all my usual routes and when nothing worked, I just carried him upstairs and deposited him in his crib.

He cried in there for twenty minutes or so before I got him to shut up and come back downstairs. By this time, Tiny was awake so I took Monkey into the living room to watch Barney Sing-Along on Netflix, so for those of you who share my Netflix, that’s why that comes up so much, ok? It’s not me. I hate Barney and everything he stands for.

Anyway, he calmed down for like five minutes while that started up and then J heard the big TV was on and came running and Monkey started sobbing, “Don’t want J to watch my Barney.”

I scoffed a couple of times and left the room.

There were more tears and screaming about having to share a bowl of animal crackers and then finally he had worked himself into such a state that he puked a little and that’s what shut him up for good.

He seems to hate puking.

Our horrible guest child went home shortly after that and then T’s mom came to watch the baby while I got dinner on. I love her.

After T got home this evening we were talking some more. About how horrible that girl who is never invited back here was and about how she had such a bad influence on our kids in one afternoon.

While we were talking R kept trying to interrupt and then T stopped her and said, “Hold on! Mommy” and here she pointed at me “is trying to talk to Daddy.” And she pointed at herself. E has been downgraded to “extra” or “third wheel” if he prefers. R didn’t get the joke, but we had a good laugh and then continued talking without letting her say anything.

We mentioned how annoying our mother-in-law is (she was here this morning but I’m too exhausted to relive that experience) and then how I had just been on the phone with my mom for a good hour in intense debate (not argument, no one was mad) and then T looked shocked and apologetic.

“You’ve had three mothers to deal with today! And {horrible child}! Wow.”

“Yeah, it’s been a long day.”

And then we had to stop talking because it was already bedtime and we were holding everybody up. She took the baby and we herded the boys upstairs to find R already naked in the dry, empty bathtub, waiting and waiting for the adults to get it together.

She’s really proven herself today, so I’m thinking it’s time for me to pass on some responsibilities and just relax for a while. Let the five year old with all the energy handle things.

Awesome.

An awesome thing just happened.

I don’t mean awesome like how I use it most of the time; I mean it really.

Awesome.

But first my day started out the other kind of awesome, the one that means cool. I heard my alarm and got up and ready for church on time. Nothing flooded before or after church. My bus ride was both pleasant and uneventful. I got to hear the wonderful preaching of an elder I had not previously heard preach. My delightful friend Taryn offered me a ride home afterward.

It was all awesome; cool, great, pleasant.

Then I waited like two hours for Ashley to navigate her way through the treacherous city by car and make it to Great Neck. I was starving’ like Marvin so I took her and her two travel companions to Wild Ginger, a place I have taken others in the past.

While she mocked me for being old I gloated over a glass of wine.

Young people.

We went on a little adventure into the city and I finally got to the High Line Park, a little gem elevated on the edge of the West side. It’s a stretch of old railroad that has been converted into a boardwalk-type park. There are some food vendors, although the advertised bakery was missing. And there are a lot of scenic views and gardens and sitting areas.

We had to go find our own bakery since there wasn’t one and advertising had us wanting cake. We found a good one not too far away and had some wonderfully perfect cake and cupcakes.

Back on the High Line after dark, we sat around talking until it was time to go back. The three of them are on a road trip that is making me green with envy.

Whatever; I got home first.

And right before that is when something really awesome happened.

I probably wouldn’t have even written tonight if this hadn’t happened. I walked with Ashley and the others back to their car, parked in a shopping center near the train station to retrieve some stuff I hadn’t wanted to carry around all night. Then I left them to go get a cab because their car was literally STUFFED with their crap.

I called a cab and then stood there being bored. Another lady was waiting ahead of me so as the first car pulled up and she got in, I just stood there hopelessly annoyed because I hate waiting for cabs.

So, so much.

And then this woman comes walking over from the shopping center. She looked like she was about forty months pregnant and she was on the verge of tears when she talked to me. She wasn’t horribly young and she said her husband was with her and she pointed to the car across the street where he waited. Their car had broken down, they were from out of town, they had a hotel in Mineola and the cop who had come when they called was offering no help at all.

She had called a cab but she couldn’t pay for it.

I could see the cop with his back turned, trying to pretend he wasn’t there.

All she wanted was cab fare and she was pulling out her ID to give me her information so I could track her down and get paid back.

I got so excited!

I started this blog after I moved here, so I don’t know if I ever covered this here and I’m sure not going to go look, but,

The day I came up here for my job interview I lost my Amtrak ticket to go home. Amtrak has horrible policies and worse customer service, so there I was, stranded in Penn Station with no idea what to do next.

On the verge of tears, I stood in the line at customer service and listened to the girl in front of me panicking about being in the same situation. Before I could even plead my case, the two ladies working the desk there were shaking their heads and telling this other girl they couldn’t help her.

An old man standing off to the side stepped in and gave her money for a hotel and told the ladies to help her find a ticket for the next day. Then he gave me money for my ticket and told them to find me a last minute seat on the last train headed my way that night. It was in fifteen minutes, so while I asked a few times for an address to send back the $50 he said no, and told me to pay it forward.

I was kind of crying when I thanked him and ran to my train.

I haven’t ever seen him in there again, and I’ve checked.

So here was this pregnant woman, in tears, asking for cab fare to Mineola and probably very confused as to why my whole face lit up as I opened my wallet.

I got to pay it forward in the most literal way possible.

She insisted I contact her to get paid back, so I quickly told her I had been in her shoes, only not pregnant, and that I was instructed to pay it forward and that’s all I wanted her to do.

She thanked me like ten times and then her cab drove by so she had to run-waddle back to her husband and I did a little happy dance.

And then I realized that my cab had never come.

I paced a for a few minutes and then called the cab company again and did my best to sound patient and understanding even though I loathe waiting.

So, so much.

Eventually, a car did come and I made it home to tell you this awesome story.

I love, love, love what that man did for me and I can’t believe how nice it feels to be able to actually pay it forward. I hope that lady keeps the cycle going, but never knowing has a sort of awesomeness to it, too.
God doesn’t tell us to do unto others only if you find out that they are doing it, too. He just says to do it, do as you would have done to you. I would have someone help me when I am stuck in Penn Station, the worst place on earth besides Port Authority. So “paying it forward” is the best way to “do unto others.”

What a neat way to learn that lesson. I know that anyone who is really in a tight spot like that never forgets the act of kindness that gets them out. I know I never will forget that man and so many other people who got me through my transition here.

And I know God will use my tiny little act of Christ-imitation to His glory.

And that is awesome.

Not all that kosher.

Last night was a good one. We hosted a small Shabbat gathering here after a whole long day of doing whatever we wanted.

We all, everybody, even Monkey, woke up late and had a leisurely breakfast and then T went to work and I turned on the lawn sprinklers and we all got in bathing suits and spent the morning on the front lawn being ridiculous.

Right when Monkey started to cause problems and whine Mom E showed up and whisked him away, but not before trying to hold the baby and making him cry. *Snicker snicker*

The rest of us had a picnic while the muddy lawn dried out and then Monkey came home and napped.
We waited in the sprinklers for him to wake up, brought him out with us and then T came home to mind the baby while we took off for the pool.

By dinner time we were all sun burnt and tired and huuuuuuungry.

T had cooked up Shabbat dinner so I served the kids in the play room and then stuffed myself with T’s mom’s guacamole, the best guacamole ever concocted. She also brought a barley tomato salad that was amazing and her famous green salad, also amazing. I was full before dinner was even served.

Only T’s parents came over but they brought wine and liquor so while the men hit the hard stuff, T and I set to work on the merlot.

It was such a nice evening.

I was too hyper to go to bed after all the kids were down so I washed 3,000 dishes and read half of a book.

This morning we treated ourselves to another late breakfast, but we did have plans for today. It wasn’t going to be such a do-whatever-you-want kind of day. We had responsibilities. Some of us had to work.

We got to the pool party right on time and all the adults were super excited.

This party was being thrown by a cousin of E’s, a branch of the family that has gone astray and doesn’t keep kosher or up with the Joneses. They had a big house but it was comfortable and not showy and there was evidence that children lived there and the ceiling was even falling down in one room. It made me happy.
They had a bunch of kids; I didn’t listen to all the details. Judging from what we saw today, I’d say they have put most of their upkeep money into the backyard and I must say, good call.

They had a BEAUTIFUL stone pool and hot tub, a hammock, a swing set, gorgeous gardens with normal flowers that are recognizable and not pretentious, a patio with a retractable cover and a grill.

The screen doors leading into the kitchen were ripped from use and they all stuck from kids abusing them. It was SO nice. All the people were so nice and none of E’s other family members had been invited. I even heard another woman giggling a little bit when T said the baby cries whenever Mom E picks him up.

It was perfect.

The only food they had out were potato chips and Doritos and then later hot dogs and hamburgers. They skipped the $300 worth of Persian food and kosher bagels that nobody eats. They didn’t even order standby pizza. Since I moved here, every party we have ever gone to had standby pizza.

Naturally, since there were no other options, I threw caution to the wind and ate a cheeseburger. And a hotdog with sauerkraut. I guess it had been long enough that I didn’t suffer any heartburn, so it was an all around awesome day.

The kids played in the pool all day and then toward the end of the party instead of some $25 per kid “goody bag” (R once brought home a personalized chef hat and apron set from a birthday party of fifteen girls) the mother of the birthday girl had her older kids hide candy all through the wooded front yard and they sent everyone out to collect their own treats.

During our drive home, which was about an hour, the adults in the car started talking.

I’m telling you this, not only because the conversation was interesting, but because we don’t usually get to have a conversation in the car without the kids ruining everything. They were all too tired to speak so they shut up and we could hear ourselves think.

E and T have both been trying to squeeze information out of me ever since this Nanny K business blew up. Not about her, but about me. They want to make sure I won’t fall apart like that and abandon them. T said today that she would like to clone me. I said, sorry, no, unless they pay both of us, and I didn’t really give an answer as to plans for staying. T is hoping for three years, possibly four or five, if I let her, and E said a flat ten.

I have been trying my best to assure them I won’t leave in the same fashion as Nanny K. I have never left on bad terms from any job except one and that was the photo studio, the most stressful, thankless job I have ever had.

I’ve never run from a family I’ve worked with and I have no intentions of just up and running one day.
That being said, I think ten years is a bit much.

Then in the car while we were talking about all this, T said, “Ten years? Ten years, E? What if she wants to get married or just go have a life?”

I laughed because the two are as different in her mind as in mine. I also laughed because E started sweating at the thought of me running off to get married in less than ten years. He’s dreading R’s teenage years like you won’t believe.

All of this led into my promising I wouldn’t elope and then talk of the differences between men and women. E whined that everyone is mean to him, so T got on the iPhone and asked Siri how to make her husband happy.

Siri pulled up a lovely list of 100 things to do for your husband to keep him happy.

It was a lengthy list but it had some good ones. It also had some horribly, terribly laughable ones that drew a lot of discussion. It was to those that E was nodding along with most adamantly. Of course.

When T started suspecting this list was written by a man, and a single one at that, E shook his head.

“No, it was written by a smart woman.”

“If number 100 is ‘make him a sandwich’ it was written by a man.” I said.

While meals never came up, foot rubs did and that settled it.

By the time we got home, we had laughed off the 900 calories of red meat we had eaten that afternoon. We force fed the kids some leftovers and put them to bed.

Monkey hadn’t napped today, so he went right down. The other two were bouncing around their room, shrieking and laughing for a good fifteen minutes after E left them.

I waited to see if he had the mind power to go back up and when it was clear he didn’t, I volunteered to give it a shot.

I went up for five minutes and left a totally silent room in my wake.

When I got downstairs, both parents were jaw-dropped on the couch.

“Bribery.” I explained. “Pure, unadulterated bribery.”

Nods, smiles, relief.

Cue baby tantrum.

He cried until T took him for a walk outside and then finally, when he was asleep, they snuck out for a dinner alone, one of the suggestions on the list of husband-happiness boosters.

And I read another quarter of my book.

See how hard it’s been around here?

And I get paid for this. No joke.
　
　
　
　
　
　

I almost forgot!

This has become my catch phrase, I know this because Monkey says it all the time and when he does, I can hear myself. We go out sometimes and he'll jump forward in the stroller and go, "I almost forgot my sunglasses!"

And it has been the theme of my week; forgetting the date, what I'm doing and that there are loads of laundry in the dryer.

But even still I can't believe I almost forgot the meteor shower!

It peaked on Sunday/Monday and I had reminders in my phone and everything. So much for that. But it just dawned on me right now while we're all sitting here.

The boys had their last day of camp today and then we went to the pool. To celebrate being done with camp, T is letting the kids stay up as long as they want to. As a result they are bothering me while I am trying to watch Shark Week, but good thing, because the resulting conversation is what prompted my brain into action.

We just got all the kids and E to go out and look at the night sky and everybody saw a meteor. Even though the peak is over, there are still several "shooting stars" visible tonight so we spent a good ten minutes on a blanket in the driveway. It was a first for these New Yorkers. Good thing they have me.

Poor Monkey is so cute and clueless and just laid there with his 3D glasses on yelling, "I see one! See what? What I see Kimmy? I see one!"

I spent this morning with R, making lasagnas for dinner tonight and then she wanted to make dessert too so we made some chocolate candies.

We've actually been together all week because her camp ended before the boys and she refused to go on any play dates, to any dance classes, gymnastics classes, anything. She opted to stay home and nag me instead.

She said this was the first day this week that she wasn't bored. She's been driving me batty out of her boredom so I am quite grateful that camp is over because she needs the boys. Tomorrow, we're going to make a day out of waking late and eating chocolate chips in as many things as we can think of and going to the park and the pool. I can't wait.

T's going to have to make frequent stops back home from work because the baby has ceased taking a bottle. Yesterday in four hours he ate almost two ounces. Today in six hours he ate one ounce. One. He doesn't cry though. He starts to at mealtime and then when he is presented with a formula bottle he drinks an ounce and then gags and then screams until I take the bottle away. And then he's fine.

Then he smiles and plays and rolls around the play pen like it's the greatest day ever.

So then we tried to give him bottle breast milk.

No go.

He drank slightly more of that than the formula and then looked at me and laughed like, "Are you kidding me? Is this a joke? First you give me that fake crap and then you try to deny me my right to the boob with this reheated nonsense? Get me a real boob or put me back in the play pen so I can suck on my toe."

I put him back in the play pen. And T caved and began planning work around him.

So, that was this week. And next week they're all off from everything and home. We're going to do some intensive potty training with Monkey and J has soccer now. R will stay home and bother me, I'm sure. And I think Baby D will be crawling by then. He's already mastered scooting himself across the bedroom floor. Another month or two and he'll be driving and he can take us all out every day until I get my license.

Now.

Where was I?

Oh yes.

Shark time!

Jaws!

It's Shark Week, a very important holiday in American culture, so I am in a good mood. It's good for the kids because they're wild and horrible and if it wasn't Shark Week I would have sold them all on eBay this afternoon. Local pickup. No hold price.

The last few weeks have been gloriously floodless.

We have had several hefty thunderstorms with good amounts of water and nothing has come inside. Last week the temperature went up, way up, into the high thousands I think, and we straightened out all our air conditioner problems in time for them. T also invested in a 300 pack of ice pops so we just walk around eating those and take turns sitting under the various ceiling fans in the house.

We've had a lot of fun around here lately, stemming from a lot of conversations and hanging out time between T and me. Because of the broken AC systems, we spent a few long afternoons together because it was too hot to do anything else.

And on the tail of that and the flooding and Monkey's never ending diaper rash and utter refusal to potty train, Nanny K put in her notice with her family. She has sufficiently driven T's mom to her breaking point and she showed up here with new shoes for me the day after everything went down.

Then she sat here and worried at the top of her lungs in Farsi while T yelled back at her to calm down and I giggled quietly because I could understand so much of what she was shrieking and it amused me.

In addition to our nanny-mother bonding over that, my employers seem to really be stressing over the sale of the townhouse they own and remodeled in Manhattan. I've told you about their big fancy-pants mansion for sale, but it has been E's project for six years and he's having trouble letting it go. He's holding out for an offer that doesn't exist in this economy and it's causing a lot of strain on them in various ways.

T is getting frustrated and I don't blame her. She's supporting this family right now. On top of that, she struggles with her faith. It has come up from time to time the entire year I've been here, but lately I feel like she really questions what she should do and believe.

We battled for the winning piece of a wishbone the other night and when I won, she said it was because I was a better religious person (she actually said Jewish person first and then corrected herself) than she was and so God favored me. I was kind of caught off guard, since we all know that's not true, and I told her we were equally sinners but that I was clinging to my faith and confidence in God's saving grace. She said she needs to pray but she doesn't really know how to outside of temple. We talked a little bit then and we've had some other interactions like that, but I am so greatly encouraged that there are openings for it here. I honestly didn't think that was even going to be an option when I came here.

I remember thinking, great, I can't witness here, and I just assumed that God placed me here to witness to someone else. I'm so glad He's smarter than I am. And I'm so glad that he can reach anyone, can save anyone, even a family in the middle of Jewish Great Neck, even me.

Tis amazing.

Among other amazing feelings and experiences here lately (I mean aside from Shark Week and new insight into the power of an Almighty God) I have had the pleasure of finding the perfect foot cream for summer heels, discovering the guilty pleasure of frozen bananas stuck all over with chocolate chips, and finishing several books I had been reading for quite some time.

Not to make it all sound like rainbows and sunshine over here, but it kind of is. The kids have been wild and of course they get into trouble; they're kids. And I mentioned how Monkey REFUSES to potty train, but we're all generally happy with each other and I keep getting compliments on how the kids have grown and improved since I started here so it's hard for their bad moments to get me down.

Sometimes, in the middle of my yelling at him, Monkey drops his face down and grabs onto my leg and goes, "Kimmy, I love you." And while I'm sure it's because he wants me to stop yelling and he thinks he can soften me like his fool grandmothers, it's still nice to know that these kids are responding to me more and more each day. It's a good feeling when your boss tells you you're Supermom and she wants her kids to learn from you. And it's a weird feeling when she tells you she thinks Monkey is starting to look like you. Yeah.

That's odd.

But he has adopted ALL of my mannerisms and I taught him to shake his finger and yell at people in a ridiculous voice when they tell you something you don't want to hear.

Also, he loves Shark Week.