MY URBAN KVETCH

Using Social Media to Stalk Your Kids

It's funny because it's true. And what's even funnier is that I was sent the link to this video by my parents. Gotta love the Onion - this broadcast is pitch perfect, capturing the super-sunny morning vibe of the AM talk show, complete with chipper hosts and manufactured banter between them and the expert. Seriously: remember, I've been there myself.
Facebook, Twitter Revolutionizing How Parents Stalk Their College-Aged Kids

"The Letter E": The Nephew Speaks

Curtain up on a bedroom in suburban New Jersey. A giant "e" decorates the room, which belongs to someone with that letter as a first initial. A writer sits at a computer; a four-year-old nephew enters the room.

Nephew: "Doda Esther, why do you have that letter?"

Doda: "Well, Gilly, it's a letter E - do you know whose name starts with a letter E?"

Nephew: "Doda Esther!"

Doda: "That's right!"

Nephew: "But why don't you have a D?"

Doda: "You're right, I should have a D also."

Nephew: "And why not an O?"

Doda: "That's right, there's an O in Doda."

Nephew: "And why not a refrigerator?" (Pauses. Then bursts into a fit of giggling. Then recovers.) "Look, I'm a shark! Chomp, chomp, chomp..."

The writer is at a loss. So she grabs the nephew and starts tickling him.

The end...for now.

For some reason, I felt like this video clip was an appropriate complement. Enjoy.

Happy Purim, from the Kustanowitz Family (and also PLP)

I had hoped to be able to share with you today my first piece of political humor, which I had been asked to do for a major Jewish newspaper. (It would have been nice for them to include it, if only because most of the other writers are men.) But for some reason, that piece was cut from the print edition. It might yet appear in the online edition, but so far it has not. If it doesn't appear by tomorrow, I'll post it here. And in the meantime, I'm going to imbibe until I don't know the difference between print publishing and online publishing. You know. Because of Purim.

But in place of that article, I'm pleased to present this year's Kustanowitz Kronikle, which focuses on new kashrut regulations surrounding fruits and vegetables. (Take that, Agriprocessors!) If you like it, join the Kustanowitz Kronikle Facebook fan page, and as always you can find back-issues - from Purims and Rosh Hashanahs past - and various other remnants of my past (makeovers! talking about Rosh Hashanah! my mother's book!) at www.kustanowitz.com.

And now, your scrolling bonus: a video that was done by some of my friends over at Professional Leaders Project (PLP). Enjoy the madcap adventures of Gordon, Maital, Scott, Shauna, Rhoda and the other members of the PLP as they engage in a little Purim Torah.

Little Julia, Jewel, Jewlia, the Jewel in Our Crown(stanowitz)

Her name is Julia. Julia Deborah Kustanowitz. She's named after her parents' grandmothers, one on each side.

And yes, I believe that's a lot of hair for a newborn.

Must be from the non-Kustanowitz side.

I can't wait to meet her!

In Honor of My Niece

That's right...as Buckwheat might have sung, I'm "unce, tice, fee times a doda."

Since I was unable to be there to meet her in person during her first week of life, I'm thinking of her lots and of my baby brother and former Ramah camper of a sister-in-law who just became an Aba and an Ema. The first Kustanowitz girl in more than three decades, she's got her work cut out for her.

She'll be named next week. Her coloring and features remind me of my sister-in-law, but I think this picture proves without a doubt that she's related to the Kustanowitz side.

In honor of my niece, and of all nieces and nephews and the aunts and uncles who have the treat of loving them without having to discipline them (much), check out my friend Melanie's site, SavvyAuntie.com.

Welcome to the world, little girl!

Shabbat shalom from Jerusalem.

Political Leanings Are All Relative: Especially When You're the Pitt-Jolies

You know how awkward discussing politics with family members can be: people are passionate about their candidates, the issues divide families, sometimes right down the middle. But this election just got a whole lot more interesting to the "Us" magazine crowd. Celebrities and politicans are just like us! If we are related to the major political players, that is.

According to researchers at the New England Historic Genealogical Society, Obama is related to Brad Pitt, and Hillary Clinton is related to Angelina Jolie. Not in a "see you at the family reunion!" kind of way, but in the "I can't believe they're on the family tree" kind of way. The celebrities are waaaaay distant cousins of the candidates (9th cousins in both cases, twice removed for Clinton/Jolie), so don't look for either Pitt or Jolie to play the political family card.

But the relating doesn't end there. According to the article, HRC (of French-Canadian descent on her mother's side), is also a distant cousin of Madonna, Celine "My Family Tree Will Go On" Dion and--isn't it ironic? don't you think?--Alannis Morissette. Obama's family is the most politically-oriented: he is related to six U.S. presidents, including George W. Bush. And, winning the title for the least sexy celebrity political distant relation, McCain is a sixth cousin of Laura Bush.

Which makes me wonder....who am I related to? Anna Paquin? (That would explain this appearance in Bangitout's Rave Reviews section, which assigns celebrity photos and fake quotes to "Upper West Side Celebrity look-alikes"--how many of them do you know?)

There's Funny in My Family

To answer the clamor of those who find this blog by searching for "Simmy Kay," here's my brother's demo reel. Enjoy!

Celebrate Israel, or Nephew?

For the last month or so, I've been looking forward to my nephew Gil's first birthday. I was going to travel to MD to see him frolicking and giggling like the crazy, hilarious little person he is, and there would be much rejoicing. And then I found out the proposed date was the same as the Salute to Israel parade.

Which to choose? Supporting Israel and meandering through a crowd of Jews on Fifth Avenue (and potentially doing a return appearance on ParadeTV)? Or celebrating with my nephew and family?

As my Biblical forebears did, I turned my hands up to heaven and asked for a sign.

Going through the list of names for ROI120 staff members, I came across someone named Gil.

At the Bangitout Lager Ba'omer party, I was approached by one guy--his name...Gil.

I got travel info from birthright, which informed me that the trip was being coordinated by Gil Travel.

OK, OK. I get it. Like I really needed convincing, anyway. I'll be in Israel with many-a-parading-Jew soon enough...

Gil...see you soon, buddy!

What to Expect When Your Friends Are Expecting...

Welcome to the world of Doda Esther, now encapsulated in this convenient Jewish Week article...

All in all, I'm pretty happy with this article, which is not one of my regular columns...it will appear in the annual Directions guide that the Jewish Week publishes at the end of every December. This year's theme was Parenting. (No, I haven't been hiding my secret children from you, but that doesn't mean I don't have an opinion. Apparently.)

[...] Increasingly, I found myself a visitor in a strange world. A single, female Gulliver in Lilliput, I was surrounded by diminutive, tactless humans, each of whom seemed to redefine the “id” of “kid” — eating, sleeping, crying, pooping, all punctuated by the occasional comment that sometimes crossed the line from cuteness over into insulting. Like the time my honorary niece, who had always loved me, said “Esther, you don’t have a pretty face.” A mean, unsolicited comment about my personal appearance that was utterly without context? What was this, JDate?

Even my vocabulary, my superpower if ever I had one, was of no use here. Words were just different here — for the first year or so, it all seemed like gibberish. Farberizing. Lactation consultant. Exersaucer. Bjorn. Poop journal. By Gymini, this had become Bizarro-world. I knew the law of the jungle: adapt or die. So I added words and phrases to my repertoire, tried to steel myself against the inevitable “unplugged” comments from the little rascals, and mastered a rudimentary mimicry of Elmo. I even endured multiple showings of 'Baby Einstein' — above and beyond the call of duty for non-related adults. But I had to adapt, because this is a terrain I’m expected to cover one day soon; this expectation is clear to every single Jewess, especially as she heads into her 30s. [...]

I also mention the extreme reactions that people had to the "Fricken Babies" post on Jewlicious. And the bonus is that the article also has a really cute picture of me and my nephew. OK, so most of the cuteness is him, but you can still tell by the photo that I'm pretty darned happy to be sitting there with him.

Anyway, enjoy...your feedback on the article, and stories about children are, as always, welcome here...

"Sole Searching": Everything Is Illuminated

My new Sole Searching column is up at GenerationJ.com.

Everything is Illuminated
By Esther D. Kustanowitz

When I was growing up, there was no holiday like Hanukkah. Presents, latkes--sure, those were great. But for the kids in my house, the illumination of Hanukkah usually started several weeks early, as our parents began rehearsing their annual Hanukkah show for the synagogue we belonged to.

"Spin the Dreidel, Solly Crown," was a parody of "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown"--my parents kept the original music and arrangements from the Broadway show, but the lyrics were totally new. Every song was tied to the holiday, and the show was transformed into a way to express the joy of Hanukkah against a backdrop of popular American culture references. Some of our friends' parents were also in the show, but many of the rehearsals were at our house. On rehearsal nights, my brothers and I would pretend to go to bed and wait until we heard the piano overture. Then we would climb halfway down the stairs in the dark so none of the adults would know that we were there, and sit in the dark, listening to our parents' voices as they practiced. It wasn't waiting for Godot, or for Santa Claus. It was way better.

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