[Like the "About Miriam" page, this page was written in March of '09 and has yet to be updated. Just add a year to everyone's ages, and delete the two bunny rabbits 
. For more than that, you'll have to read the blog archives.]
For the moment, I won’t be posting pictures of my family, unless they happen to be those types of pictures that don’t really look like the people in the picture. The Boy will be an exception for now. Perhaps this will change; we shall see.
Awesome husband, “G”
Orthodox rabbi, genius, scientist, exceptional, one-of-a-kind world-class human being. And almost bald. See?
Heheh. But the other genes more than make up for it. For one thing, it’s because of him that three of our four kids are blonde. And let’s not forget the yichus; it’s also because of him that ALL of my children are direct descendants of the Monestrisczer Rebbe. Not to mention descendants of one of the best-known (and best) Judaic studies scholars, like, ever. And of course, it’s also because of him that I’m the luckiest woman in the world. G works three jobs and manages a few side-gigs as well, all rabbinic, all requiring talent, and he excels at everything, except possibly laundry and the styling of little girls’ hair. Occasionally he ticks me off, but usually not for long.
Oldest daughter, “RS”
Second grade, super-tall, super-thin, stunningly beautiful (I can say this because she looks nothing like me), super-strong personality, extraordinarly verbal, expressive, in touch with her feelings, and not at all shy about sharing them. Heh. Also super-sensitive, which is both a tremendous gift and an occasional hindrance to her full enjoyment of life. Hysterically funny, with a snide and sarcastic sense of humor that when asked, she will say she got from me. Ahem. Now that’s shocking. Scandalous, even.
Twin daughter, “R”
My only brunette, and therefore proof that I do have a few, itty bitty genetic markers of my very own. First grade, with a contemplative mind rivaled in intensity only by the devilish, anti-establishment, unqualified spontaneity of her personality. Full of life, full of love, full of fun, full of complex philosophical answers as well as questions. Super-sensitive, but usually able to compensate, often by utilizing the most fertile imagination I have ever seen. Stubborn as an ox, and gorgeous beyond description. Sorry, but it’s true.
Twin daughter, “YS”
About as different from her twin, in both looks and personality, as two human beings ever have been. And yet they’re best friends, at least so far. Blonde Shirley Temple curls, blue eyes slowly turning green, taught herself to read when she was four years old, and as of this writing is six years old and in the middle of book 5 of the Chronicles of Narnia (and no, they have not turned her into a Christian) (yet). Loves math and is excellent at it (that would be her father’s genes again), reasons everything out slowly, methodically, and logically, and explains all of her thought processes step by detailed step (that would be a combination of her two grandfathers’ genes). Creative, brilliant, sweet, and adorable, and so easily distractable that one might suspect she’s descended from at least one absent-minded professor. Heh. Oh yes, and swims like a fish, and can climb just about anything. I have no idea whose genes those are.
The Boy
I confess that this nickname was inspired by someone who likewise (for a time) had three girls and one boy. As of this writing, my son is not quite a year old, but since three months old he has exhibited warning signs that he will be a virtual wrecking ball as soon as he’s mobile. So far, he’s learned to drag himself around a bit by pushing on the floor, and let me tell you, I think “wrecking ball” might have been understating it. Is this a difference between boys and girls? Who am I to say. But in this house, definitely yes. Adorable, delicious, and beloved by all, at least until he becomes mobile enough to commence destruction of dollhouses. Let’s hope we all remember to keep the girls’ bedroom closed.
The rodents
Two bunny rabbits, one guinea pig. Available for the taking (please). Just say the word (no, really).
