I need a delete button for this week. Or at least a do-over. I don't know how it happened, but I have managed to lose almost an entire week of my life. There I was enjoying myself last shabbos at a friend's house for lunch and the next thing I knew, I was shivering with chills and a fever after my shabbos nap. It's got to be the flu, with the intensity that it's hit us; but I wouldn't really know because I literally cannot get out of bed and get myself to the doctor to find out. I can only write now sitting up halfway in bed high on my favorite cocktail of 3 Advil, 3 Extra Strength Tylenol and lots and lots of decongestant. BAW has been the lifesaver, once again, admirably balancing work and a household full of sick and well people.
Besides me being sick, B and R were hit really badly, too. B is hopefully on his way back in to school tomorrow after a FULL week of being out. R seems to be doing a little better, but his asthma seems to exacerbate everything. Just yesterday N came down with a whopping case of...whatever this is. I am not totally a delinquent mother; while I was in different states of unconsciousness, BAW did take R and B to the doctor, who told them it is just a virus. Just wondering...do they diagnose anything here, or is it always "just a virus"?
In addition to the flu, every phone call seemed to bring bad news (most of which I can't get into), TPH is super stressed, and one thing after another seemed to go wrong. Then came the phone call today from our landlords: they are selling the apartment and we can't renew our contract for next year. It's not terrible news (I've been saying from day 1 that I can't wait to get out of here) but it's another move, and not on our time, on someone else's.
That's my rant for today. Just a bad week. My friend says I need a chat with the Boss, and should head to the Kotel, which I will do just as soon as I get downstairs without stopping to take a nap along the way.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
A MoG, too
You know by now that I truly relish my role as a Mother of Boys in every respect; the chaos, the rowdiness, the pandemonium that comes with raising the men of the future. I can joke about it, and laugh about it, but that's only because I have a secret weapon, a key that keeps me sane through it all. And that key is my one and only daughter.
She doesn't get the spotlight too much in my blog because, she can use the bathroom (albeit for a ridiculously long amount of time in the morning) and leave it clean. She is also rarely (although not never) featured in the living room pile-ups. But mostly I don't write about her because she once said to me, "What?? Now everything I say goes in your blog?!" So I've tried to protect that pre-teen privacy which is held so dear.
But tonight her and I had a moment. She wasn't aware of the moment, but I sure was.
J was getting ready for her first friend's Bat Mitzva. I've been in bed for almost three days with a flu, but I forced myself upright for the first time in 48 hours to help her blow dry her hair ("It's too poofy! It's too straight! It's not straight enough!"). And as I sat with her for those brief few minutes during her transformation from young school girl to beautiful young lady I was struck with not only her outer beauty and grace but by her inner beauty as well.
Sometimes we get a brief glimpse into the future of what our children will look like as adults, and who they will become. And at that moment I realized that it's not so far in the "future" when our children will become the adults we hope and pray that they will be.
And if we're doing a half decent job, some of them are already most of the way there.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Tu B'shevat
I feel like there hasn't been much going on lately, since we've had some sick kids and now parents. But the truth is that I never filled you in about Tu B'Shvat.
Tu B'shvat is the birthday of the trees. It's when things (for the most part) begin to bloom again here in Israel, and as crazy as it sounds, Tu B'shvat heralds the beginning of Spring. (Winter? What Winter?)
The kids had various ulpan and school activities which were very nice. The boys' party stood out a little more as it was a full 2 hours of program: kids singing, a play, then an "Al Ha'Michya" project, and finally...planting. I didn't make it until the end (or even the middle for that matter) and dashed out with Crazy Red after the first hour. I was there though for the principal's speech, and am more enamored with him every time he speaks. How can you NOT love someone who refers to our children as "tzadikim k'tanim" (little righteous ones) or "n'shamot tehorot" (holy souls)?
The walk home from that program was beautiful; the sun is shining again, the birds are chirping, it was a gorgeous day. I decided to stop off at R's Gan to see if they had left for their Tu B'shvat tiyul yet, and made it just in time to walk with them to the mountain where they were going on a hike to "find" trees, and do some planting. The whole time I was with them they were singing "Tu B'shvat heegiyah".
For years I taught American kids about Tu B'shvat, but it's really hard to get them to internalize the fact that in some parts of the world, it is actually warm and bright and sunny, and things are beginning to grow anew. It was so nice this year to actually be here where it's all happening.
So, while the kids say they miss the snow, I don't. Nor do I miss the boots, coats, hats and gloves taking over my house. Or the slush and mud everywhere once the snow starts. I don't miss shoveling out on the freezing old mornings before the sun was even up, or the ice in the driveway and on the street. Or...my favorite: fighting with the kids and BAW to take out the garbage. Maybe I don't miss that cuz we still fight about that, but hey, some things gotta stay the same, right?
Tu B'shvat is the birthday of the trees. It's when things (for the most part) begin to bloom again here in Israel, and as crazy as it sounds, Tu B'shvat heralds the beginning of Spring. (Winter? What Winter?)
The kids had various ulpan and school activities which were very nice. The boys' party stood out a little more as it was a full 2 hours of program: kids singing, a play, then an "Al Ha'Michya" project, and finally...planting. I didn't make it until the end (or even the middle for that matter) and dashed out with Crazy Red after the first hour. I was there though for the principal's speech, and am more enamored with him every time he speaks. How can you NOT love someone who refers to our children as "tzadikim k'tanim" (little righteous ones) or "n'shamot tehorot" (holy souls)?
The walk home from that program was beautiful; the sun is shining again, the birds are chirping, it was a gorgeous day. I decided to stop off at R's Gan to see if they had left for their Tu B'shvat tiyul yet, and made it just in time to walk with them to the mountain where they were going on a hike to "find" trees, and do some planting. The whole time I was with them they were singing "Tu B'shvat heegiyah".
For years I taught American kids about Tu B'shvat, but it's really hard to get them to internalize the fact that in some parts of the world, it is actually warm and bright and sunny, and things are beginning to grow anew. It was so nice this year to actually be here where it's all happening.
So, while the kids say they miss the snow, I don't. Nor do I miss the boots, coats, hats and gloves taking over my house. Or the slush and mud everywhere once the snow starts. I don't miss shoveling out on the freezing old mornings before the sun was even up, or the ice in the driveway and on the street. Or...my favorite: fighting with the kids and BAW to take out the garbage. Maybe I don't miss that cuz we still fight about that, but hey, some things gotta stay the same, right?
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Tiny-tinny-itus
tin·ni·tus
Function: n
: a sensation of noise (as a ringing or roaring) that is caused by abodily condition (as a disturbance of the auditory nerve or wax inthe ear) and typically is of the subjective form which can only beheard by the one affected
We were sitting at the dinner table...who am I kidding? Let's start again.
It was Hell time. AKA: Dinner. And as some of you know from FB unless N is being babysat by Deigo, Dora, Elmo or Sid, it's a disaster. Tonight I was decidedly stubborn and insisted that he stay and sit with us (WHY? Dummy. That's why.) He single handedly destroys the calm dinner scene I always have in my head by yelling, screaming and throwing things off the table the entire time if things don't go his way. He's spoiled beyond belief, and he's in the full throes of the terrible twos and is, well...terrible.
Tonight I decided that letting him watch DVDs during dinner was dysfunctional (and the ensuing drama was not??) and stuck to my guns. He proceeded to sit next to me and scream in a very high pitch for 15 min. straight while I completely "ignored" him. Why the fit? He had seen me stash my iPhone before dinner and was now screaming for that...another screen.
He threw his plate, his bottle, and his passy all overboard, screaming all the while, as I pretended not to be the least bit ruffled. Really I was moments from a severe psychotic break. "Disturbance of the auditory nerve", indeed.
We yelled over him to "PASS THE WATER!!" and "THIS IS GREAT ABBA, THANK YOU!" and even tried, "HOW WAS YOUR DAY????"
As soon as the other kids could escape, they did. And as they did, he slowly began to wind down. He concentrated on his salad, and was eventually quiet. BAW was mumbling something about needing more than a stiff drink. That's when the ringing in my right ear started: a loud high pitched single constant tone in my ear, while the rest of my ear seemed to be clogged.
BAW assured me that many Rock "greats" suffered from the same affliction, and gave me words of encouragement by saying that Jimi Hendrix only suffered from Tinnitus for TEN YEARS. Sheesh.
Well, my current predicament at least got me out of bedtime (too bad that baths were last night) since whenever BAW or the big kids would try and talk to me I would either not hear them or would loudly yell, "WHAT??" much to their amusement.
It's a few hours later, and the ringing has finally stopped and now my ear is just deadened to all other noises.
Which may not necessarily be a bad thing.
Mazel Tov SM and EM!
We get a Mazel Tov! My brother "SM" got engaged to an amazing, sweet, beautiful and wonderfully kind and sensitive girl, with great priorities. (Did I miss anything? What more could there possibly be? She really is an amazing chickita!)
And as happy and excited as we are for the couple, it's hard to be so far away. BH we at least know her, so that makes it much easier. IY"H some of us will make it for the wedding, but so begins the next string of smachot that we'll be absent for :(. Needless to say, the past day or two I've been feeling kind of distant.
Then Hashem sent me something to make me smile tonight, a reminder . BAW was saying Shema and doing the bedtime rituals when he urgently called me upstairs. I dropped everything and ran up, worried. He was laying in bed with S and R and told me to listen to S sing his daily davening. S started again for me in a sweet 6 year old sing-song:
And as happy and excited as we are for the couple, it's hard to be so far away. BH we at least know her, so that makes it much easier. IY"H some of us will make it for the wedding, but so begins the next string of smachot that we'll be absent for :(. Needless to say, the past day or two I've been feeling kind of distant.
Then Hashem sent me something to make me smile tonight, a reminder . BAW was saying Shema and doing the bedtime rituals when he urgently called me upstairs. I dropped everything and ran up, worried. He was laying in bed with S and R and told me to listen to S sing his daily davening. S started again for me in a sweet 6 year old sing-song:
משיב הרוח ומוריד הגשם, ותן טל ומטר לברכה על פני האדמה. אבינו מלכנו שלח רפואה שלמה לכל חולי עמך ישראל. והחולה שירה בת מעיין. והחזר את חיילי צה''ל (צבא הגנה לישראל) הביתה בשלום. ואת החיל החטוף גלעד בן אביבה שליט
שיר המעלות אשא עיני מעין יבוא עזרי
"Mashiv HaRuach U'Morid Ha'geshem, v'tein tal u'matar l'vracha al pnei ha'adama. Avinu malkeinu shlach refuah shelaima l'chol amcha yisrael, v'lichol cholei amcha yisrael, v'hachola Shira batMaayan. V'hachzeir et chayalei tzahal hganah l'yisrael habayta b'shalom, v'et chayal hachatuf Gilad ben Aviva Shalit.
Shir Hamalot Esa einay...."
"Make the wind blow and the rain fall, and give dew as a blessing on the whole ground. Our Father, our King, send a full recovery to all of the sick of Am Yisrael, and to the girl Shira Bat Maayan. And return the soldiers of Israel to their homes in peace, as well as the soldier Gilad ben Aviva Shalit.
Shir Ha'Maalot...."
How beautiful is that? These 6 year old boys are davening every day for the return of Gilad Shalit. I don't know who the "cholah" is, and would love to hear if anyone knows who she is. I did a search but didn't come up with much.
So while it doesn't make me miss my family and the current simcha any less, it's just another gentle reminder that we are here, and it is good.
It is very, very good.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Picking Up the Pieces
Every week we get closer to putting our lives back together after Aliyah. It's a slow process, but every day we get just a little bit more organized, a little bit more comfortable, a little bit more settled. And for us, you know what that means.
Today we picked out our new dog.
Those of you who know us, know that when we moved to Israel 6 months ago, one of the hardest parts of the move was giving up our 2 dogs.
Lots of you have told me you just don't understand having a dog in the house; the mess, the smell, the noise, the work. And I'll agree with you on all of those. It's messy, it can be smelly, it's noisy and it's a lot of work. There have been times I've lost it with my previous dogs; think chewed up brand new cell phone, or pulling all the phone/internet cables out of the wall and chewing on them until they were destroyed, or running away the night I gave birth to N. While Eli ran through the streets of R trying to track down Dog #2, I was in the hospital waiting up all night bawling like a baby. The nurses thought I was another crazy lady who just had her 6th kid and was breaking under the pressure (hmm...maybe I was).
I can't really explain why I like dogs and most pet owners hate to have to defend their position on animals. I don't really need to tell you why I love the companionship, or the clicking sound of nails on the floor, or the rush of a greeting every time you come home. I even like dog smell. Ok, not wet dog smell, but clean dog smell.
I spent waaay too many times to count this week and the last ferrying different kids back and forth to the pound in Rechovot. It's 30 min. door to door, but it was a lot of driving to go and come back, only to have to go again the next day. And let me tell you, the pound (like everything here) is organized chaos to the hilt. We're talking hundreds of dogs running, barking, jumping. Mud, dirt, and worse everywhere. Now to give the staff credit, they are very on top of things. The dogs are very much loved and cared for, but I don't care if they lived in a palace, 250 dogs would be chaos.
So, how to pick, how to pick? By now we are dog experts. This will be the 6th dog we've had (not counting others we've dog-sat here and there). I knew pretty much exactly what I was looking for at this point.
1. Medium size (we just don't have the room for the German Shepherd I had to tear B off of, and we just are not a "little dog" family)
2. Short haired (we have some extended family with allergies)
3. Great with kids (Obv)
4. Not a big barker, but maybe enough of a barker to scare away thecollectors, thieves.
5. And after much deliberation...yes, a puppy. I know, I know...it's a lot of work. YES it is! But there is something to be said when the dog grows with the family. I originally was considering several dogs that were between a year and two years, but it was clear that they already had their personalities. When you get a puppy, you can shape a lot of who they become. But I digress...these were my criteria.
So after many trips out there, we finally settled on one. She needs shots and a check up, so we'll have to go again to get her in a week or two. The funniest part of all is that she looks just like Dog #1 that we had to leave behind. That we got 7 years ago. From the pound. In Rechovot.....
Today we picked out our new dog.
Those of you who know us, know that when we moved to Israel 6 months ago, one of the hardest parts of the move was giving up our 2 dogs.
Lots of you have told me you just don't understand having a dog in the house; the mess, the smell, the noise, the work. And I'll agree with you on all of those. It's messy, it can be smelly, it's noisy and it's a lot of work. There have been times I've lost it with my previous dogs; think chewed up brand new cell phone, or pulling all the phone/internet cables out of the wall and chewing on them until they were destroyed, or running away the night I gave birth to N. While Eli ran through the streets of R trying to track down Dog #2, I was in the hospital waiting up all night bawling like a baby. The nurses thought I was another crazy lady who just had her 6th kid and was breaking under the pressure (hmm...maybe I was).
I can't really explain why I like dogs and most pet owners hate to have to defend their position on animals. I don't really need to tell you why I love the companionship, or the clicking sound of nails on the floor, or the rush of a greeting every time you come home. I even like dog smell. Ok, not wet dog smell, but clean dog smell.
I spent waaay too many times to count this week and the last ferrying different kids back and forth to the pound in Rechovot. It's 30 min. door to door, but it was a lot of driving to go and come back, only to have to go again the next day. And let me tell you, the pound (like everything here) is organized chaos to the hilt. We're talking hundreds of dogs running, barking, jumping. Mud, dirt, and worse everywhere. Now to give the staff credit, they are very on top of things. The dogs are very much loved and cared for, but I don't care if they lived in a palace, 250 dogs would be chaos.
So, how to pick, how to pick? By now we are dog experts. This will be the 6th dog we've had (not counting others we've dog-sat here and there). I knew pretty much exactly what I was looking for at this point.
1. Medium size (we just don't have the room for the German Shepherd I had to tear B off of, and we just are not a "little dog" family)
2. Short haired (we have some extended family with allergies)
3. Great with kids (Obv)
4. Not a big barker, but maybe enough of a barker to scare away the
5. And after much deliberation...yes, a puppy. I know, I know...it's a lot of work. YES it is! But there is something to be said when the dog grows with the family. I originally was considering several dogs that were between a year and two years, but it was clear that they already had their personalities. When you get a puppy, you can shape a lot of who they become. But I digress...these were my criteria.
So after many trips out there, we finally settled on one. She needs shots and a check up, so we'll have to go again to get her in a week or two. The funniest part of all is that she looks just like Dog #1 that we had to leave behind. That we got 7 years ago. From the pound. In Rechovot.....
Sunday, January 9, 2011
A Quilt
I can't help it, but I have to post again.
My mouth is agape at a beautiful quilt that my FB friend has sewn and shared pictures of. It's stunning, really. The seams are perfect, the edging is flawless and the fabric is beautiful.
I sigh wistfully as I click through her pictures. And several thoughts go through my mind.
1. She finished a quilt today. I threw away a perfectly good shower curtain because it had, well, poop on it.
2. Her quilt is laid beautifully across the floor. My floor may just have poop on it.
3. She lovingly has a family heirloom to pass down to her children one day and her grandchildren may very well fondly come to think of it as "Bubby's/Savta's/Grandma's Quilt." Me? Does an old t-shirt we bought at the Playmobil museum in Florida count as an heirloom? No, that most decidedly does not have poop on it. Probably.
FB is dangerous. It makes us see what others have, and immediately our minds go to what we are missing. You have to be a strong one to surf FB and not be jealous or intimidated by other mothers who obviously (according to their chipper Status Lines) "Did all the laundry, washed the floors (with a toothbrush!), went to the gym, did all the homework with their kids, and lost 5 lbs! And it's only 9am!"
I am content in my roll of MOBs, really! It's just that sometimes I sigh and dream of being a MOGs. Just for a few minutes. Where one can go into the bathroom and actually use the bathroom without having to clean it first.
A girl can dream, can't she?
My mouth is agape at a beautiful quilt that my FB friend has sewn and shared pictures of. It's stunning, really. The seams are perfect, the edging is flawless and the fabric is beautiful.
I sigh wistfully as I click through her pictures. And several thoughts go through my mind.
1. She finished a quilt today. I threw away a perfectly good shower curtain because it had, well, poop on it.
2. Her quilt is laid beautifully across the floor. My floor may just have poop on it.
3. She lovingly has a family heirloom to pass down to her children one day and her grandchildren may very well fondly come to think of it as "Bubby's/Savta's/Grandma's Quilt." Me? Does an old t-shirt we bought at the Playmobil museum in Florida count as an heirloom? No, that most decidedly does not have poop on it. Probably.
FB is dangerous. It makes us see what others have, and immediately our minds go to what we are missing. You have to be a strong one to surf FB and not be jealous or intimidated by other mothers who obviously (according to their chipper Status Lines) "Did all the laundry, washed the floors (with a toothbrush!), went to the gym, did all the homework with their kids, and lost 5 lbs! And it's only 9am!"
I am content in my roll of MOBs, really! It's just that sometimes I sigh and dream of being a MOGs. Just for a few minutes. Where one can go into the bathroom and actually use the bathroom without having to clean it first.
A girl can dream, can't she?
A Little Whine
Argh. Today I am tired. Tired and cranky. Overworked and underpaid. Overwhelmed and under...oh, whatever, you get the idea.
Had a great morning at Machane Yehuda seeing the sights and sounds in Jerusalem. But it's true: When you play, you pay.
When we got home, N was up, R was home from Gan, and shortly after, the rest of the progeny walked through the door. Before I go on, I have to say how much I am getting used to not working. Please don't tell BAW.
Unemployed? Retired? Lazy? Not sure what category this not working business goes under, but it's nice. Very nice. My quiet time when N naps is usually almost 3 hours in which I can choose to straighten up, do some laundry, clean some bedrooms, have computer time or take a nap. And I missed that today. And now I am cranky.
It didn't help when S walked in the door covered in dirt from head to toe. ("Imma! This looks like poop, I know. But it's not.") Or when J came in and declared she lost her only bathing suit at swimming class today, but of course it's not her fault. (It never is, is it?) Amidst this, A ambles in and asks if he can make an apple crisp. (Because 11 yr. old boys immediately sniff out dinner upon entering the house, and obviously left overs can't be eaten without apple crisp.) But then came the straw. You know what straw I mean.
B comes barging in and yells that "We have to make cookies for the birthday party tomorrow!"
Me: "What birthday party? Whose birthday party?"
B: "MINE!"
Me: "But your birthday is not until next week."
B: "But my teacher said we are having the party tomorrow! And all the cookies have to be baked at home! By us!"
Ugh. I am now sitting on the couch. Dinner is done, baths have been given, and 4/6 are off to the Land of Nod. There are no cookies baking in the oven, and I am wishing EEC would make my kids some cookies late at night (Garfield or not, it doesn't really matter) and send 'em on over. I have a parent teacher meeting for R in 1/2 an hour. My throat hurts.
Ok, no more whining. There are cookies to bake.
When we got home, N was up, R was home from Gan, and shortly after, the rest of the progeny walked through the door. Before I go on, I have to say how much I am getting used to not working. Please don't tell BAW.
Unemployed? Retired? Lazy? Not sure what category this not working business goes under, but it's nice. Very nice. My quiet time when N naps is usually almost 3 hours in which I can choose to straighten up, do some laundry, clean some bedrooms, have computer time or take a nap. And I missed that today. And now I am cranky.
It didn't help when S walked in the door covered in dirt from head to toe. ("Imma! This looks like poop, I know. But it's not.") Or when J came in and declared she lost her only bathing suit at swimming class today, but of course it's not her fault. (It never is, is it?) Amidst this, A ambles in and asks if he can make an apple crisp. (Because 11 yr. old boys immediately sniff out dinner upon entering the house, and obviously left overs can't be eaten without apple crisp.) But then came the straw. You know what straw I mean.
B comes barging in and yells that "We have to make cookies for the birthday party tomorrow!"
Me: "What birthday party? Whose birthday party?"
B: "MINE!"
Me: "But your birthday is not until next week."
B: "But my teacher said we are having the party tomorrow! And all the cookies have to be baked at home! By us!"
Ugh. I am now sitting on the couch. Dinner is done, baths have been given, and 4/6 are off to the Land of Nod. There are no cookies baking in the oven, and I am wishing EEC would make my kids some cookies late at night (Garfield or not, it doesn't really matter) and send 'em on over. I have a parent teacher meeting for R in 1/2 an hour. My throat hurts.
Ok, no more whining. There are cookies to bake.
Friday, January 7, 2011
B in the Kitchen
As I am tending towards the trend of slowly moving off FB, I've been posting a lot more, so take it or leave it, but you've been warned.
It's almost Shabbos in the Holy Land; the food is in the oven, the desserts are (finally!) finished, and the floor is clean (for 30 seconds or less, no doubt).
I had another funny moment with B today, when he joined me in the kitchen for some Shabbos cooking. He wanted to know how I "got so good" at peeling potatoes, and I told him I was helping Bubby since I was about his age. His eyes lit up and he said, "So does that mean if I start helping you now I'll be as good as you when I'm an adult?" We all have to have aspirations, you know.
He peeled and cut zucchini for zucchini muffins and asked how to grate them. I pulled out my hand grater and showed him how it's done, cautioning him about not getting too close, "because you can grate your fingers." His first question? "How does grated finger taste?"
Hmm. Hope we don't find out.
Shabbat Shalom, hey!
It's almost Shabbos in the Holy Land; the food is in the oven, the desserts are (finally!) finished, and the floor is clean (for 30 seconds or less, no doubt).
I had another funny moment with B today, when he joined me in the kitchen for some Shabbos cooking. He wanted to know how I "got so good" at peeling potatoes, and I told him I was helping Bubby since I was about his age. His eyes lit up and he said, "So does that mean if I start helping you now I'll be as good as you when I'm an adult?" We all have to have aspirations, you know.
He peeled and cut zucchini for zucchini muffins and asked how to grate them. I pulled out my hand grater and showed him how it's done, cautioning him about not getting too close, "because you can grate your fingers." His first question? "How does grated finger taste?"
Hmm. Hope we don't find out.
Shabbat Shalom, hey!
N Speaks
According to Diego and Dora (who are my go to experts for my extensive knowledge of Spanish) that means "Jump". And if that wasn't funny enough, at the grocery store he was sitting in the cart while I was browsing the aisles, and he started yelling, "Vamanos, Imma! Vamanos!"
He is gifted in language. I am not bragging or inviting the Ayin Hara, but let's be honest; when our kids are behind we are the first to call it. So, how come it can't be the same when a child is ahead? He isn't my first child who is excelling in language, and he literally stops me in my tracks with things he says sometimes.
I heard him crying in the other room the other day and I came over and gave him a hug and said, "Oh no! Did you fall down?"
"No, I slipped."
Keep in mind, he is 20 months old, not yet 2 years old. Here's another good one: yesterday on the way back from Ein Gedi, we heard our favorite words from R in the back seat, "I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM NOW!! I HAVE TO MAKE!!"
We told him to wait, we'd stop as soon as we could pull over. And he just kept whining, "I have to make! I have to make! I have to make!!" Until I finally turned around to tell him to stop, but it wasn't R at all, it was N. He's a parrot, but a funny one.
He also has an uncanny sense of knowing who is Hebrew speaking and who is English speaking. In the stores he'll yell, "Hi, Mommy!" to random other women (mostly American). But when he sees store employees or other Hebrew speakers he'll yell, "Shalom! Shalom!" Don't ask me how, he just knows.
Gotta go, I hear "Vamanos, Imma! Let's go park!" Hmmm...there's three languages in there, isn't there?
Thursday, January 6, 2011
A Couple Days Off
We've spent the last couple of days with visiting family, and showing off this beautiful country of ours just doesn't get old. The first day we did the "Park at Mamilla Mall and Walk Through the Old City Thing". I've done that walk probably close to a hundred times over the years and it never gets boring; each time we discover new things or places we've never seen before. It also adds to the excitement to show our favorite spots to people who have never been here before. It makes it exciting all over again, and reminds us how much we love being here. Yes, we do need reminders sometimes!
That first day, once we reached the Kotel it was immediately apparent that somebody "important" was arriving at any moment. The not-so-secret Secret Service guys kind of gave it away, as did all the suits holding "White House" folders. Within 2 minutes of our arrival, Janet Napolitano, Director of US Homeland Security was getting out of one of a convoy of black SUVs. Very "24". I actually took this picture of her. We followed her around for a bit while she chatted with the Rabbi of the Kotel, and then went down to the Kotel for an up close look. My only concern was, "Will the SS guys go into the Women's section??" The answer is no. They waited respectfully at the entrance to the women's courtyard. After that curiosity of mine was solved, I was bored with her visit and anyway had to deal with a small red head who was screaming at me to help him "Kiss the Wall! Kiss the Wall!", which we did, and frankly that was much more exciting than seeing my good friend Janet.
Then, yesterday we went to one of our favorite local places, the Bell Caves in Beit Guvrin National Park which is nearby enough to not be a big trip, but the kids love it, and it was good enough for our "official" trip for the day.
We also went to another section of the park we'd never been to, called the Sidonit Caves, where we found an old burial tomb from the time of the Greeks. This was probably the most exciting part of our trip since the boys spent the whole ten minutes terrifying each other about old bones and bodies still being in the carved out sections of the tomb. Death, Zombies, bones, mummies, somehow this stuff never gets old.
Today we went down to Ein Gedi and the Dead Sea, but that is another post for a different time when my lids are not drooping down to my chin.
A bunch of you have asked me about my kids not being in school, and have asked why would we take them out?! I'll tell you the truth. I feel so differently about school here than I did when I was in the States. I'm sure there are a billion different factors. Maybe because I used to be with them at school, and am not any longer. Maybe because I realize that they are still on a major learning curve, and sometimes need more Mental Health Days than ever before. Or maybe because there are no Sundays, and I like to actually hang out with them! But none of these alone are the real reason. The real reason is that more than anything in the world, I want to show them the beauty of the land that Hashem has given us, and that we in turn have chosen. I want them to realize that their parents still revel in the beauty of this land even after being back and forth from here so many years. I want them to realize that it is where we want them to be, but more importantly where we want them to want to be. Does that make any sense?
So maybe after days filled with packed lunches, too much Bamba and lots of renditions of "Old MacDonald", we'll give over something worthwhile. It's worth a shot.
Then, yesterday we went to one of our favorite local places, the Bell Caves in Beit Guvrin National Park which is nearby enough to not be a big trip, but the kids love it, and it was good enough for our "official" trip for the day.
Today we went down to Ein Gedi and the Dead Sea, but that is another post for a different time when my lids are not drooping down to my chin.
A bunch of you have asked me about my kids not being in school, and have asked why would we take them out?! I'll tell you the truth. I feel so differently about school here than I did when I was in the States. I'm sure there are a billion different factors. Maybe because I used to be with them at school, and am not any longer. Maybe because I realize that they are still on a major learning curve, and sometimes need more Mental Health Days than ever before. Or maybe because there are no Sundays, and I like to actually hang out with them! But none of these alone are the real reason. The real reason is that more than anything in the world, I want to show them the beauty of the land that Hashem has given us, and that we in turn have chosen. I want them to realize that their parents still revel in the beauty of this land even after being back and forth from here so many years. I want them to realize that it is where we want them to be, but more importantly where we want them to want to be. Does that make any sense?
So maybe after days filled with packed lunches, too much Bamba and lots of renditions of "Old MacDonald", we'll give over something worthwhile. It's worth a shot.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Ah, that reminds me of when BAW was little...
So, the S Independence Stint reminded me of my all time favorite story of BAW in the Era known in our house as BK; Before Kids. Actually, it came A LOT Before Kids.
BAW's family made Aliya from Queens when he was but a wee lad of 2 years old. We've recently counted and just figured out that this summer BAW made aliyah for the third, yes, THIRD time. Anywhoo...
BAW's father tells the story of the Ws of the time; new (read: clueless) immigrants, with no background in Hebrew language, in the late 70's before Aliyah was all the rage, and before most Israelis knew any English. It was a very different time back then. Well, every day, my FIL would dutifully put BAW (which is such a silly acronym for him in this story, since at the time he was FOUR years old) on the van that would take him to his school and every day he would wait in the same spot to greet the van and take BAW home. Until one very different day when the van pulled up, let off the other kids, and BAW was no where to be seen. My FIL asked the driver, "Wait! Where's my son?" to which the driver replied, "He wasn't at school."
Trying not to panic, my FIL ran home and called the school, who also informed him that BAW never showed up at school that day. "But I put him on the van myself this morning!" Long story short, and lots of panic later, here's what had happened.
My FIL had indeed put him on a van that morning, just not the right one. He went to a different school, sat through a whole day of class, and here's the kicker, no one even noticed an extra boy, a cute red head sitting there in class. Until the end of the day, when all the children went on their respective vans and he was left sitting alone in the classroom. Somehow they were able to get his name out of him and at the same time my FIL was trying to track him down, they made the connection, and were able to reach my FIL who came to pick him up. From a different school. At the end of the day.
Can you imagine the panic my in-laws must've endured for those agonizingly long minutes until they figured that out? Again, it's just a reminder about how different things are here.
Kinda makes my S story seem silly.
BAW's family made Aliya from Queens when he was but a wee lad of 2 years old. We've recently counted and just figured out that this summer BAW made aliyah for the third, yes, THIRD time. Anywhoo...
BAW's father tells the story of the Ws of the time; new (read: clueless) immigrants, with no background in Hebrew language, in the late 70's before Aliyah was all the rage, and before most Israelis knew any English. It was a very different time back then. Well, every day, my FIL would dutifully put BAW (which is such a silly acronym for him in this story, since at the time he was FOUR years old) on the van that would take him to his school and every day he would wait in the same spot to greet the van and take BAW home. Until one very different day when the van pulled up, let off the other kids, and BAW was no where to be seen. My FIL asked the driver, "Wait! Where's my son?" to which the driver replied, "He wasn't at school."
Trying not to panic, my FIL ran home and called the school, who also informed him that BAW never showed up at school that day. "But I put him on the van myself this morning!" Long story short, and lots of panic later, here's what had happened.
My FIL had indeed put him on a van that morning, just not the right one. He went to a different school, sat through a whole day of class, and here's the kicker, no one even noticed an extra boy, a cute red head sitting there in class. Until the end of the day, when all the children went on their respective vans and he was left sitting alone in the classroom. Somehow they were able to get his name out of him and at the same time my FIL was trying to track him down, they made the connection, and were able to reach my FIL who came to pick him up. From a different school. At the end of the day.
Can you imagine the panic my in-laws must've endured for those agonizingly long minutes until they figured that out? Again, it's just a reminder about how different things are here.
Kinda makes my S story seem silly.
S goes to a friend's house
I am behind. Waaaay behind, again.
We've had a busy but great week here with Grandpa V. and E visiting! So much to do, so much to see. But more on that later. I promised an update about the crazy call from my 1st grader S early last week.
We were waiting for the kids to get home when the phone rang, and it was S. He was "just calling to tell you" that he was at a friend's house in BS (a good 10 minute drive away).
Me: "What? How did you get there?"
S: "I took a bus."
Me: "What?!"
S: "A bus."
Me: "What?! What?!"
I was shocked and did what I always do when I am shocked: posted immediately to FB. I mean, these things are important. People have to know about these things, you know?
We've had a busy but great week here with Grandpa V. and E visiting! So much to do, so much to see. But more on that later. I promised an update about the crazy call from my 1st grader S early last week.
We were waiting for the kids to get home when the phone rang, and it was S. He was "just calling to tell you" that he was at a friend's house in BS (a good 10 minute drive away).
Me: "What? How did you get there?"
S: "I took a bus."
Me: "What?!"
S: "A bus."
Me: "What?! What?!"
I was shocked and did what I always do when I am shocked: posted immediately to FB. I mean, these things are important. People have to know about these things, you know?
ME
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