reflections on a trip to Israel

I came back from Israel from Women's Reconnection trip. It was a trip designed for all of us (nebachs) who did not qualify or otherwise were not able to go on JWRP. In a nutshell, it was an amazing trip and I do recommend it to open-minded seekers. Here are some more of my jumbled jet-lagged thoughts before they escape and become not important.

I was the youngest of the group, by a decade at least. However, I had no problem connecting and participating and interacting with other women. I know that we were a self-selecting bunch of those open to new experiences and new connections. I also know that being in the presence of so much wisdom acquired through age and trial and error was humbling. Also, I noticed how many women were divorced or on their second marriages. I wondered how many of them needed this trip at a different, earlier point in their lives. I was grateful to take it now instead of waiting another twenty years to "focus on myself".

The trip and the participants made me feel normal, like I belong, that there is no problem with being myself, feeling what I am feeling, observing what I am observing, learning Torah and practicing the way that I do. There was no sense that there is a need to investigate anyone's kashrut or check anyone's tzitzit. I marveled at that because the trip included a few rebbitzins and I even noted it to them explicitly. We were all just Jewish women, enjoying the hospitality of other Jews.

I got a confirmation that my connection to Hashem is intact. I davened at the Kotel and kever Rachel and at Shiloh, and had no problem pouring my heart out in heartfelt prayer. G-d's presence (shechina) was there, and I could feel approaching it, focusing my thoughts, letting whatever burdened me to flow from my lips. I was not ashamed to cry. I was not limiting my thoughts, wondering if I am asking for too much, or whether it is my place to ask. I am not mad at G-d, or questioning his existence or ability to influence the events. I am mad at the people on the ground, who are committing evil in his name, denying me access to the Divine by their hypocrisy.

I was truly happy and content in Israel. Maybe it had to do with the lack of responsibilities. Maybe it had to do with a distance from my children and being able to be defined by something other than an overwhelmed mother of five. Maybe it's because the caregiving for my extra-needy child was not in my hands. Maybe it was because everything was simpler. Maybe it had to do with being able to move, walk a lot, not have to spend hours sitting in the car driving carpool, driving to activities. Perhaps it had to with having a loosely set schedule, where at any given time there was only one place I was supposed to be and only one thing I was supposed to focus on instead of the constant barrage of preparations and anticipations and things that I forgot to do that I experience in the States. Maybe it was being physically removed from the trauma that is my current shul and rabbi and alleged child molester and no ability to bring this all to light. Maybe it was being surrounded by so many women who simply bearing no ill will towards me.

I am a self-defining introvert, normally hanging back, reserved, not social, not seeking to reach out, needing my own space and craving peace and quiet. In Israel, due to the nature of the trip and the comfortable supportive atmosphere, I found myself seeking the company of others, reaching out, disclosing personal details, volunteering answers, and being "out there". Yet that felt like a very authentic part of me. There were a few times that I did feel overwhelmed and overstimulated, but nowhere near as much as I feel in the States on any given day. I wonder whether I am not just an introvert, but I simply try to minimize draining and cursory interactions so that I do not end up with extra pain.

Finally, as far as the learning aspect of the trip, I felt that the bigger messages of gratitude, recognizing and acknowledging the Divine, being G-d like in my actions, and being vulnerable with our pain and with the pain of others made me feel like I am on the right track. It took me many years and many uncomfortable twists and turns to arrive at the place where I stand but to find the classes that reinforced and deepened those themes was affirming.

From the very first time I went to Israel to this trip (my third), I felt that in Israel there is a continuum of observances and beliefs rather than discrete groupings that are taking place in America. Some of them are way out there, and some of them appear to be most like familiar American divisions, but the unity of the Jewish people somehow trumps over everything. We had a kabbalat Shabbat at the Kotel (my first Shabbat in Jerusalem) and, as we were signing with our small group, we formed a circle. All of a sudden, other women joined in: frum, not frum, in skirts, in pants, with hair covered and not, and even quite a few tourists who I am pretty sure were not Jewish. Somebody was recording the whole spontaneous scene with a cellphone and nobody was waiving for her to stop. A few days before we explored the theme of feeling a touch of the Divine. Joint experiences in the multitude of others came up. At this moment, singing and dancing together, like one person with one voice and one heart, I felt G-d's fingerprint in the world. I am not a mystical person, I am very rational and logical by nature. However, the way that this trip spoke to me was mystical and mysterious. For some reason, this is what I needed to take away.

parental suffering

Growing up, a common Russian refrain was: wait till you have kids and they will behave towards you like you behave towards me and then you will experience what it is like to be in my shoes. The idea was that parenting required suffering by the parents through the hands of their offspring, but hope was on the horizon, in the guise of those mythical future children who will repay and maybe even make future parental suffering worse.

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I thought about this a whole lot. In some ways, there is no way to shield future parents from the basic forms of children's behavior, including tantrums, crying, screaming, disappointment. But that is not the essence of this parental "curse". It is the idea that suffering will be a measure for measure: just as you made me worry about your rudeness, recklessness, disappointment, so may your kids trouble you. Now, does that necessarily have to come true? I do not wish upon my children to experience some of the extreme emotions they have put me through. I hope that they grow up to be balanced enough adults that they will be able to separate their own reaction from the actions of their children. I do not want to take revenge on my children because no matter what amount of heartache they put me through, who gains from this multi-generational suffering? It is not that the behavior of these grandchildren will change, but the parental response. This change has to start with me. I have already been parenting quite differently at year 14 than I was at year 1 or 3. Some of the shenanigans are the same, but my choice how to react to them is different.

May my dear children not experience dread and shame in their parenting. May they grow up to be resourceful, resilient adults who know how to regulate their emotions and teach this to their own offspring. And may I get to see this.

working on not yelling

After facing the reality of how devastating yelling is to some of my kids, I have consciously cut down on yelling. (I have written about yelling before, but then I slipped, things got crazy again. I am human and imperfect and that was the emotional release shortcut.) It has been very very hard to control myself even when anger seemed justified, even when punishment seemed warranted, even when yelling was a primal scream of despair. One of the consequences of not losing it and not yelling has been how that child has reduced his tone of voice. Because the overall volume has been much lower, he modulated his voice to speak more quietly. His overall tone is so quiet that I often have a hard time hearing what he's saying, so I end up raising my voice to ask him again to speak up...

It seems that I have been the primary source of noise with my children because now I experience other people's elevation of tone or yelling as a physical slap. Probably didn't help that I was belted as a kid, so the body remembers drawing into a panic state because that kind of escalation by another adult would be followed with hitting. Oh no, no childhood abuse, just "I was spanked as a child and I have turned out alright, respectful and all." But now that the gut reaction of recoiling and protecting myself is activated, I am experiencing precisely what my children must have been experiencing all the years and times that I have raised my voice at them in frustration and anger.

And it hurts.

Because I spend so much of my day and emotional energy on controlling myself, I am drained by the evening time, when the rest of the children get concentrated mommy while trying to kick, back, let go, get comfortable and wind down. I have so little emotional reserve left that I end up losing it, either externally or internally. Sometime between 4 and 9 pm, despair sets in, the sort of despair that one experiences while pacing with a baby who just would not sleep. I am drowning while trying to rescue others.

A Wednesday

I am tired. Oh so deeply, essentially tired.

I don't want to whine about how tired I am.

I had a bad night of sleep. 11 yo got braces on his upper teeth and an expander and the pain kicked in in the middle of the night. He marched over at 3 am for a dose of Tylenol.

Not everyone had lunch packed this morning. 13 yo was having a picture day at school, but it was on me to remind him the morning of that he needs to bring a suit on a hanger. 11 yo refused to eat breakfast due to braces and inability to chew his usual morning fare: a bagel. No alternatives would do. He would not think about what to pack for lunch for the homeschool coop classes coming up later in the day. He refused to daven. He refused to go. He refused to do any schoolwork, to listen to any suggestions on how to deal with his teeth, or to offer any of his own. And the whole time I kept coaching myself internally: do not yell, it's his anxiety talking, do not yell, it will make it worse, do not yell...

I packed my lunch. I wiped the kitchen windows. I washed out the recycling bin.

He did get in the car when it was time to leave. He acquiesced to a water bottle, but no food. We listened to iPod in silence during the drive. I felt drained already.

I taught my class. 11 yo is in my class, and he was super jittery the entire time: pacing, touching, blurting things out. I find teaching exciting and draining, even if it's just middle school chemistry to five homeschool kids. My mom called in the middle. We have been taking coop classes on Wednesdays for six years, but she still called when I was teaching.

Then I assisted in another class. 11 yo freaked out about a forgotten password, then he recalled it. I helped paint some rocks. I had lunch. I chatted with other moms, all the while keeping an eye on the clock for the afternoon carpool. 11 yo came over to graze. He had a few crackers. I tried to pretend that it is normal to skip breakfast and lunch, nothing to worry about.

I left at 2 pm. 11 yo seemed agreeable to finding something to eat at home while I would drive carpool. I meekly suggested that he look over his schoolwork and see if he can do anything on his own. I dropped him off and zoomed to preschool to get 2 yo. She was sleeping, and sleepily transferred to her car seat. Then we zoomed onto the highway to get the rest of the kids from their school.

By some sheer miracle (and the existence of people more organized than I) I am part of a carpool where I have to drive only 2-3 times a week instead of 10 times. However, since there are six kids loading into my car, it is never smooth. These ones do not want to sit with those. That one is touching this one. This one is eating. That one is sort of trying to say a bad word while talking about it. These ones are just annoying. That one is loud. And they all have been cooped up in the school building since 8 am and now they are set loose in my car. I used to talk to my kids when we drive places. I used to think they were loud. But this is a whole new level.

But today was not bad. Today they even loaded quickly enough for the carpool lady not to hustle anyone. I had same iPod going and as long as it was playing, they seemed quiet. I checked my messages to see who is dropped off where today. Mind you, it is 4 pm now and I have been driving since 2.

We get home. 13 yo and 7 yo change into their bathing suits for swimming. Years ago, when I just started homeschooling, the boys tried out for a swim team and were not able to swim enough to qualify. Now it is a whole different story. We live a five-minute walk from the JCC. There are no major streets to cross. 13 yo is legally old enough to babysit. But JCC apparently has a rule that he is not old enough to be 7 yo's guardian while she is attending swim practice. They are not just splashing in the pool, they are attending an organized class, but they need to be watched by a legal; guardian. So they cannot walk over there and back on their own, and they cannot be left there unsupervised while they are swimming. I am very upset by this. Have I known this, I probably would not have signed 7 yo up. 13 yo is old enough to get there and back on his own. And I wonder: we keep complaining how kids nowadays are so ill-adapted to independent living, how millennials are such spoiled brats, how they don't know how to be tough. Why do we set up such rules in place that keep kids on a short parental leash for so long? How are large families supposed to manage this? I tried bringing my younger kids to practice, but it is no fun keeping 2 yo for half an hour away from the pool's edge. Besides. she was just in the car for over an hour. All she wants to do is come home, chill and play.

My only solution was to ask 11 yo if he so kindly would not mind watching his two younger siblings at home while I watched his two older siblings at the pool, twice a week. He agreed, but today both younger siblings disagreed. I ended up shoving two older kids out to the door, leaving 11 yo in charge of two screaming kids. If you want to feel mom guilt, do that, especially after spending zero time with the babies the whole day.

After the pool, faster, faster, let's get home, I know the little ones were storming the pantry before I left. I have not been home since 9 am, so there is no dinner because there was no time for the dinner. But never fear, we are going to eat out tonight at a new Israeli restaurant because that's the best I could come up with. As we are getting in the car to drive that ridiculously short distance home, 11 yo called me to hurry up because 2 yo did not stop crying the entire time I was gone.

I bitterly commented how I need more grown-ups in my life, so I am not leaving an 11 yo in braces pain in charge of two screaming kids. 13 yo wryly commented how he used to be that 11 yo. Yes, kid, we have been making do for years. It is sad when kids have to step up and function as adults.

I am greeted at the doorstep by a teary 2 yo clutching her blankie next to her big brother. 4 yo is freaking out that this new restaurant will not have hot dogs and what he will eat then? The rest of the food is "yucky". It does not take a supersleuth to figure out that he did not nap today, that he's tired, that the last thing he wants is to go out to eat instead of snuggling on the couch with mommy. But there is no dinner, and I am not serving noodles yet again.

The new restaurant was a bright spot. Even my husband made it home on time to come with us. The food was plentiful and good, they had schnitzel for 4 yo, 11 yo was able to chew and get mashed potatoes. The rebbitzen of the community invited us out for Succot lunch. Yay for procrastination! One less meal to plan for!

And then my husband got called up, And then we got home at 7 pm. 7 yo had twenty minutes of nightly reading log. 4 yo went back into full meltdown mode, and I was trying to manage the kids from the couch while half-listening to my daughter read. It is clicking, but it is still slow. Both boys were reading fluently and for pleasure at this age. She still does so little functional reading that I had to point out the kids' section on the menu. I am also thinking how this mandatory reading is not helping move things along, but, being a conscientious student, she dutifully reads every night.

After I finished and tucked in the three youngers, I did two more sections from Hilchot Teshuva with 11 yo. That was the only schoolwork that we did today.

It is 9:30. 11 yo is still up. I packed lunches. I am defrosting chicken for erev yom kippur and for kids to eat on Yom Kippur.

I just want to go and kick back with a book. But most of all, I want to arrive at the nighttime not mindlessly tired.

The plan for next year

I know it's the end of May. I know that most people have decided long ago what they will be doing with their kids the following school year. But that is not how we roll. We roll with agony, with false starts, with negotiations, with doubts. As of Friday, I finally know what we are doing.

Call it hashgacha pratit, call it prayer, call it coincidence, but a spot opened up for my 2 yo at the same school that my oldest is attending. We did not even apply, let alone get on the waiting list. We just spoke to the financial office to see what it would cost us to enroll all four children in one school. We got our answer, but then there was no spot for her because we started the conversation so late. So we did not even apply. I spoke to the director of their current preschool about next year and was told that since 4 yo will be in pre-K, it would have to be five days a week program, less he misses something important in his preparation for kindergarten, Insert giant eye roll here from an unschooly mom. Then we got into the financial side and for some reason, even though I had all the papers ready to sign, the same financial organization was not sharing our file with the preschool. It dragged on for almost two weeks till I got an unexpected phone call that they are expanding 2 yo class at the other school, the same financial package as before, are we committing? One school, one calendar, one schedule for pick up and drop off, one location? Are you kidding: we are committing. And this commitment gave me just the right push to decide that 11 yo, my second son, will be homeschooled next year.

He had an OK year at school. He adjusted to the schedule, the workload, the homework. But he did not adjust to bullying that was taking place and that both he and I tried to address with the administration. He was utterly lost in gemara because that's what happens when you take a child who is still struggling to read Hebrew, throw him with condescending boys who had a few years of gemara (8th graders), switch a rebbe in the middle of the year and give him tests where he aces one and fails the next. "I hate gemara." Brilliant, just what I wanted the school to do to you and your approach to learning.

I have taken him to yet another psychologist and we collected yet another diagnosis and another set of suggested accommodations. Funny how they all sounded like what I did back in the day when I homeschooled him: no time pressured work, minimize written output, don't make him write long answers where a short one would suffice, offer typing or voice dictation instead of writing, keep environment distraction-free and quiet, give him extra time on tasks and tests... I wanted to meet with the principal and discuss the accommodations, but he was more interested in getting us to sign the tuition contract. Then he was more interested in discussing his standardized scores. My child who has anxiety had to take three MAP tests this year just so they would confirm what I already knew from IOWAs: he reads and comprehends on a high school level and is a level ahead in math. The principal was arguing that this shows how the school is helping him flourish. I was thinking of the same child cowering in the kitchen corner that morning, fully dressed in his uniform, crying how he does not like school... He has been begging to go back to homeschooling the whole year but I was not sure whether I have it in me.

Thank you, G-d, for everything turning out just as it should. Apparently, coming full circle is putting my typical kids into school and keeping my different child at home. Now please just give me strength, passion, and patience to pull this off and to keep on meeting his needs.

A day trip to Chattanooga aquarium

I had all the kids home with me last week. We were talking about different things to do and Chattanooga Aquarium came up. We have been there once, almost four years ago, and I have much fonder memories of it than of our local overpriced and super-commercialized aquarium.

So this morning I woke up (after the baby has been sleeping through the night for the past week) and when one of the boys asked whether we can drive to Chattanooga today, I said: "Why not?" And just like that, we had breakfast, packed up lunch and a diaper bag, and set out. By "we" I mean myself and five kids. My husband had to work. I joked with him how I really need to go to farmer's market and Costco this week, but I much rather drive to an aquarium two hours away that go through the store with my crew.

On the way there, we finished listening to "The Dragon Rider" by Cornelia Funke. We started on the way to and from the homeschool conference, but since we have to intersperse music for the younger kids, books on CDs take a while. 3 yo's new favorite CD is Frog Trouble by Sandra Boynton, another library find. At least Sandra Boynton CDs are not annoying when played frequently, something that I can't say about Raffi or Wiggles.

I brought an umbrella stroller for the baby, a backpack cooler with lunch for 12 yo to carry, and a diaper bag. When we got to Chattanooga, we had lunch first and then entered the first building of the aquarium. I kept on thinking about the gorilla incident and the angry chorus how animals should not be displayed. And then I saw how much my younger kids, 6 yo and 3 yo, who have not been to the zoo in the past year, or any other place with animal exposure, picked up from seeing live birds, fish, and mammals. How can one teach a 3 yo to be brave enough to plunge his hand into cold water and pet a stingray? How can I give my daughter the experience of discovery that stingray feels like jello and she can reach in and touch it? How can they learn what a butterfly walking across one's face feels like? How else my 3 yo will discover excitedly that penguins "fly" underwater? That he can use two fingers to feel the scales of a cornsnake?

We had a great time. Nobody ran off, nobody got lost, nobody cried. 3 yo even didn't have any accidents, and the baby stayed awake and relatively happy the whole time. And I kept thinking: this is what a good homeschooling day feels like. This is what I love doing with my wild and crazy bunch: drive them to a cool place, get all excited about it, see them get all excited, and watch as they ask each other about what they liked the most. 

Before we headed back, the kids asked about Ben and Jerry's corner store right next to the parking garage. I said that I will take a look at their prices. When you have five kids, getting everyone a scoop gets expensive very quickly, not to mention that we already spent money on gas and parking and admission (technically membership since I am planning to get there again). When I ducked into the store ( more accurately, as we spilled into the store) and I saw their prices, I felt ready to leave. Enter 12 yo, the rationalist: "If I split a cup with my brother, and sister splits a cup with 3 yo and you get a small cup for yourself, it is much cheaper than getting everyone a scoop". "Yes, we all all ready to share". Ok then, The older boys ordered their cup, but 3 yo, spoiled by getting his own (free) baby cone at local Bruster's was not inclined to share. So he dropped on the floor, kicking and screaming that he wants his own. The beauty of having so many kids is that it is no longer mortifying. I knew that either he will stop yelling soon and chooses to share, or he will continue yelling and I will take him outside the store without ice cream. Knowing this child, I was betting on the first. Sorry, patrons, but I had to pay for our treat. By the time I paid, he calmed down and chose to sit next to his sister.

We finished our scoops, got in the car, and drove back home.

May I be known as a mom with a messy house and without groceries, but the one who took her kids places that generated happiness.

Acceptance

I have been trying to get 10 yo into school. It is a different school than the one we tried a few years back. Today he took a placement test. I knew from the past that he does not like being tested, and he is very anxious about his performance. But he just passed him black belt test in taekwondo, and, in my mind, that ought to be harder than what the school will come up with. So I warned him beforehand about this placement test, but I downplayed it: it is less than an hour, it is just to see what you know and what you don't so there probably will be some really easy questions, and some so hard that you will not be able to answer them, and it is not a big deal.

This morning he took a really long time to emerge from the bed, usually not a good sign. He was very frustrated that we did not have his poppy seed bagel. My husband drove him over and texted me with the time to pick him up. Before I even got myself ready, I got a call from the school that he finished early. I told them that I'm on my way. 6 yo and 3 yo decided to tag along.

10 yo was waiting in the school's lobby, so I got him quite quickly. As we loaded into the car, the principal came out, calling after me. He wanted to let me know how 10 yo did. The principal said that he tested very high both in reading comprehension and in math. He congratulated me on doing a good job homeschooling him. My heart skipped a beat. 

In homeschooling, a lot of learning and growth takes place away from prying eyes, and it is not easy to assess, let alone to receive praise. I kept on thinking: is this the same child that the other school thought was so far behind as to be placed a grade lower? Is this the child that needed shadow, or medication, and a trial to see how it goes? Do we really just need to give time to these super-difficult children, and they will be fine, and they will excel, both by our standards, and by those of the world?

Later, we received an e-mail with the official acceptance letter.

I wish that I could report that the rest of the day was carried on these good news, but 10 yo spent a large part of it melting down. I mentioned doing chumash while the baby sleeps, and he tearfully told me that he did not "expect" to do chumash today. Well, we learn Torah every day, and he knows that. After lots of misery, I got out of him that he just wanted to do one pasuk. I agreed, He kind of did it, then got stuck on a word during review screaming at me that yesterday he translated שעיר עזים as a ram and it cannot possibly mean anything else. 

Around dinnertime, he declared that the food I was making was his least favorite and he has to eat something else, all the while trying to surreptitiously grab it on the go while I was frying up dinner. I stopped him and he stormed off into the basement, locking himself in.

So, academically we are fine, maybe even more than fine, but where are we emotionally? I keep telling myself that I am sending him not for the academics, but to break up our bad dynamic. And I keep hoping that he will learn to relax enough during test taking so that he does not have to punish himself and everyone around him afterward.

Kids get away

If you have not been hiding under a rock, you have heard about the unfortunate incident at the Cincinnati zoo where a 4-year-old boy made his way into the gorilla enclosure, fell 15 feet and was tossed and displayed by a large silverback gorilla that had to be shot and killed. The story has layers: the child supposedly taunted his mom before making his break, other people were trying to stop him, the silverback seemed protective at first, the female gorillas left the exhibit but the male wouldn't, the crowd went frantic, the child was being flung around by the male.

And the chorus of haters immediately surfaced:

• mom must have been negligent
• she should have been watching the child/holding on to him the entire time
• she should have jumped in and saved him from the gorillas
• the gorilla should have been lured away with treats
• the gorilla should have been tranquilized
• ten minutes of response time is much too long
• parents should be sued by the zoo
• parents should sue the zoo
• gorillas don't belong in zoos
• the enclosure should have been higher

I am feeling sick to my stomach. Sometimes really horrible things happen, and there is nobody to blame. Sometimes it might be someone's fault, but what have been gained by pointing fingers? 

And my heart goes out to that mom in the spotlight.

I have written before about parents who claim that their children would never do that. I am impressed by the amount of parents who are confident that they are fully aware of all their children's whereabouts at all times. So in the spirit of honesty and vulnerability, I will share my stories of children getting away.

My second child, 10 yo, was always a runner. Since he learned how to walk, he didn't walk, he ran. Once I took him and his brother to the zoo. He was still 3, so I brought a stroller for him, where he sat most of the time. At that zoo, the primate area was a giant loop, with one entrance/exit and exhibits off to the sides. The boys kept asking me to pick them up so they could see the monkeys. I must have been lifting them up and down for a while, alternating. At some point, they went ahead and I was catching up, with a stroller. I didn't even have texting on the phone, so no, I was not doing anything else, just following after the boys. It was getting close to lunchtime and I had to teach right after, so I was anxious to leave the area, feed them, and head back. I turned the corner and my oldest, 5 at the time, was there, but no sight of 3-year-old. I assumed he walked ahead, after all, this is a loop, so he must be at the next exhibit. I am following them, I am hoisting them up, he must have gone ahead to the orangutans where he can see without being picked up. I drag my oldest along, but 3 year old is not to be found. I come to the exit and freak out: now he could have gone into the rest of the zoo, or back into the exhibit, or I somehow missed him. I knew he was a runner, so I was staying right there, close behind, with him in the stroller. Where is he? I drag 5 year old back with me, looking closely. He protests, he cannot see any animals like this. I circle back the entire exhibit and fully panic now. He must have exited and gone into the zoo. And he's three. And I have no idea where to look for him. And I have to teach soon. What am I going to tell the school, that I am late because I lost a child at the zoo?!

Waves of gut-wrenching panic sweep over me. I find a zookeeper and tell him that I am missing a child. I remember what he was wearing (back in the day I used to get my boys dressed in bright orange or red shirts, because I knew one is a runner). He pages the rest of the zookeepers and tells them to scan for a small boy. Meanwhile, he wants to head back to the primates where we started, to look again. 

I have no pride left, just a tense ball of nerves. I am dragging my other child who is complaining and complaining. As we enter the loop yet again. the keeper gets the page that my son was found. It was wintertime during school hours, the zoo was not busy. He was spotted sitting at the table not far from the cafe area. I ran, stroller and dragged 5 year old in my wake. The boy is sitting there, unperturbed. "I was waiting to have lunch, mommy".

At least we did not make the evening news. At least he was not curious to see what the orangutan was having for lunch.

I asked him about that incident now and he did not remember it. But it still quickens my pulse just to think of it.

And another time, when we were in Costco and he and his younger sisters got away and hid in the canoes. I also looked and looked, this time for two kids. Again, swallow your pride, ask for assistance. But Costco does not do loudspeaker announcements, so I get to die again, as each associate is paged separately. My son did remember that incident. He said that the canoes looked cool and he just wanted to see what the inside of one was like, and then they crawled inside and hid not to be kidnapped...

And multiple times, in stores, when I turned around and he was gone...

It is different with my other kids.  If they get lost, it is because they got separated. They will stand there, they will not escape. My current3-year-oldd does not wander off. But I am not bold enough to declare that it will never happen because I am so vigilant.

So let's drop finger-pointing and posturing, and share your stories of kids who got away. It does not make you a bad parent, it makes you an honest one.

Do not be afraid!

I lied.

I got on the Internet after Shabbos and there was an article about a credible threat from ISIS through Anonymous that there might be a local terror attack planned for tomorrow. 11 yo was sitting next to me as I was scrolling, and he saw it, too.

"Are you scared? Are they going to blow us up?"
"There will not be a terrorist attack here tomorrow. Are you kidding?! They will beef up security, they will scan and check everything, it would be simply stupid to try to do anything like that tomorrow."

I said these words with a straight face.

I lied.

I do not know whether or not there will be an attack here tomorrow. By definition, anyone who straps a suicide belt on and goes out to maim complete strangers is not following the rules of logic. They are the ones most likely to do stupid thing like try to carry out an attack at all costs.

So what do I say to my kids?

Do I tell them that there is a part of me which wants to crawl into bed under a large blanket with all of them and hold them close and shut my ears until the world is going to turn sane again?

Do I tell them that there are scary and mean people out there, willing to knife us just because?

Do I tell them how I want to feel safe and not go anywhere?

But that means that those terrorists won. They would win by instilling that level of fear. And I cannot stay in tomorrow. It's a Sunday and my husband is home. 9 yo has a rescheduled violin lesson. 5 yo wants to ride her bike with her daddy. I have a bat mitzvah to go to. I am not staying inside, cowering from fear!

So I will tell lies how we are in the safest place in the world right now because there is so much security waiting just in case. I will not be afraid.

The Jewish education my kids are not getting

Being a baalat teshuva and not attending day school makes me nervous about my Judaic knowledge. I am even more jittery when it comes to educating boys. When do they start mishna? When do they start Gemara? What format does halacha learning take? What about Jewish philosophy? I don't even know what it is supposed to look like, let along teach it. I feel so inadequate, so ready to put them into dayschool or hire a rebbe, someone who knows this stuff, who can teach them.

What I tend to forget is that learning without application is worthless. Luckily, there are plenty of situations to remind me about it.

Today the kids held a "student council meeting" and decided among themselves that they want to be governed by republican democracy. Well, 2 yo objected by saying no. When 11 yo offered tyranny, 2 yo jumped excitedly up and down. Part of this new system of rule included taxation. The kids set a tax rate at 10% of their allowance, after tzedakah. They decided to store their taxes in an envelope in 5 yo's drawer (being the most responsible and the least likely to lose it). They also entered a clause about stealing from the tax fund and that was set by 11 yo straight from his mishna.

Later on today, we had an afternoon bris to attend. (The baby was jaundiced, so the bris was delayed). This is a sibling of one of their friends, so the kids were quite eager to go. As the crowds shuffled into the shul, I surveyed the situation and decided that it might not be worth it to stay for the סעודה afterwards, as it looked very crowded and I had all five kids by myself. Moreover, the boys went downstairs while I stayed upstairs with three younger ones. 5 yo asked to go down to the boys, but since this is not the building that we usually go to, I was not sure whether she knew her way around. I let her go, but then I could not find her afterwards. As I was trying to get the stroller into the corner and find a seat for 2 yo, I saw people trolling next to the food table, with the staff telling them that the food is not being served yet. I saw kids grab fistfuls of candy from the sweet table, more that any one child can eat at a time. I stopped mine from doing the same. I saw a rabbi hover around the food with the plate, trading remarks with the staff as to why he is not filling his plate yet. And I saw kids swoop in and repeatedly grab cookies from the sides, where the staff could not get them to stop.

All these kids are going to local Jewish schools, getting a Jewish education. The rabbi is a teacher in one of these schools. Yet all I saw was a lack of דרך ארץ. If the purpose of learning all those mishnayot is to pass a test and then leave them behind in the classroom, I am not sure whether that can be called education. If the rabbi teaches Pirkei Avot, yet fails to behave as a mentch, I am not sure whether his teaching means anything.

I gathered up my kids and left, not waiting to see the stampede of everyone else once the food will be opened up. I did not want to see people pushing and shoving to fill their plates. I did not want my kids to see people piling on more food that they can eat. I did not want to see the parents of the baby shake their heads and regret this late afternoon bris and the crowd of hungry Jews that were lured by a free dinner. But before I walked out, I saw the disgust in the eyes of a not religious grandma, surely produced by the less than fine behavior of the religious Jews.

My kids might be missing out on Jewish education, but they will not miss out on being educated in how to be a mentch.

2 year old goes to camp

2 yo is going to a backyard camp. This camp is run by a woman who has a playgroup in her house during the year for 2 year olds. I don't know how many years of experience she has, but she is a seasoned teacher, highly recommended in our neighborhood.

The first day of camp I did not do a good drop off. I scheduled to drop off 2 yo last, after his siblings, but, by that point, the baby was screaming hysterically, wanting to nurse, and I was running late. So I marched my little boy into a noisy room full of kids, dragging his bag of diapers and his backpack with lunch. The Morah (teacher) asked me the usual questions: what do you call him? And does he know any kids in the room? I quickly glanced around, did not see any familiar faces, told her that I have a crying baby waiting, and ran. Not a very good introduction to the new place, I am afraid, especially since we have not been to the house before.

When it was time to pick him up, I came on time, hoping to smooth out whatever did not go right in the morning. The Morah told me that he napped, and he did great. Then she asked me: does he go to school anywhere? I said: no. (She knows I homeschool). She expressed surprise and started telling me how he listened, was very comfortable, and played with the other kids. I said that he is with his older siblings all day long, playing and interacting, so he is used to it.

I did not make much of this, except for thanking G-d for an easy transition. I also chalked up some of this to flattery.

Yesterday, again, the Morah asked me whether I am sure he is not in any program. "He is such a sweet kid, so happy, so easy, just lies down for his nap without crying, talks, plays." I chuckled: does she think that I am hiding some great socialization program from her? Then I assured her that he is home with me, but we do get together with other homeschoolers and he does go to babysitting in shul on Shabbos.

I thought about it. This woman has seen many 2 year olds, and my child is not the easiest toddler on the block. I guess, when she gets 2 year olds who have not been to "school", they have hard time separating from their mothers or interacting with children who are not part of their family, so she expected a similar situation with my son. Also, there is this image of homeschool kids being isolated in their home, unhappy and unsocialized. I wonder whether we broke another stereotype here.

How did we get here? How is this child able to go into this intense situation, which could be anxiety-provoking, yet he is fine and happy?

Part of it is the personality. He is an outgoing boy, who is not shy or reserved, but he is not an exuberant extrovert. Part of it is the birth order: when you are the fourth, you are used to having many loud people around you. You have to speak up your mind to get things. You are used to running with the pack. Part of it is homeschooling, and hanging for many hours with kids of all different ages. We go to different places and I am not always on his tail, closely supervising every single step. Other mothers have watched my kid, brought him to me, gave him snacks, so he is used to having different people take care of his needs.

And part of it is parenting. Being the fourth child, 2 yo gets a good mix of parents who are too tired to micromanage, yet who know that an extra hug, or pick up, or snuggle will not spoil a child. He is secure asking for comfort, so he can go into the world and explore.

To be honest, I have a huge moral conflict with sending out a 2 year old to camp (or to school) for such a long day and for so many weeks. There is a part of me which strongly feels that the reason I have a happy, secure child is due to him being at home, close to his mommy, and that is where he belongs. Now I am upsetting this delicate balance. Now I will have to adjust to the reality that I cannot provide him with what he enjoys, like water play or messy projects, without turning into a disaster manager, losing my cool, and yelling. Yes, I have to accept the reality that I am THAT parent, that mom who is sending out her 2 year old because it is just too hard for me.

On the plus side, it is only for a year. I keep telling myself that we are taking life on year at a time, and we can always stop, assess, and change our circumstances as necessary.

Dance ensemble

Today was the last Young People's Concert of the season in Spivey Hall. This year, considering how hectic everything was, and how overwhelmed I felt, I have not made use of this great resource as I have in the past years. Also, due to large range of my children's ages, it was hard choosing a performance which would engage everyone. We have gone to three concerts: one was cello quartet, one was a children's opera and this last one was the university's dance ensemble.

My daughter was in playgroup today, so I ended up taking only the boys. I had to get gas, so we ended up leaving so early that we got to the university's grounds with half an hour to spare. This worked to our advantage. The weather was nice, and there are beautiful ponds with waterfowl. My kids often watch them through the window while we wait to be seated, but it rarely worked out for us to spend any time walking around. Today, we got close and personal to a swan and quite a few geese. The older boys spotted a bunch of turtles, and even a water snake. They ran around one of the ponds while 2 yo diligently collected sticks and tossed them in. I often kick myself for not building in this type of free, unscheduled time, especially to enjoy and contemplate nature. We are always rushing to and fro, always working around nap time and taekwondo and playgroup pick-up.

When we went inside the Hall, 2 yo decided to try sliding down the staircase on his stomach, just as he does at home. There were not many people, and I was glad not to have to carry him down all those stairs. At the same time, I felt that it might not be exactly appropriate, considering the decorum of the place. As we were reaching the bottom, one of the ushers approached me. I tensed up, suspecting that it has to do with our entrance. Instead, she asked me how far along am I and where is my missing daughter. She spoke about looking forward to seeing our family next season, with a little one in arms. I exhaled in relief. Maybe we are not that socially inappropriate. Maybe we make a good impression. Maybe people have compassion for us.

Usually the concerts involve singing and/or musical instruments, so having a dance performance was not something that my boys have seen on stage before. Additionally, there was a program this time. 10 yo looked at a black-and-white cover featuring a ballerina, and grouched that it will be all about girls in frilly pink skirts. I kidded him back, that maybe the tutu will be white, or black, or pale blue. He browsed through the program and then tapped me excitedly: one of the dances was set to The Piano Guys' Code Name Vivaldi. My husband recently introduced boys to The Piano Guys, and they have been obsessing over it.

This is a college-level dance program, but, as the choreographer explained, it is a fairly new program on campus, less than three years old. Consequently, it was obvious that we did not have professional ballerinas and dancers performing; rather, students who chose to take a dance class. What struck me is how diverse were their body types. Often, when one watches ballet, or even back-up dancers in music videos, it is easy to assume that one has to be emaciated-looking in order to dance. Now these ladies were voluptuous. Some might have even qualified as obese. Some were petite, but there was no uniformity to them. Yet they all danced with passion and with grace. They all knew how to move to the music, and how to enjoy themselves. It did not look ridiculous, it looked like great fun. And there were no pink frilly tutus. There were body suits, and off-the shoulder leotards. There was jiggling of flesh; there was movement and confidence. I am glad that my boys got to see these real human bodies moving, instead of glossed and polished versions on TV, or in a professional program.

My daughter is finishing her year of ballet and tap. There is going to be a recital and all the hoopla that comes with it. One thing that bothered me from the first day about ballet was how much emphasis is placed on appearance, on wearing the matching outfits, on staying in line, etc. My reasoning for signing her up (she was asking for it) was to get this ballerina dream out of her system when she is young, and then move on to some activity which requires less emphasis on appearance. After watching the young ladies on stage today move their bodies with confidence despite lack of uniform appearance might make me reconsider. No, I am not plotting a dance career for my daughter, but I want her to be confident that her body can do wondrous things, despite the body type and appearance.

teaching responsibility and other lessons

My oldest is a dreamer.
He is distracted.
Disorganized.
Scatter-brained.
Loses things.
Creative and cannot be bothered to clean up.

By this point, either you are nodding your head in agreement, or shaking it in frustration. I used to think that this is a reflection of my lack of organization, or poor parenting skills. When he was in kindergarden, I was told how he was the only kid whose lunchbox was not in his cubby, and neither was his backpack. His jacket was on the floor instead of being hung up.

I thought that by homeschooling him I will be able to fix this character flaw. I will be on top of him, I will make him clean up, he will suffer the consequences, and we will get this straightened out. That was good five years ago. The rest of the kids are pretty good about putting their things away, and being responsible, but this child is still stubbornly refusing to be molded into an obedient citizen of our household.

The boys take taekwondo, which comes with a pristine white uniform. Before they received their uniforms, they were given a speech on its proper treatment. It is their responsibility, and they are supposed to keep track of it and keep it clean. The boys are also teaching a taekwondo class at our homeschool coop. For the class, they change into their uniforms, and then change back into regular clothes. 8 yo packs his up in a plastic bag. Now imagine what a child-who-cannot-be-bothered does with his... I'm lucky if he rolls it up and tucks it under his arm as he rushes out.

This Wednesday, I had a particularly hard time getting kids out the door. When I got to the van and had to negotiate with the three older kids how sticks/magic wands are not allowed inside, while simultaneously attempting to buckle up 2 yo, I noticed 10 yo's uniform by his feet, with his muddy shoes planted right on top. I pointed this out, more like yelled at him yet again.

When we got to the park, and the boys saw their friends, all bets were off. They did change into their uniforms to teach the class, and then changed back afterwards. 8 yo was very upset about what was going on during class (kids not listening, his brother not sticking to the script that they wrote beforehand, being stuck trying to teach younger kids while the older one showed off his forms to the older ones), yet he changed, placed his uniform into a plastic bag, and asked me to unlock the van to put it inside. 10 yo dropped his on the ground, and went into the woods with his friends. I did not pick it up for him.

When it was time for me to leave the park, I told both boys that all their possessions are their responsibility. They both nodded distractedly, and ran off with their friends.

As I drove home, I was pretty sure that 10 yo just abandoned his uniform and his belt in the park. He did not realize that it was missing till 7:30 that night. Then he wanted to drive back to the park to go looking for it, RIGHT NOW! I said that I have a class to go to (I really did), and that I do not have time to go looking for something that he did not bother to take care of. My husband started getting worried, too: 10 yo was supposed to get tested the following day, and how is he going to test without a uniform? I said that it should concern him more than it concerns us. 10 yo said that if he has no uniform, he does not want to test. I asked him what his plan is from now on: what is he going to do next time he's in class? He started ranting about taekwondo. I said that he can buy himself a new uniform with his allowance money. He said that he just spent it all on Pokemon cards. I asked about his savings, and he said that he had none. I suggested calling the dojang, explaining the situation to his master, and finding out whether he can still test tomorrow.

Then I left for my class.

When I got back, my husband said that 10 yo did call, and was told that he can get a new uniform before the test. They worked it out that my husband will lend him money, and then he will have it withheld from his allowance until the value is paid off.

The next day, I took 10 yo early enough for his testing to get fitted for his uniform. He went into the office, definitely subdued and nervous. Then he came out, beaming: "The Master gave me a new uniform! And he said it is a present! I don't have to pay for it!"

You are one lucky ducky. Just when I thought you will be taught a lesson about responsibility and consequences, you get handed an article as a present. On top of this, even though he lost his belt, and now had a white belt on, he was lined up in his proper placement, instead of in the back, with the white belts. I was starting to wonder whether this unexpected excessive kindness  is undermining the lesson to be learned.

He tested well, and he answered quite a few questions thrown at him. He even got congratulated on his great knowledge. As we were driving back, and I could not hold back and remarked how he lucked out on his free uniform, he said: "Mom, I davened to Hashem, and he answered me. I paid special attention to Shema Koleinu, and Hashem sent me a great day, with a good resolution. Come to think of it, any time that I ask Hashem for special things in Shema Koleinu, he helps me. When I just rush through and don't ask, nothing happens. How does it work?" I said that preparing mentally before davening, and thinking which the good things to request helps one outline the steps necessary to achieve the desirable goals. Of course, one must still ask Hashem for assistance, so that everything goes according to the plan.

10 yo learned a lesson from his taekwondo experience. It might not have been a lesson that I had in mind (and I'm not holding my breath that his distracted ways will change so quickly), but he drew his own conclusions. I also wonder how many lessons I remember due to the kindness of someone who should have been strict with me, instead of having an exact punishment meted out.

"Kids nowadays" and grown-ups at kiddush

The line one always hears, especially from people of a certain age: "Kids nowadays..."

They are rude.
They are loud.
They are pushy.
They get away with everything.

We belong to a small shul. Technically, it's a start-up, so everything is small and DIY type of thing, including kiddush. I like that my kids are involved in setting up for kiddush, and that the woman in charge takes time to think of a weekly theme related to a parsha, making it fun and educational. But more that that, they are vested in setting up and cleaning up.

One of the things that annoyed me to no end about a bigger shul down the road is the total mess of a kiddush. There was a kiddush committee who set up kiddush in advance. I tried volunteering for it years ago, but I was told that I cannot bring my kids, as it would violate sanitary standards. Then, as davening was over, the doors to the social hall were closed until some predetermined time, and the stampede of people and kids stormed the tables, grabbing food like they will never be fed. Five cookies at a time, ten crackers, mounds of vegetables, globs of humms... Moreover, as people and kids finished eating, the food waste was apparent in piles of uneaten food left on plates for the janitorial staff to clean up. I lost my cool when I caught a bar-mitzvah-aged boy pouring soda from his cup straight onto the drinks tablecloth. "What do you think you are doing?!! And who will be cleaning this up?"

http://jewishexponent.com/blog/taking-the-kid-out-of-kiddush

I had high hopes for our smaller chevra (group). The rule is, grown-ups take food first, and then the kids. The place is small, so we are talking about a dozen of people.I hoped that once kids will be responsible for set-up and clean-up, they will not be inclined to make a mess, or waste food. I also hoped that there will not be scarcity, and civilized, well-mannered approach will prevail.

Today I realized that before we complain about kids nowadays, we need to take a look at ourselves. The kids who set up kiddush did politely wait, but the grown-ups disappointed.

It is rude to grab a quarter of a cake for yourself, when not everyone had a slice. It is rude to talk right by the table, blocking everyone else's access. It is rude to ignore the child who does grab half the donuts or candy, and not to stop them and tell them to put some back (I have done that, to my children's chagrin).  And it is rude not to clean up after yourself.

Meanwhile, my kids are being plied with candy and sweets (it is Shabbos!) against my express wishes. No, they do not need more sugar or food coloring, no, they do not need more sweets. And please stop testing willpower of a child by repeatedly offering him a treat. You will not be the one dealing with his refusal to eat lunch, or his off-the-wall behavior later in the day.

You will be walking home, shaking your head, and saying: "Kids nowadays..."

a prisoner of mood swings

We have been having some really great days with 8 yo. No, we have not changed anything that I can say. Daddy has been around a bit more, and they have been horsing around a bit more, but not in any new way. We have not started any medication, supplements or therapy. We have not cut out gluten (although I do try to avoid food coloring and extra sugar, but I am not strict about it). Anyway, it has been almost gloriously smooth.

Until today.

Today we were supposed to go to the nature center for a homeschool day. We have been in the past, and I always wonder how much schoolwork to plan on a day like this. On one hand, it's a field trip, and I get quite tired from it to do anything extra. On the other hand, I find the kids are sitting around, when they could be learning or reviewing something. So I decided to keep it to a minimum.

10 yo was learning mishna right after shacharit, and then I asked him to do one page of math. For 8 yo, who also went to shul, I asked him to do math only, hoping that if my husband comes home early enough, they can do some chumash. 10 yo shrugged and proceeded to math. 8 yo dramatically dropped to the floor, and laid there,  motionless.

Now this was going on as my daughter was pulling out large scissors and glue stick for her project, and 1 yo was diligently dumping books off the bookshelf. I still had to pack our lunch. I had it all laid out, it just had to be placed into the cooler backpack. I knew that if I focused on 1 yo, and read him a book, he would stop, I knew that 4 yo wanted me to read to her, too, only 1 yo kept yanking that book out of my hands. I was getting upset that 8 yo balked at one school thing that he was assigned. Meanwhile, 10 yo was having difficulty with his math, and also needed help.

I found myself helplessly sitting at the table, yelling at 4 yo having scissors where 1 yo can get them, yelling at 10 yo rounding off answers and not showing his work, yelling at 8 yo for being so darn freaking dramatic and not even trying. It might be hard to explain what it feels like to be held hostage by a child's unpredictable mood.

In the end, he sulked off to his room to do his math, 10 yo did not even finish his one page, and I forgot to grab my cellphone. We were running late, and 1 yo was screaming. I shushed and shushed kids in the car, even though they were not doing anything objectively objectionable. We barely made it.

Today's homeschool class involved a Starlab, an inflatable dome onto which the night sky is projected. I knew it was meant for kids ages 5 and up, but I was not sure whether my daughter would stay. (For the purists, she will be five in a month, so this is a technicality). She chose to stay with her brothers to go inside the dome while I took 1 yo out in a stroller to see the beaver in his enclosure.

Later, the kids came out and even did the little prepared crafts. 8 yo was concerned about making a "holiday" craft, which involved pinpricking the stars in a printed constellation and then decorating a frame with nature objects such as acorns, tiny pine cones, seeds and leaves. I said that I do not feel that there is anything wrong with making such a craft.

As the kids were working at various stations, a staff member came up to tell me how much 8 yo knew about the stories of the constellations. I assumed he meant 10 yo, the master talker, but he said, no, the younger one. I asked 8 yo where he learned all these stories; I certainly do not recall teaching him any, or him reading up on the subject matter. He reminded me of the astronomy class he took at the coop last year. Yeah, I definitely do not give this kid enough credit...

Then we drove home, and the math was still looming. 10 yo sat down and did his one problem, incorrectly. Then he moved on to his mishna homework. 8 yo went back to complete meltdown. I told him to step outside. His best response was, Hashem made a mistake in creating me. I said, Hashem does not make mistakes, and you have to be the best kid that you can be.

Soon, it was time to leave for taekwondo. I told the boys to bring their schoolwork, and to do it there, while waiting for their class.10 yo brought his mishna, and the second volume of Harry Potter. Harry Potter won. Meanwhile, 8 yo brought his math binder over. We ended up doing it after his class. He finished the whole page, with very minimal help, in five minutes. As we completed it, I asked, were your fits worth it? He responded, no, and that he is sorry for his behavior.

So here I am, a hostage to my child's moods. I know that I should be a wise parent, rising above such hiccups, I know that I should take a deep breath, hold it together, stay calm and reassuring. But I also know that there is no rhyme or reason to these fits. Today can be horrible, and tomorrow can be sunny. Today can be peachy, and tomorrow the world will be coming to an end. Today I can plan, and carry out, and tomorrow everything will get scrambled. I am flexible, but this is taxing beyond basic flexibility.

a really big heart

This morning, I ran out to get some scarves from a private showing. It is Sunday, and my husband was planing on taking the older kids to Gem and Mineral Show while I was planing to nap 1 yo and organize the sunroom.

When I came back, steam was coming out of my husband's ears, and 8 yo was crying. My husband asked him to do chumash. He did not expect to do chumash today, so he totally melted down. It took them an hour to torture their way through three pesukim. I was just shaking my head. At some point, I volunteered to take 10 yo and 4 yo to the show, while the learners would sit and finish up. However, they did complete it, had brunch, and left.

I got to the point in the sun room where I emptied out all the messy cubbies, and then 1 yo woke up. So now there is a pile of mess on the floor of the sun room, but the cubbies look nice and neat. The pile is bad enough for the kids to ask: what happened here?

But that is not what I want to focus on.

The car pulls up. The kids pile out. 8 yo comes in, beaming: "Mommy, I got you a gift!" I turn around and see that he is holding a tiny jewelry pouch. Inside are little earrings. "Mommy, these are mystic quartz. You irradiate quartz and you get mystic quartz. Mommy, do you like them? I got them for you for doing all those nice things that you do for us. It's nice to get you a present once in a while to say thank you. Mommy, we're having pizza for dinner? I love pizza, thank you for making it."

He leaves the room, and I am speechless and choked up. I am putting on these little studs. My husbands shakes his head: "Where did you get a kid like that?" Then he tells me how 8 yo got a grab bag of stones for 4 yo since she does not have her own money, and he was considering getting me another set of earrings, but that was outside of his price range. 10 yo was upset; he got nothing because he is saving his money. However, he used golden wire and wrapped it around a black polished stone (8 yo's gift to him as a consolation), and presented me with that pendant.

Before they left for the show, when the kids were outside and out of ear shot, I was complaining bitterly to my husband how I cannot take 8 yo's angry outbursts any more, how his hysterics and dramatics leave me drained; how I feel like a hostage to his emotions. Now I feel like the luckiest mom on the face of this earth: I have a sweet, caring kid. Maybe he will not master chumash, maybe he will not be quick with his numbers, but his heart is so firmly in the right place, that I have a thing or two to learn from him.

morning rush

8 am dentist appointment

If you are a homeschooler, you are groaning already, just from reading a previous line.

Two weeks ago, I saw a dental appointment written into my planner. Six months ago, when I made it, it was perfectly clear (or I was too rushed to make a full note) who the appointment was meant for, but now, I just could not remember whether it was my cleaning, or the kids' dentist. My husband was also telling me how our dental coverage is running out at the end of the month, so whoever the appointment was for, another one would have to be scheduled before the month was out.

I guessed it was for the kids, so I called their dentist. Turns out it was for me, but the receptionist was able to squeeze all three of them into one morning slot. The only hitch was, it was 8 am slot.

My kids are generally early risers. The only one whom I ever have to wake up is 8 yo, and I try not to resort to that often, But what my kids do with their early morning does not involve rushing out the door. They lounge on the couch. They read. The eat slow bowls of breakfast. They unload the dishwasher. They decide whether to toast bagels, and how long to spend on spreading them with cream cheese. They learn how to make tea for themselves and mommy's coffee. And then, when the breakfast time is over, they get dressed and daven. We pit a premium on slow morning pace. Even with all that, we are usually ready to start on schoolwork by 9 am, earlier for 10 yo.

This morning, we would have to be there by 8 am. My kids love their dentist, and the office. They did not stall, but getting out the door that quickly was turning into a nightmare. I found myself constantly hustling them along: Eat already! Go brush your teeth! Why are you not dressed yet? Do you have enough time to daven? The height of ridiculousness was reached when I found myself saying: put on your feet! They all burst out laughing.


Then we got to the car and I found it covered in a layer of frost. The scraper was inside the house, and I literally did not have those extra five minutes for the car to properly defrost. I started driving, and then, with the sun shining on the ice crystals (which were beautiful, by the way, but I had no time to reflect on their beauty), I realized that I am driving without any visibility. We ended up stopping and I used the flat back of a tube of lotion to scrape a spot big enough to see.

People always think how homeschooling is so hard. I say, getting out of the house with all the kids early every morning is hard! I actually wonder whether part of the reason people resent spending time with their kids has to do with constant rushing and constant keeping up with the schedule. I heard of people putting their kids to sleep in clothes for the next day, or sending them to school with a granola bar because there is no time for breakfast. I heard of people dragging half-asleep kids out of bed to school because, well, they have to go! And what if they are late, and get enough sleep, and take their time? What if there is no time crunch?

I was thinking this morning how if I had to do this every single morning, I would go crazy. I would resent my kids, and they would resent me. It's a cliche about homeschoolers sleeping in  (and then doing school in their pajamas), but there is more to it than a simple laziness. It's a reflection of a different, calmer lifestyle. It's a progressive step in parenting. It's an adventure in self-regulation.

viduy

Some days I wonder: why do we homeschool? Wouldn't they all be better off in their respective classrooms, with peers and trained teachers? They certainly wouldn't be spending their time flying remote control helicopters, bickering, reading random pieces of paper lying around, doodling...

And then we have a good experience, and I know that it could not have happened if they were in school.

Last night I talked on the phone to a mother of a former classmate of 10 yo. She was consulting about potentially homeschooling her son; the bullying situation in school got unbearable and the child did not want to go to school in the morning. Moreover, the bullying was done by a kid who was supposedly a good friend, which made it even more devastating.

I sort of told it over to my 10 yo, telling him to watch out for this boy in shul, and to be nice to him. His response: "Why would they bully him? He even wears the same kippa as everyone else, not like me!" Oh, I so wish that everything would be that easy, and that every kid would look around and see no faults in others.

Today I finally sat 10 yo down to go over Yom Kippur Amida. Being an insane person (or overly ambitious), I have just given a class for women on the basic structure of Yom Kippur davening, so it felt funny that I prepared and taught this material to others, while my kid would be in the dark.

He had seen Rosh HaShana Amidah, so the beginning parts were easy. He chose to use Metsudah machzor which has translation side by side. I pointed out the differences in the Kedushat Hayom, and he sort of listened, sort of rolled his eyes. Then we got to viduy. He said, I know what it is: ashamnu, bagadnu... I read and translated the preliminary bit, and then he read each word of the acrostic. I focused on how Hashem knows everything, and how we might not even be aware that we have sinned. We read over most of the rest of viduy, and he got very serious and very sad. I saw that he was taking this all close to heart. I explained that Hashem forgives our sins, as long as we confess them sincerely. Hashem erases our sins, and they lift like smoke. He was teary-eyed, and he said that he is aware of how many mean things he has done. I told him to remember that sincere teshuva is accepted. I also told him that people who used to sin and then stop and repent are held in higher regard than people who never sinned.


I was starting to think that maybe I overdid it with viduy, until it was time to go to Costco, and the boys returned to their old cheerful selves, ramming each other with the carts. At that point, I was almost wondering whether any of this stuck, until he asked me, later on in the day, wouldn't it be embarrassing to recite viduy out loud, so that everyone would hear your sins? I said that people say it in unison, not too loudly, unless one's sins are well-known, and then they can be recited.

I do not know whether going over viduy is on a curriculum for 5th grade yeshiva. That brought me back to a question asked by a parent last night: how do I test my kids to make sure they are keeping up? I said that I do not do testing beyond state requirements, and I do not worry about keeping up. I worry about the level of each individual child. I felt that 10 yo is ready to be familiarized with the structure of Amidah, and that he was ready to take a closer look at viduy. What I do know, if those boys who are so abusive to her son would have had a sincere experience of sitting down with a parent, going over viduy, and thinking how their actions affect others, and how they will have to ask for forgiveness in just one more day, I bet the bullying situation would not have been so bad.

In the meanwhile, I ache for this boy and his intolerable situation. I ache for my kids who are not getting the calmest parent and the best education possible. I ache for the dayschool system which does not allow kids to blossom outside of a very narrow definition. I ache for the kids who will go into Yom Kippur and come out exactly the same way because nobody took the time to make it meaningful. I ache for mothers who resent having their kids home the whole Yom Kippur. I ache for the mothers who will try to make Yom Kippur meaningful, yet will feel that they do not live up to some impossible standard of self-sacrifice if they do not manage to daven AND feed everyone AND break up the fights AND keep the kids quiet because daddy came home to take as nap.

I ache for the sin of superficiality pervading Jewish community.

May this Yom Kippur strip all the veneer and reach deep into your heart.

on going to school

I am sending 8 yo to school next year.

By "next year" I mean next month. I have completed online application, submitted the paperwork, and I am now waiting for the "screening" before the acceptance.

It has not been easy. It has been hard. Those who spoke to me in the past two months know that I considered all different options. I tried many different things with this child. I thought about what I can do and what I want to do.

There wasn't one moment of clarity when it was obvious that he should be going to school. There wasn't a moment that cinched it. Instead, there was this slow realization that I am unable to teach him in whichever way I try. By now, I got to the point that I did not feel like trying any more.

I look at my daughter. She scribbles lists in her notepad. She tells me which letters the words start with. She wants to be shown how to write. She stops me to ask where is any particular word that I read. She is even-tempered and pleasant. She copes with her mistakes and corrects herself. She is eager to learn. I look at her and see that she is a product of my efforts to provide a stimulating and encouraging learning environment.

I look at 8 yo. How can this child be so different? How can he be so helpful, so pleasant, so caring, and then switch to being so impossibly hard? He does not want to learn, not from me, not anything that I deem important. He will not even try. Moreover, I end up engaged in an emotional confrontation, sapping all my energy. He does not gain, and I lose.

At some point, when I was considering sending both boys to school ( 10 yo is no angel either), somebody asked me: if you believe in the principles of homeschooling as ideal education, aren't you selling out? Well, I am still committed to the idea of homeschooling, but I am running out of stamina. And I have looked at how much of my energy is devoted solely to 8 yo, and how that adversely affects the rest of the family, and I realized that I do not have any more energy to give. It is not fair to the rest of us.

So 8 yo is going to school. I have used this threat as a possibility before, so at first he thought I was bluffing. When he realized that this time it's for real, he got upset. He does not want to go. He thinks he will not like it. He will miss out on all the fun things we are doing. He is worried about being held behind and about being stared at. I do listen to him, and I do commiserate, but I am firm at this point. As much as it feels that I am giving up on him, I feel like I am opening up a new vista here, both for him and for me. He can lead a life totally separate from his idolized brother. I can plan activities to do with 10 yo without worrying whether the younger one will participate, or take the whole time throwing a tantrum so that I will not have time and energy to work with the other kids. It is a new perspective, being able to plan and stick to it rather than wait for the next explosion.

While we are on the subject of school, I am thinking of sending my daughter to playgroup a few times per week. She is the one who really wants to go to school, and she loves the company of other kids. She is having a grand time in camp, and when she comes home, she sings songs, talks about what she did and name-drops her friends. I hope that being in a playgroup two days a week would satisfy her need for sociability and for the environment geared to her age. Now, don't get me wrong, on the first day of camp she was mistaken for a 1st grader, so assuredly and maturely she carried herself (she is 4). I know that all comes from being around older kids, but her older kids happen to be brothers, who do not want to make little projects and who are not excited about glitter and tracing letters.

I am also looking into some sort of assistance with 1 yo. Maybe a part-time babysitter, maybe his own playgroup. He is still so little, and he still nurses, so I am not even sure how this would all work. However, I am pleased to see that slowly different pieces are falling into place.

Now we only need to make sure that 8 yo is accepted, and that the cure is not worse than the disease.

P.S. I am saving the financial burden that is slowly dawning on us for another post.

overparenting and kiddush Hashem

We went on a nature hike today with a bunch of other homeschoolers. I drove there with a friend and her son. In the car, we were talking about parenting nowadays and how it is so hard: you feel guilty for not hovering over your kid the entire time, you feel guilty for not signing up your kid for every single wonderful and fulfilling activity under the sun, you feel guilty about feeding them random food, you feel guilty about them watching too much TV and not producing Pinterest-worthy projects together. Somehow, parenting becomes a hard chore instead of a pleasure. Somehow the kids are always supervised. Somehow, the definition of a good mother is synonymous with helicopter.

A few days ago we were in a casual restaurant. There were two moms eating out, with their kids. The moms were obviously very excited to catch up with each other. The kids, dressed to the nines in matching white outfits, were getting quite restless since the moms have been catching up for a while. One of the girls took a styrofoam cup and sat with it on the floor, ripping it to pieces. She shredded it. Another one dropped her half-finished food. The moms kept on talking. Eventually they got up and left, with styrofoam pieces strewn all over the floor, and the food splatters under the table. As they were leaving, a Mexican worker surveyed the damage, got out the broom, and started mopping up. I said to my husband: what a chillul Hashem!

I do not hover over my kids. I do not get them dressed in matching outfits. I do not watch every move and fret about every choice. But if my kid makes a mess in a public space, he will have to clean it up. It is not a very fancy definition of kiddush Hashem, but not leaving a giant mess for the restaurant workers means a whole lot more than having your kids appear all well-groomed. If a kid of mine gets into a scuffle, I am assuming that he is to blame, and he will have to apologize or work it out.

It is time to take a giant step back and figure out what are the important values to convey to our kids. Is it the outwardly appearance, or is it internal values? If the kids' middot are emphasized, eventually (I hope) there will be no need to hover and fix and smooth everything for them; they will be able to take care of these matters satisfactorily on their own.