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.

Morning tefila

Dear G-d,

Give me wisdom today to spend my energy where it matters, where it will be nourishing.

Give me room to make mistakes and a space for forgiveness. Give me the perspective to acknowledge the mistakes of others. Give me the strength to hear the truth, even if it hurts, even if it feels like a betrayal, even if it lets me down.

Give me space to breathe. Give me expanse to be myself, feed my soul-sustaining food, find time for my interests.

Give me clarity on what is important, what is essential, and what is the chaff, fleeting, temporary.

Give me peace and serenity.
Give me the ability to be content.

Dear G-d. please send this to me, and to all others who need it.

Thank you.

davening at the gate

I had a twenty-four-hour whirlwind out of town trip for a wedding. I went solo. No children, no schedules, no reminders. It was jam-packed with reunions and a whole lot of talking for an introvert.
Yet as I was waiting to board an early morning flight back home, I opened up a siddur app to daven. Oh, I did say brachot on the flight in, but it was more in my usual tone of mechanical mumbling in the desire to discharge my obligation of tefila before I eat. On this trip back, I found myself wanting to daven, wanting to find the meaning behind well-worn familiar words. No, I did not say more than birchot hashahar since I was waiting at the gate. However, even that five-minute tefila had a different flavor than what I usually end up doing.

I keep on thinking how few positive and uplifting davening experiences I have. There was unbelievable davening in Israel, that I attributed to being surrounded by people who understand the words and mean them. There was my intense desire to daven at the Kotel because in the presence of those ancient stones a different mood comes over me. I want to pour my heart out. There was Rosh haShana tefila that I cried over this year, asking and beseeching Hashem to please give me a good year and prolong life. I think that was influenced by my belief that I am surrounded by a caring congregation. That illusion has since fallen away. I cannot daven in a place of hypocrisy. I have been having hard time going to shul, simply physically entering the building. I have attended a few bar mitzvahs, but I cannot fake a tefila.

So what do I need to daven?

• removal from the ordinary
• brain space away from children
• a feeling of security and trust
• a heartache
• a space to organize my thoughts

I do not know the answer to the biggest personal theological question: why did I end up in this pickle? Why did we end up in a community where the rabbi and the shul are the major obstacles to prayer and halachik observance? Why did Hashem lead us on this path?

And what do I tell my children about G-d and prayer? How can I lead them by example when I do not feel comfortable in shul and cannot model "good davening behavior"? I know I am modeling integrity, but I do not know if my kids know or appreciate the full extent of my dilemma.

yoga

I attended a yoga class today.

I have not been to yoga since last spring. We are JCC members and that membership includes free group classes. I was very excited when we moved here to finally get to work out, take care of myself, get in shape, release the worries, feel healthy. But then summer came, with all the kids staying home. And then school year rolled around, with carpools and sick kids and multiple commitments and more appointments that I care to talk about. And somehow fitness slipped. My children have been enrolled in multiple JCC sports classes: swimming, gymnastics, tennis. Me? I have barely made it there to pick them up.

Then you see a psychiatrist for your child and she insists on removing him from the room and telling you that you need to manage your anxiety. You have to take care of yourself. Your husband should cook you a nice dinner and give you a break. You exit. When you are done crying about things in your life that you cannot control, people who will not change, lack of support, you think that going to a yoga class is sort of imperative. Another article floats your way and look, breathing and exercise and yoga help with anxiety. A therapist is teaching your child to take a deep breath. You so wanted to be that teacher, but despite all the directions you have pushed yourself, your air mask is not on as you are fumbling to put on your child's. This blog has been very quiet. I have not been breathing.

Today I ended up with a few hours' break in between activity drop-off and pick-up. I did not go grocery shopping or came up with a million other errands that could (should?) have been done, I headed to JCC yoga class.

https://static1.squarespace.com/static/58ffef07c534a5a340384c55/t/59a6e231893fc02cee000e83/1504109225950/The+Yoga+Loft+-+Titusvile+Yoga+Loft+Titusville+Yoga+Studio+Titusville+Yoga+Class+2018.jpg?format=1500w

Yoga is like Chabad: come as you are, no judgment. You stayed away for awhile, but we sure are glad you are back. Practice what you feel comfortable, but here is an extension if you want to push yourself further. Take a breath in, feel the warmth. You do a certain breathing pattern and a warmth grows. There is even mysticism behind it, for those so inclined. Let go of your expectations, accept your limitations. Know that many limitations are just in your mind. Do you feel good when you are done? Do you feel rejuvenated and accepting of yourself and others? Come again when you can.

I feel a little bit sad that I cannot find that kind of meaning, reach this state of mind in traditional Judaism. My prayer is shot by multiple curveballs, by too many people dying, by not understanding how I have to wait for the good in something that is so bad. (Incidentally, today is four year anniversary since a Chabad rebbitzen passed away Her legacy of Torah and Tea did not continue in my community, but I gained two friends who have moved more "intown" since her passing. It's a pathetically thin silver lining to a tragedy that her death must still be to her orphaned children.) When I was undergoing my treatment, ten years ago, something happened to my tefillah and the wide-eyed naive belief just left. It was not even cynisism, it was more like a brick wall. I get glimpses of meaningful prayer here and there, but it is rarely sustained. I felt visceral closeness to Hashem while in Israel, but there is no plan to make aliyah. I prayed sincerely and on fire this past Rosh HaShana, hoping that I finally found a shul, a rabbi and a community where I can be comfortable, pouring my heart out to Hashem over a new heartache. While the answer to the pain was a slow and hesitant "yes", the shul and the rabbi have since dropped off my list of places where I can push myself to get close to Hashem. How can I daven with kavanah when it is business as usual despite evidence and allegations that should shake most people to their moral core? How can I be told that shechinah resides over such a congregation where there is no transparency, no safety, no plan for moving forward, but just lies and sweeping everything under the rug? Unfortunately, I can enter the shul building, but I cannot connect to Hashem there.

I wanted to connect to Hashem intellectually, through learning. However, even that path remains closed. Maybe I lack commitment, maybe I need to keep on searching and prioritizing opportunities, but I know that in order to feel closeness and connection, one needs focus.

For better or for worse, yoga it is for now. I stretched, I flowed, I thought, I did.
I came out better than I went in.
I do not feel anxious now.
I can breathe.

Manic Wednesday

I knew today was going to be insane. I forgot that I will have to drive the kids to preschool in the morning. That means getting the baby dressed and fed by 8:30, getting myself ready at the same time, helping 6 yo and 3 yo pack their lunches (they decided that they want to pack them) and shoving everyone out the door. The total driving takes an hour in the morning, so I am not back till 9:30. At 10, we leave for the coop. The baby falls asleep on the way back home. Her nap schedule is changing, and she is not so little any more to fall asleep in the car any time I drive. However, she is asleep and I transfer her into the house for a half an hour nap.

I get my lunch in order, and discover that boys did not pack theirs. They scramble for something, and I overlook that there is probably not enough food, and no fresh growing things were harmed in lunch packing. I sit 11 yo down to do chumash. As I was walking out the door this morning, he asked me whether Moshe glimpsed more of Hashem, or Yehezkel. I tell him that Yakov also saw Hashem "face to face" and there is an idea that a maidservant at the Red Sea saw more of Hashem than Yehezkel. (He knows that Hashem does not have a body, so it is not a physical revelation we are talking about.) I tell him that he can look up these places and see if he can order them somehow according to the fullness of revelation. But he did not do it, and I was not there to look them up with him. Instead, he prepared new pesukim, but I want him to do a Rashi on when exactly Moshe was setting up his mysterious personal tent of meeting. He sees the size of that Rashi and rolls not only his eyes, but his whole body. I admit, I am a bit intimidated by the length even with English translation, but I decided that we will diagram it into a timeline, and it will help in ordering the rest of the events. So he pulls himself together and reads. He can translate the whole thing. I diagram every new fact and time frame that we encounter. By the time we are done, it is 10:04. The baby wakes up, 9 yo informs me that we did not get to his chumash and he did prepare it, and 11 yo whines that we never did get to new pesukim, ugh. I grab the baby, grab a change of clothes, grab a few extra diapers, grab my lunch and get out the door.

We get to the coop on time. I nurse the baby. The boys are in their lego robotics class. They are loving it. In fact, when the class is over, they often linger well into the twenty minute break. Finally, they come out. I am pushing baby on the swings, and she is cooing and giggling away. I think how 3 yo hated swings, held on for his dear life. I think how he needed PT to walk and I was told that he had bad trunk control. I worry about this baby not crawling properly on her knees, she scoots on her behind or slides on her belly. But she must have decent trunk control. Or maybe she is fearless? Either way, it would be nice not to have worry about another late walker. While I am pushing her, the boys come to demonstrate the back flip off the swing that their friend taught them. It looks smooth, but it must be terrifying. They practice to do it together.

back flip off the swing

Their second class is on bridge structures. A lot of kids are absent, so the boys get out early. I ask 9 yo whether he would be able to do his prepared chumash with me off my phone (Beta Midrash app). he says that he can do it after lunch. Meanwhile I bump into a mom friend from the other location of the coop. We chat a bit, and then she asks me about 9 yo's behavioral issues. I tell her how I feel very done, defeated. She throws around a few suggestions, tells me to read, we commiserate over hard kids. "Have you prayed about it? Have you had him pray about it?" I stop, whirling. I am supposed to be davening about this kid. I barely get through brachot most mornings, hoping that nobody produces a poopy diaper and cuts my two minutes of organized prayer short. I do ask Hashem every day to help me not yell at my kids, but that has not been very successful. However, while I have taught 9 yo to daven and even told him where to insert his personal requests, I never thought to tell him to daven regarding his behavior.

A light bulb goes off in my head. "Thank you, I really have not thought about that."
"Oh, that's funny. I'm an atheist. But if it would help..."
And then we spend a few minutes chatting how prayer is about gathering your thoughts and reflections and getting clarity in formulating the requests. Did I mention how much I love my coop?

I do catch 9 yo later. "Chumash time?" He sits down next to me and we do his three review pesukim and three new pesukim. He gets worried for a moment that he cannot do them without his binder where he writes new words, but then changes his mind and goes through without a hitch. We are at Dina's rape and not exactly easy material that I want to be covering in the park. He might not even understand what exactly happened to Dina. He notices that after famously being called Leah's daughter, by the time Chamor gets to her, she is Yacov's daughter. Rashi does not comment. 9 yo also thought that Dina was pining for Chamor, so we had to set that straight. But he is done and gone.

At 2 pm, we get in the car to go and pick up 6 yo and 3 yo from preschool. 3 yo needs more diapers. He is not potty-trained yet, and he is at the stage where he wants underwear, but will have nothing to do with a toilet. I much rather deal with diapers than wiping up messes that he made and then tried to clean up on his own. Must remember to send more diapers to school.

bubbles in the museum

I drive the kids to the natural history museum that we rejoined last week. We have picture day at taekwondo, but that does not start till 4, and I do not want to go home for half an hour and then battle the traffic. The museum is just a few minutes away from the dojang, and 3 yo and 6 yo have not been there when we went last week. At 3:15, the parking lot is emptying out. We have the whole place to ourselves, even though there are still two hours till closing. The younger kids do not remember this place at all. I think 3 yo was not even born last time we were members. They ooh and aah over the dinosaur skeletons in the lobby. I warn the kids that we will only be here for an hour, but we will come back another time. Meanwhile, the baby has a dirty diaper and needs to nurse. I find a nursing room and leave 3 yo with the older kids, bur he decides that he wants to be with me, so he runs away, screaming. Then, as I am changing the baby, he runs out, looking for the boys. I sigh and finish the diaper change. 3 yo comes back since he did not find them. I need to nurse and I am in what is technically a nursing room. There is no bathroom, just a rocking chair, a changing table, and a locking door. There are some books and puzzles. I lock the door and sit down to nurse. 3 yo melts down, he does not want to be confined. I talk to him how he wants to get out so badly. I suggest looking at books or the puzzles. He tells me how everything is yucky, but he calms down.

I have mixed feelings about these nursing rooms. It is surely nice that museum provides them. They have nursing mothers in mind, and this one does not have a toilet in it, so it is designated exclusively for nursing. When 6 yo was nursing, I would give such set-up unconditional thumbs up. Yet now I feel that it is almost wrong to tuck nursing mothers away, in another room, far from the exhibits and the rest of the family. I nurse in public with a cover-up and if we really want to encourage breastfeeding, why are we putting moms away? Besides. that room did not have good ventilation, and it stunk of dirty diapers, my baby's included. Then I had to go and find an actual bathroom to wash my hands... somebody thought of this room as a PR gimmick, not as a service.

My kids delight in the museum. I thought it would be a bit boring for the boys, but they are eating it up. I get to stand back and watch all four of the older ones engage in their own ways. These outings are what we do the best. But I have to hustle everyone out since we still need to get to taekwondo and get pictures taken.

waiting for taekwondo picture

I almost chose not to go this year. We only did this once in the past, and I don't want to spend the money on the pictures. But now that I am doing taekwondo too, I want a picture of myself with the boys. Who knows how long I will keep it up? It can all change due to scheduling conflicts, but we can pull it off this year. I tell 6 yo that she will be in charge of her sister while we are getting photographed. What I did not account for was the slow-moving line. We spend time waiting. I take the baby out and let her crawl. She grabs boys' kipas off their heads. 3 yo is running around in circles. I keep on hoping that our turn will come soon. Finally, we get posed and photographed. I told the boys that we are only buying one group shot, not the individual poses. They are disappointed, but not too badly. Then we wait on second line, to select the images and the background. I talked boys out of the flaming background as being too busy. We agreed on something with a tiger in the back. My understated self cringes. Finally, we have to pick the best image. I look at myself: slouching, double chin, tired eyes. I do not look good. I do not look fierce, I do not look like I have this covered, like we are having fun. The boys look nice in almost every shot. I gently steer them towards the least tired-looking image. The baby is screeching and complete strangers are handing her toys that she tossed overboard. Meanwhile 6 yo is protecting her brother from another kid who keeps coming up and doing monster hands in their faces. I hustle everyone out to the car and drive home.

3 yo refuses to be buckled by his brothers and complains about burritos that are for dinner. Waze would not work to direct us home in the fastest way possible. It is 5:30 and the baby is not happy. We pull in and I get into my frenzy mode for everyone to unload the car and carry in more that one little item. I always seem to have my hands literally full with the baby, cups, bags, and keys. I always leave something in the house that belongs in the car and vise versa. We get in and I start dinner: defrosted burritos go on the frying pan,  defrosted corn on the cob goes in the pot, leftover coleslaw to round it off. If I would be any more organized, I would be freaking Marth Stewart. Nobody eats soup except for the baby, 3 yo, and me. 3 yo melts down because his burrito unrolled and the insides spilled out. I cannot help him, since I am seated across the table, feeding the baby. 11 yo asks some deep and meaningful questions about the nature of school and why isn't everyone homeschooled. I try to respond, but it is impossible to keep the conversation going.

My husband is on call overnight, so I am on my own. The baby throws dinner off her high chair tray. I have a Smirnoff Ice and immediately feel my face flushing. It happened with wine before, but I assumed that it was sulfites. I cannot be allergic to alcohol, can I? 6 yo cannot find "Wizard of Oz" that we are reading for a good night story. 3 yo's singing siddur does not work. "It needs new batteries!" I ask for a miniature screwdriver, but it does not fit. The baby does not settle down easily. By the time I finish washing up the dishes and sit down on the couch, it occurs that we did not do new pesukim or the megilah today. 11 yo: "You look tired." I feel tired.

And the crazy part is, this day does not strike me as out of the ordinary. Why am I masterminding this craziness?

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.

Great mercy--every day

It's 11:16 at night and I should really be heading off to bed. These past couple weeks have been hard. I was telling myself: first Purim, then Pesach, then baby, but it is all scrambled now. I had to order Pesach products before Purim, and then I realized that putting off preparing for the baby till after Pesach is not smart: there is simply not enough time. On top of it all, I signed up both boys to take ITBS (standardized tests) with a homeschool group a week before Pesach. So now we are stressing over test prep. 8 yo lovingly abbreviated it to T.P. and 10 yo immediately deciphered this acronym into a more familiar form. I am finding all this math material that we did not cover yet. 10 is fudging his way through, 8 yo is melting down.

I remarked to my husband how now would be a good time for a summer break, or complete unschooling (coming shortly with our new arrival), or some sort of change. Obviously, trying to make Pesach on top of all of this is not enough. Oh, and all the kids need new shoes, both sneakers and shabbos shoes. 10 yo asked me the other day about four symmetrical holes in the sole of his sneaker, swearing up and down how he did not puncture it with a nail. I explained that it happened because he wore his shoe clear through the sole. And all boys need haircuts.

After much soul-searching, we have applied to Montessori Chabad school for 5 yo and 2 yo for next year. Now there is more and more paperwork to be filled out. And now there are finances to stress about.

The kids have not been on their best behavior. I have not been most patient. We are all stressed, only we all react to stress differently.

Just as I feel ready to throw in the towel (not on homeschooling, but on picking things up off the floor, or checking schoolwork at 11 pm, or trying to print from an uncooperative computer), it strikes me that tomorrow Hashem will return my soul to me, almost as a new being, and I will have a chance to start over again. I cannot promise that I say Mode Ani every morning with the most kavanah ( and I cannot promise that my kids do it, either), but this realization that tomorrow is another day, and tomorrow can be different, buoys me into putting a little bit more effort into planning HOW to make tomorrow different.

Nasa.gov

• Don't yell.
• Don't grump.
• Take a breath before reacting to a situation.
• Explain instead of expecting.
• Go outside.

I will see how it goes. I have to return my soul to Hashem to see which gifts will be bestowed upon me in the morning.

mindfulness

Being mindful.

http://www.robertswoap.com/tag/mindfulness/

Davening with kavanah.

Making time to notice small things.

Meditation.

Focusing with intent.

All these lovely terms are thrown around all the time, and are so important. We all need to take that time in the day to breathe, to think, to be ourselves, to ask ourselves what's important, to calm down, to connect to G-d, to clarify priorities. Yet, how is one supposed to go about achieving any of these?

In Judaism, women are not obligated in time-bound commandments, such as structured prayer three times a day. Women are not obligated to wear tefillin, which is a time-bound mitzvah. Some consider this to be sexist, and I have known feminist-leaning friends who, while considering themselves orthodox, do put on tefillin. But they tend to be younger, unmarried, and without kids. They are agents of their own day, of their own time. If they sleep in and miss the proper time, it is due to their own negligence.

Yesterday I managed to wake up before anyone else in my household. I crept out in darkness, turned on laptop and browsed for prenatal yoga videos. I have two DVDs with prenatanl yoga, but each runs closer to 45 minutes, which I knew I did not have. I found a free, streaming 20 minute video, turned the volume down, laid out my mat, and prepared to breathe and stretch, to calm my mind, to focus. Exactly four minutes in, just as I closed my eyes and centered my breath, 1 yo woke up. If you think it is possible to do yoga from a laptop with a 1 yo, I invite you to try. He will either bang on the keyboard, or sit on me. More likely, he will try to pull the yoga mat from under me. I hastily disassembled and picked him up.

I tried saying brachot (morning blessings), which I do say every day, but usually somebody decides that it is a perfect time to talk to me, or grab my back, or stand on the couch and moan along.

Even bentching is not safe. I try to say it slower, with intent of thankfulness for the meal and connection to G-d, but yesterday, as 1 yo heard me bentching, first he ran over, excited, with a bentcher and then he proceeded to declare: "Poopy! Change diaper!" while itching his backside and tugging at my skirt. Dear offspring, don't you see that mommy is in need of her moment of mindfulness here? Don't you appreciate the kind of halachic problem you are creating?

But the offspring is oblivious. The offspring is little and needy and self-centered. The offspring needs hugs and attention, the offspring clamors for connection. And the offspring takes precedence over mommy's mindfulness.

How do you find time to focus and center yourself?

no reason to worry

My daughter is reading. Yes, we have been doing a Bob book here and there (she is on fifth book in the first set, I believe), and yes, I knew that she could sound out first letter of 8 yo's spelling words, and yes, I have been pointing out words that she asked me about. But I did not expect that she is much further along.

My future SIL gave her a set of sticker books for Chanukah. They are pretty simple, with sticker outline in the book and a sticker on a separate piece of paper. However, there are words under the outlines, telling which sticker goes there. I saw that she was reading/guessing some of those. Of course she did not know how to blend two consonants, or "e at the end makes the vowel say its name", but she was motivated enough to try to figure those out. Unfortunately, all of this was taking place in 20 minutes before I had to leave for taekwondo, so we parted in the middle of this activity. I should also mention a certain young man who was busily trying to peel off stickers and rip up the whole exercise. Before today, I spent a fair amount of time beating myself up for not reading those Bob books consistently.

Yesterday, I took three older kids bike riding. 4 yo inherited her brother's bike, which is sort of big. My husband attached training wheels. This was second or third time that she was riding it. She was so not sure of herself at the beginning, with boys zooming right ahead into the park and then returning to hustle us along. She was worried about going too fast. She was worried about not making it up the incline. She kept braking and stopping "to breathe". Considering the size of the park, I almost asked her whether she wanted to put the bike back in the car and simply walk. Yet she persevered. We made it to the playground, and there, after swinging and playing for a few minutes, she got back on her bike, to practice some more.

By the time we were done, she was quite a pro. She even started talking about taking off those training wheels. All of this blossoming of confidence and mastery took place over less than two hours.

1 yo is talking. He was quite a quiet baby, lots of expression, but almost no words for a long time. He got just about everything he wanted by pointing, saying "this", and making incoherent sounds. For a while, he would not imitate words being spoken to him. All my other kids started speaking pretty early or on time, so he was definitely behind. He was constantly being spoken to, and read to, so exposure was not the concern. Yet, over the course of a past month, his vocabulary exploded. I am not even keeping track of how many words he has, but all those words spoken to him are there. He has word combination, idioms, fragments of speech. His speech is purposeful and clear. I have no more reason to worry.

8 yo has been saying "al hanisim" the entire Chanukah. I know it was hard for him, as we read over it together a few times and he was not fluent. I was discussing with my husband how his chumash has not been happening over the course of a past week, but he pointed out that he is clearly working on all this davening. He has been going to shul, saying the entire shemone esre, and participating in shabbos mincha and maariv. The other day, he got to say birchot hashachar for the congregation. He glowed like a million bucks, although he said that it was no big deal. For a child who cannot sit still through long davening, all this hard work is taking place on his terms.

As parents, it is so easy  to look at all those other kids, and worry. It is easy to worry about kids walking, and talking, and reading, and mastering Judaics, and developing middos. It is easy to give up, thinking that kids will never say "please" without prompting, or they will never grasp algebra, or get to gemara, or stop harassing their sibling. Yet, one of the beauties of doing homeschooling ( or just spending so many darn freaking hours) with a child is the slow realization that most of these things will happen in their proper time, on child's terms. My job as a parent is to be a guide, and a support. I do not need to constantly cheer them on, I do not need to bribe or harass them. I do not need to punish them. I do not need to reward them, either. I just need to be present, available for help or consultation as it is solicited.

I need not worry.

meaningful Rosh HaShana

a fish names gefilte

I spoke too soon about waiting for next year to have a meaningful Yamim Noraim ( Days of Awe).

We went to shul, but not our regular shul. Our regular shul does not have babysitting for all ages and for the whole service, so we go to the other shul. 9 yo was unhappy to be missing his regular shabbos groups, but he did not seem interested to be in shul either. I got all the kids for shofar and then they went back to babysitting. Later I found out that 9 yo snuk out, because he was telling me about seeing people bow down on the floor for Aleinu.

I am always berating myself for not producing enough rich and meaningful experiences on Shabbos and chagim. Being a baalat teshuva, I have this nagging feeling that if only I knew how to capture that spirit, that moment, that opportunity for growth and spirituality, my kids would want to enjoy shabbos and yom tov more. I fret a lot about losing that yom tov feeling, not being in a zone and how that affects my kids. Then we'll have some sort of experience and I see that, somehow, we've still got it.

Yesterday morning, seemingly out of the blue, 9 yo asked me to forgive him for all that he has done wrong. It seemed very sincere, so I dropped everything, walked over to him, hugged him and said that I forgive him. I apologized to him for yelling at him so much, and he forgave me. It was a very sweet moment, almost Hallmark-y. Seeing this, 7 yo got agitated and said that he does not feel like it's Rosh HaShana and he does not know how to daven and he cannot daven. I think he was not ready to ask for forgiveness, or the need to ask for forgiveness did not hit him the same way, but he had hard time expressing it.

Later, when Shabbos already started, somehow the calendar discussion came up. This year, just by looking at the wall calendar, 7 yo figured out that Rosh HaShana is on rosh chodesh, and he's getting a really big kick out of it. Then we started talking about the days between Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur and somehow the conversation segued into what it takes to do teshuva (to repent). I started going over the steps and asked for an example of a sin. 7 yo piped in: "You bought an etrog from a bad city". I guess he was listening closely to his brother's mishna lesson! We tried coming up with a more pertinent example, but the boys were running wild with worshiping idols or killing people or other, quite severe and inapplicable actions. My husband suggested hitting your brother, which hit a bit too close to home, as 9 yo asked not to use the word "you" in an example. We settled on a kid ice skating and tripping other people up, just for fun.

Finally I thought we got to the steps. I said that first you have to realize that you are sinning, then you need to stop sinning, then you have to apologize to people whom you've tripped up (people that you caused to die came up AGAIN, the gruesomeness factor is just off the charts) and then you have to say viduy (personal verbal confession). 9 yo wanted to find out what you say in that confession, so I opened up a linear machzor and showed him. He read it with great interest and kept on reading, but after a page he wanted to know where is the end. I explained how viduy contains all possible ways in which people could be sinning and that's why it is so long, to jog your memory to anything specific.

7 yo kept talking about the scales before Hashem and how he hopes that his scales tip crazily towards merit. 9 yo wanted to know whether it is better to do one mitzvah, or to remove an aveirah. In this manner, sometimes solemn, sometimes silly, but totally spontaneous, we established the spirit of Yamim Noraim.

next year it might be different

9 yo has his own g-mail account. I sometimes send him messages there.

A few days ago I sent him an e-mail asking whether he would like to go through Rosh haShana shemone esre, now that he says weekday one all the time. Last year I showed him the basic structure, but he was not davening the full shemone esre yet, so he could not appreciate fully the changes and additions.

Yesterday I got his response: "No thanks."

Oh well, there is always another year. There is always a very long Rosh HaShana davening and maybe he will look inside the siddur then. Good thing I did not spend hours preparing and fantasizing about how lovely it will be, mother and son, sitting down and learning all about Rosh HaShana.

spontaneous learning

I was on an organizing kick, which led to a huge mess on the floor. I was pulling out all the books that the boys are not using from their cubbies. One of them was Yahadus textbook I got at the conference last year. It was browsed here and there, but it could be on a general reference shelf, not taking up space in a crowded cubby of 9 yo.

As I am trying to get to the computer tonight, I almost trip over 7 yo reading this Yahadus book. I am rubbing hands internally: see, I just need to leave it out, and they will come! Then he looks up and says, with those earnest eyes of his: "Mommy, tomorrow I want to learn about mitzvos. Can you teach me about mitzvos?" I say, sure, and sit down to write it down for tomorrow's to-do list, lest I forget. Then he asks me to read to him a story tale in Russian, and translate as I'm reading. Then 9 yo compares it to an English story tale that he knows.

Meanwhile, 7 yo asks if we can learn just one mitzvah tonight. I say, sure, and we sit down on the couch.(My husband is conveniently home, so he whisks away a fuzzy baby. 3 yo is doing her own thing, so 7 yo has my undivided attention). He read the first mitzvah. I got him to read some of the Hebrew. Then we discussed the difference between positive and negative commandments. There was a blurb on the side telling that some of 13 Principles of Rambam are based on these mitzvos. The whole book is following Mishna Torah format. I got excited and showed 7 yo in the siddur where the 13 Principles are found. I said that they start with Ani Maamin ( I believe). He started singing the one about Mashiach from 3 yo's singing siddur. I showed him where that principle fits, and read the first four. Then I flipped to Yigdal, and read the translations of the first four ideas there. I told he that by saying Yigdal, he is fulfilling these mitzvos. He said that he did not realize that. He actually felt good, since he had this idea of acting out (performing?) the mitzvos that we learn and I could tell that he was not sure how to perform knowing that there is a G-d.

I get asked all the time what curriculum I use for Judaics. When I leave things vague, or fumble for an answer, the assumption is that we have no idea what we are doing, since there is no script, and, consequently, my kids are lacking in knowledge. Yet how could I script a moment like this? How could I script the desire within 7 yo on this particular night to learn about mitzvos, and that it would carry over to the siddur and to imbue the familiar prayers with a new glow of meaning? As much time as I spend defending homeschooling, I spend even more time quaking in my boots and freaking out that my kids will not know some essential. All it takes is a pleasant interaction like this, the genuine quest for knowledge, and I am assured of the path that we find ourselves on.

a pleasant surprise

7 am.

I stumble out into the living room, bleary-eyed, to find 7 year old sitting on the couch, reading Artscroll Tanach. He is dressed.

"Wow, you are all dressed!"
"Yes, and I davened. It is easier to daven than just to say Birchot haTorah."

I glance at the kitchen table. A box of cereal is sitting out, next to an empty bowl. He already had his breakfast.

What a pleasant surprise!

Some days our kids will disappoint us, let us down, embarrass us. Some days they will surpass our expectations.

following by example

I always say morning brachot before having breakfast. Usually it is the only davening I get in. The kids know what I mean when they offer me a piece of their breakfast food and I say, hold on, gotta say my brachot first.

Yesterday, 9 yo opened a new package of chocolate granola from Trader Joe's. As he was offering me a taste, I said the usual line. He stopped, put down his spoon, and said that he will also say his brachot before starting to eat. He got his siddur, and said birchot hashachar, then proceeded to enjoy granola. (It is good, as anything that contains chocolate chunks in the ingredients should be).

I never insisted for the kids to daven before having breakfast, but 9 yo had seen me do it for years, and now something clicked for him to do it, too. This morning, by the time I got up, he was dressed, had breakfast and davened, so I do not know in which order he did things, but I will take a kid ready to start the day right.

People are nervous about how to teach kids to read. My first question is: do you read yourself? Do you read a lot? Do the kids see you reading for pleasure? And do you read to your kids? They are bound to be interested in picking it up, sooner or later. 3 yo brings me books, points out the letters she knows, asks me about the letters she does not know, and she sees us all reading. I read a ton to the boys. 9 yo knew all his letters by the time he was 2. 7 yo resisted telling me the names of the letters, but once we got through all the BOB books, he just started reading on his own. I complained how his first chapter book was Captain Underpants, but now he's reading Ranger's Apprentice. He read a lot of Beverly Cleary and Judy Bloom. Chapter books are clearly not an issue any more.

What is it that you want your kids to pick up? Think about it, and constantly practice it; they are bound to notice the value you place on it, and will follow your example. You just have to be sincere about it. If you do not truly value it, they will sense the hypocrisy and will not value it either.

Yom Kippur

Another year found yet another frazzled me. My husband got home too close to comfort (but, hey, at least he was able to leave his Blackberry at home!), the kids did not do their pre-yom tov jobs, I wanted to finish Yonah, they did not, I was worrying about my cold and fasting, and whether there is enough food, and whether I will make it to shul.

Next thing I knew, the final meal was served, it was after candlelighting, I realized that I did not set the timer in the living room properly, and I forgot to light a yortzait candle for my father. I crawled into bed, tired.

The next morning, we all walked to shul together for 8:30 minyan. I thought it was brilliant, they have babysitting, I will catch shacharit before Yizkor and then head home with the kids. As soon as I was done with the silent amidah, I got light-headed. I ended up sitting for most of chazzan's repetition, focusing on not passing out and lasting till Yizkor. After Yizkor, I went to gather the kids. The boys did not join the youth groups for davening (this is not our regular shul), and they could not locate the library books that they brought to read. 2 yo wanted to stay, the boys wanted to go. 8 yo nixed his lunch since his sister took his lunch bag and he was not about to eat lunch out of a princessy bag (the contents was exactly the same). On the way home, I got an earful about how he wanted to go to our regular shul's groups since he gets Pokemon cards there and now he missed on a batch. I did not handle that one well.

When we got home, I collapsed, to be woken up with requests for lunch. I told them which shelf in the fridge contained food. Afterwards I was told that they had peanut butter with corn chips and sliced cucumbers. Then the boys entertained themselves for a nice long while. Not all of their entertainment was quiet, though. My husband came home with a sleeping 2 yo later. She did not nap for long, and woke up really cranky. 6 yo tried cheering her up, bu that produced even more noise.

Just around the corner was dinnertime. Apparently, cold noodles were not too appealing, but they worked in a punch, I even got the kids to clean up the whole table and put everything in the fridge. Then there was more running and more fighting and more screaming. Through all of this time, I was trying to read "One Special Prayer" about the service in the Beit Hamikdash on Yom Kippur. Even though the book is billed for young adults, I found it very fascinating and informative. At some point, after I sent everyone to get pjs on, 8 yo came over and asked me to read the next chapter out loud. It happened to be about the goats and the lottery. Now, to backtrack, I tried to engage the boys in some learning earlier in the day. I offered to finish Yonah and was rejected. I asked whether they knew about the "two mehhhs" meaning the two goats. That led to a few guesses, and then a complaint from an 8 yo about how we can be so cruel to animals. I probably did not offer the best answer to that one, lying on the couch in near-darkness (messed-up living room light). So when they climbed into my bed (next to a window with twightlight streaming in) and eagerly listened to the next chapter, containing quite technical descriptions and no pictures on the majority of pages, I was a bit surprised. I liked that one of the kids in the book also asked about why the poor goat has to be thrown off the cliff. 6 yo made a joke about "ish iti" ( a person who accompanied the goat). We learned that he was offered food along the path to the desert. I did not know this at all. 6 yo said, that's why he was called "ish eat-i"!

They asked for the next chapter, after which they willingly allowed me to tuck them in. Goodwill prevailed again.

Although I wish I squeezed even more meaning from the Yom Kippur, I think that ending it on a high note with the kids was meaningful in its own way. They will learn what they want to learn and when they want to learn it. I feel that this lesson is being taught to me again and again.

The presence of kids in shul

From 613 Torah Ave, Vayeilech:
A boy breaks a jar of marmalade. Strangers make nasty remarks:
-Small children do not belong in stores!

-Excuse me, sir, I do not mean to show disrespect,
But tell me, how do you expect,
A child to learn to get on along,
If are you always keeping them at home?

-Yes, you must take him out each day
And show him what's the proper way
He may, indeed, make some mistakes,
And you will pay for the mess he makes
But in raising a child, that's what it takes.

-We learn this lesson, without fail,
From the special mitzvah of Hakhel

(A quick background: the mitzvah of Hakhel involved gathering up the entire nation once every seven years for the king to read parts of the Torah. The explicitly mentioned parties are men, women, small children and converts.)

The song can be found here.

I did not grow up with 613 Torah Ave tapes, so we are discovering them together. Not every single piece is meaningful or well-thought-out, but this particular part resonates strongly with me. It is hard to grocery shop with kids. It is hard taking them all to the post office, or the cleaner's or any other store. The errand is not efficient, and things are bound to get ruined. You are bound to get some dirty looks and remarks. But that's what it takes. Rashi comments that the reason the small children were brought to Hakhel was to give reward to their parents. So, it was not for them to learn Torah, or to listen to it, but for their parents to show that Torah is so precious to them, that they will drop everything, inconvenience themselves, and bring their kids. Something tells me that national gathering was not quiet and produced quite a few gray hairs in parents.

What if the Torah placed decorum over the importance of the learning experience?

I am well into Shmuel I in my Nach Yomi. In the first perek, it talks about how Elkanah would go up to Shiloh once a year and bring his family with him. Abarbanel comments that he brought "even his young children in order to inculcate them with the pure fear of G-d that would come from the atmosphere and service at the holy place, and so that the presence of the entire family would increase the joy of the festival observances". Unless children were different in those days, I strongly doubt that it was an easy undertaking. After all, Elkanah was a wealthy individual, couldn't he leave the children with the nannies at home? Couldn't he leave the wives at home, as well? Women do not have an obligation to pray, and he was the one bringing korbanot on their behalf. However, apparently there was a learning experience there not to be missed. Maybe when Chana saw what Penina's children were gaining from exposure to the Mishkan, she got an additional motivation to pray for a child. After all, the essence of our prayer is based on Chana's prayer, the prayer of one who had no obligation to pray.

Where am I going with all this?

I believe the above sources corroborate two points:
1. Children belong in shul and are expected to become the members of the community from an early age.
2. The prayer of women should be encouraged.

These two points are closely related to one another, especially in the modern setting of a shul. If women (of any age) are encouraged to come to shul to daven, they will be bringing children to shul. If the shul provides an atmosphere which encourages women to bring their children to shul, the children get to learn by observing and participating in davening, and the mothers can get a chance to daven. If the children feel valued as members of a congregation, performing such functions as holding doors, opening and closing the aron, changing page numbers, setting up and cleaning up kiddush, let alone singing Adon Olam, they are more likely to look forward to growing up and joining the congregation in prayer.

Too often, a shul places decorum over the needs of its congregation. A place full of decorum most likely has fidgety adults as well, same fidgety adults who hush the mothers who dare bring their kids in. The mothers do not feel welcome, and so they leave. The kids are discouraged from being inside: after all, how long can a child sit still in a place where he has no function? He has two paths: either learn the grown-up language and outperform them (for example, by extending Amens longer than anyone else), or drop out. Then we have a crisis of kids leaving the fold. And how many Chanahs never get a chance at a heart-felt prayer?

I will finish with three anecdotes, all showing how decorum has nothing to do with kavanah.

I attended a bar-mitzvah in Richmond, VA, right before Rosh HaShana. The shul there does not have a ton of kids, but a boy went up on Friday night to sing Yigdal. He marched up, was draped in a tallis and then belted out... Adon Olam! There was a pause, he was corrected, caught his place, and then continued, with the congregation joining in. He made a mistake, but he learned a most valuable lesson: his service is valued, and when he stumbles, there is a community which will correct him and set him on his way.

What if the boy was booed instead, or not allowed to say Yigdal at all?

During Shabbos day, right as bar-mitzcah speeches were starting, Mr. Griff, the gabbai, motioned that he has something to add. Now Mr. Griff is old-school, he is all for proper decorum. He is imposing, and he looks just, as his name sounds: someone who very clearly indicates what flies in his shul and what doesn't. I do not know how many rabbis he saw come and go, but he runs the place. What Mr. Griff had to say was surprising to me: he spoke how the bar-mitzvah boy, while being a wee one, would go up with his father to open the aron, holding on tightly to his father's hand. Then, when he got older, and realized that Mr. Griff will not eat him, he would wait for his cue, and go up on his own. And look at him now, reading his parsha!

What if Mr. Griff did not tolerate little boys on the dais, never welcoming them up?

The most personally inspiring davening of recent memory happened on our trip to Israel. On Shabbos morning, we were brought to a fairly standard Israeli shul. I had to rummage for nusach Ashekanz siddur, the mechiza was a white curtain, and the davening was moving at a brisk pace. But there was an incredible kavanah (intent) in the room. When the congregation recited the prayer for the Israeli soldiers, they inserted the names of the kids from that shul who are serving. When they mentioned Tzion and Yerushalayim, it was not an abstraction standing in the way of kiddush, but a real place, so close to their hearts. When the baal koreh read from the Torah with a kid draped over his shoulder, nobody flinched. Nobody flinched, either, when he took that kid to the restroom, and another person took his place for one aliyah. There were some women in shul, and some kids. There was no pomposity, just an earnest expression of a congregation.

Isn't that what tefila is supposed to be about? 

who created man with wisdom...

When Stalin came to power in the Soviet Union, Yiddish was outlawed. Why? Because in Yiddish the toilet paper is "asher yotzar papir", or "asher yotzar paper". Asher Yotzar means "who created" and is the beginning of the blessing made after one relieves himself. The reason for the blessing is to acknowledge that the body is working properly: everything that needs to stay open is open and anything that needs to be closed stays closed. Now, taking time a few times a day to marvel at how G-d keeps your body functioning can bring a lot of meaning. Or not. But Stalin knew that if even lowly toilet paper will be reminding Jews that there is G-d and not Stalin who is in charge of their bodily functions, then Yiddish could not be a secular language despite whatever the enlightened Jews were trying to tell him.

Today I wanted to go over the text of Asher Yatzar with 6 yo. He has been saying it for years, and he knows the gist of this one, but I wanted more details. I decided to browse online and came upon this website:

http://eng.asheryatzar.com/site_contents/posters_download.html

It has a nice printable poster of Asher Yatzar, with translation and transliteration and visual reminders and holiness-inducing reminders. Many of you probably have this in your homes, next to the bathrooms. (If not, here it is, print and use and thank G-d for your functioning body!) What I found to be amusing was that there  are minor differences in the text. Some have to do with order, some have to do with adding or subtracting words. The meaning is still the same, and the idea is, too. But isn't it a bit funny that Jews among themselves cannot agree what should come first: the opening or the closing of body orifices, and whether it is important to say that you cannot survive "even for one hour"? Or whether you cannot survive only or survive and stand before G-d?

Being grateful for a functioning body is such a basic idea, so why are we all sectarian about it? Why isn't there one standard text?

On the same subject, we were doing third pasuk in perek 22 in Vayeira with 8 yo. He asked me about who are the two servants who walked with Avraham. Before I answered, he decided to look in Rashi and got his answer. Then he asked: why two? I said that the rest of Rashi has the answer. I had to help him translate it. He asked me, what does it mean to take care of his openings at a distance? I did not give it to him, but hinted. I also explained how they do not have bathrooms in the desert, so one had to go find a private sand dune and distance himself. He liked this Rashi.

July 12th

A few snippets of today:

• In davening, 6 yo added second part of baruch sheamar. One day, he just decided that he wanted to do it and he did it. He is complaining a lot about having to say birchot hashahar now, I am wondering whether he bit off more than he can chew. He is also reading all little blurbs in his siddur which explain different things about davening. I am seriously contemplating getting him a siddur with English translation, when time comes for his big kid siddur. I think he will get much more out of it than a plain, all-Hebrew one.

• I took all kids bike riding in the park. 6 yo worked on his bike and got the hang of it, without training wheels. He did not want to go originally, but he really practiced on his own and it worked! I had to teach him how to brake with his feet, either he forgot, or he was too scared not to be able to put his feet out. He loved the burnt rubber marks left on the pavement after his "good brakes". To celebrate, we went out to Menchie's.

• 8 yo practiced diving and 6 yo unassisted back stroke at the pool today. It is such a relief to see them both eager to swim and gaining so much. Of course, they are clamoring for even more swim time. I tried today watching all three in the deep pool, but it was too nerve-wrecking. 

• At home, 8 yo is rereading Story of the World, part 2. We also got a book about Rashi through Feldheim, called Rashi HaKadosh. I found it to be disappointing: it is poorly made, poorly written, has legends given over as history and looks like they took blurry stills from a movie and published it without proofreading. The boys found it to be fascinating. I discussed with 8 yo the treatment of crusades by SOTW and Rashi book, and how history can be told from different perspectives. All of this reading is being down without any input from me, I much rather be "off", but this kind of learning does not seem to take a vacation.

• 8 yo picked up a circular in Menchie's which had sudoku and a crossword. I found him later sitting down with a dictionary, working on it.

• For goodnight stories, the boys picked a book about time travel to the time of the Vikings and that Rashi book. 

Now onto a challenge:

It's called the cleaning issue. I clean up, and the place is a mess. I don't clean up, and the place is a disaster. I ask the kids to clean, I beg them, I scream at them, I cajole them... it works, for five minutes. And then it's back to square one. I feel like I want that remote control which freezes everything, so that I have 24 hours to put everything in its place. Another thing I feel is that we have too much stuff, coupled with many things not having an established home. I want to start the next school year in an organized fashion. I know that for me, a certain amount of order brings happiness. Not plastic slipcovers on untouchable couch, but being able to sit on that couch without displacing piles of stuff that accumulated there during the day. I am using this time to think things through, but I know it's mid-July and there is only so much of the summer left to implement and cement new routines.

motivation

Yesterday, we took kids bowling, It was a rainy day, my husband thought he could squeeze it in between procedures, we have Kids Bowl Free, and we have not gone in a long time. The kids were all excited. It served as a good motivator to daven and get dressed quickly. The davening took a bit longer than expected, but the new siddur was the name of the game.

When we got to the alley, we saw that a few other people had the same idea. We ended up bowling all on the same lane. Of course, the question was: bumpers or no bumpers? We chose to got with bumpers and a bowling contraption for the 2 yo. Pretty amazingly, she got a strike on her first push! The boys did not too shabby themselves. By the end of the game, I tied with 8 yo and three of us broke a hundred. Since we had a second game free, and everyone felt quite good about themselves, we decided to try bowling without bumpers. After first gutter balls, the boys lost all confidence. It did not help that my husband had to leave in the middle of the second game. By the end, 6 yo was bowling with a contraption, and 8 yo was in tears that 2 yo had a higher score than he did. I wanted to say that it's not about score, it's about practice, but then stopped. Why did we make such a big deal about all the strikes and spares on the first round if it's not about score? How often do we expect kids to be just as good at something as we are, without realizing that we had years and years of practice? And then we choose to measure the success by numbers.

It was not a peaceful car ride on the way back home, fueled by hunger. During lunch, when 8 yo calmed down a bit, all of a sudden he said: "My body is telling me it wants to learn some Torah." I wanted to know what kind of learning his body was in the mood for. He  said, his arms say, Shmuel Aleph and his legs, Shmuel Beit and his head is not sure. I wondered if any of his body wants to continue Vaeiyra. He said, yes. I asked him whether he remembered what was the last thing we learned ( over two weeks ago). He remembered about Avimelech taking Sorah. I told him that I got a new chumash for him in Israel, with Rashi with nekudot. He got excited about it, I showed it to him and we started. We did three pesukim, he needed to be reminded what is "be'er". We finished on the place being called Be'er Sheva and I said that we traveled very close to it. I pulled out a map of Israel and then he found Be'er Sheva on it. He hypothesised that sheva were four slaves of Avimelech, and then Avraham, Avimelech and Pichol.

Overall, I was quite encouraged that he asked to learn. Maybe I can let go on the Judaics and they will happen with desire.

I have been reflecting on my davening a bit  lately. I have been saying it for years by now, starting at 13. I remember feeling envious of others who said it so quickly and ( supposedly) knew all the words they were saying. It took me a long time and I knew every 5th word. It did not help that I was taught some davening just by repetition after a teacher. It did not help that my first siddur was all in Hebrew and I did not have anyone telling me which page had what on it. But somehow, over the years, I got to the point where I know what most of the words are. No worksheets, no intense study, no fill-in-the-blanks, no tests. No crazy motivation either, just a desire to say things fast enough to keep with the tzibbur. (After praying at the Kotel without the tzibbur I wonder whether the reason for lack of concentration has to do with keeping up with others. In yoga, you are told to do what is comfortable for you, and not to look at others. Why should our tefillah be exactly in lockstep with others?) So, if I got to my level of understanding just through years of slow-and-steady, why do I want my kid to get it all "now"? Why don't I give him a siddur with English translation, so he can look up meaning as he chooses? Why not leave the books on tefilla  around instead of constantly telling him to sit down and focus and pay attention and not mumble?

As a broader question: how much of a certain state of mind can be taught and how much of it has to desired from within? How much space should I be leaving for my kids to develop their relationship to Judaism? How much learning do I need to facilitate and how much will happen despite of me? I know that I cannot control my son's desire to learn. I can only make sure that I do not get in the way.

And today, I got in the way of that learning. In the morning , we went to a Children's Museum. He had one0time passes that we won in a raffle, and today was raining again. It was a bit too young for the boys, but they stopped by the ball station. There, all different machines pick up balls and make them go on belts, up in the air, from station to station. They stayed there for hours. 2 yo checked out everything else: the underground, the painting, the store, the house, and delivery truck, the kids' show.

As we were driving back, the boys asked to watch Pokemon. I used to say no, but yesterday I said that I will think about it. SO I said that they can watch after we finish the perek. That was a bad idea: 8 yo was obviously trying to finish ASAP, and was not interested in getting in the intricacies of the perek. I got his attention a bit with discussion of what is Eshel, but overall, he was not here, but in Pokemon. The funny part was, once I found the movie and the kids sat down to watch, 6 yo ran out five minutes into it, screaming that it's too scary. He was not able to finish it. Somehow, Mommy still knows best.