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.
Showing posts with label gratitude. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gratitude. Show all posts
Thursday, November 15, 2018
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
Kapara?
Today is Rosh Chodesh Elul. My oldest got back really late last night from his class trip to the eclipse totality. I gave myself a small pat on the back for staying put and not being stuck in the same traffic. This late arrival led to a late start in school, at 10:15. Now, my other kids get picked up in a carpool so this late start meant that I had to drive him. Time to insert gratitude for having the flexibility that these schedule changes are mere inconveniences than major life disrupters. He was a bit nervous about getting to school on time, feeling that this was like a pardon not to be squandered. I had some errands to do, so I hustled 11 yo to come with us.
It happened. Statistically, it was supposed to happen sooner, but it happened today. The fastest and most direct way to the school requires one to get onto one highway, exit onto the left lane of another highway and then exit on the right off the second highway in 300 feet onto a service road. One is expected to transverse three lanes of traffic while entering on the left (fastest moving lane) in 300 feet. I used to avoid this route. I used to tell kids to shush, as I cannot see the traffic on the second highway till I exit the ramp. But I have been lucky to successfully merge, cross those three lanes, and exit where we need to exit. It does not help that the next exit is a few miles away.
Today, since I was coming mid-morning, I was not able to cross all three lanes while going at highway speed. There was a car merging left, and the guy in the right-most lane did not give me space to exit. So we ended up being pulled towards the next exit, with my teen slowly hyperventilating how he's going to be late. I asked him to Waze our way. We were arriving at 10:16. But I was quite rattled. I kept saying how this was bound to happen, how at least we did not crash, but internally I was in turmoil.
After drop off, we set out on the same highway to run our errands. I decided to go to Office Depot not far from our old residence since I needed to make multiple copies for homeschool chemistry class. Lo and behold, their price is 14 cents per copy while I am getting reimbursed at 10 cents per copy. Multiply that by a couple hundred pages and I slowly backed away from the counter, thinking that I need to find a place with a better rate.
As I got into my car, chatting with 11 yo, I put the key into ignition and ... nothing. It would not start. It just started! We drove here! What now? I tried this, I tried that. No, it would not start. The previous time this happened was with our old van, two days before Rosh HaShana and we needed a new alternator to the tune of a crazy amount of money, a day in the shop and a rental car, Today I had to pick up 2 yo at 2:30 on the other side of town. No wonder I went into the hyperventilating mode.
Time to insert gratitude that we broke down in the major shopping plaza, that I do have AAA, that AAA repair shop is in the same plaza, that there is kosher food available right there, that a friend who was texting me at the exact same time offered to help. I am also grateful that I did not leave 11 yo at home, because who knows how long this would take?
I decided that it is quicker to walk over to AAA than to call the hotline. It turned out to be a smart decision, as they sent a mechanic with a jumper battery to see whether they could just jump me. The car started enough for me to drive it over, but the battery was dead. They assured me that it is not the alternator, just a battery and they can switch it out right in the parking lot, here is your bill, have a great day. As I ran the rest of the shopping errands, we got some lunch. While we were eating it, I said out loud how it is Elul and maybe these two car malfunctions were a kapara (a redemption) for something I did. Incidentally, we went over Vidui yesterday and the line at the end where we ask Hashem to erase all our sins, but not through illnesses and major suffering stuck out to me. 11 yo listened to me musing out loud and said, I get it already, you've convinced me. I muttered how I am trying to convince myself.
On the heels of the eclipse, we definitely take the sun for granted until there is a major celestial event that brings our awareness to what it does for us day to day. I was thinking how I take my car for granted. We went for years with one car and that was hard. I loved having two cars after that. I was very aware of what a difference in mobility a car makes, especially with small kids in a spread-out city. But that was many years ago. Now we have had two well-running cars for over 8 years, so it is not on my mind so much.
However, there was another theme, something that I did not articulate out loud. As much as both of these incidents could have been a kapara, did I really need it like this? Do I really need to get into a near accident? Do I really need to drop a large amount of money on a sudden car repair? Do I need to run mental lists of whom can I call to get my baby from preschool if this car issue turns out to be serious? What happened to kapara of reaching into a pocket for a quarter and pulling out a dime?
It happened. Statistically, it was supposed to happen sooner, but it happened today. The fastest and most direct way to the school requires one to get onto one highway, exit onto the left lane of another highway and then exit on the right off the second highway in 300 feet onto a service road. One is expected to transverse three lanes of traffic while entering on the left (fastest moving lane) in 300 feet. I used to avoid this route. I used to tell kids to shush, as I cannot see the traffic on the second highway till I exit the ramp. But I have been lucky to successfully merge, cross those three lanes, and exit where we need to exit. It does not help that the next exit is a few miles away.
Today, since I was coming mid-morning, I was not able to cross all three lanes while going at highway speed. There was a car merging left, and the guy in the right-most lane did not give me space to exit. So we ended up being pulled towards the next exit, with my teen slowly hyperventilating how he's going to be late. I asked him to Waze our way. We were arriving at 10:16. But I was quite rattled. I kept saying how this was bound to happen, how at least we did not crash, but internally I was in turmoil.
After drop off, we set out on the same highway to run our errands. I decided to go to Office Depot not far from our old residence since I needed to make multiple copies for homeschool chemistry class. Lo and behold, their price is 14 cents per copy while I am getting reimbursed at 10 cents per copy. Multiply that by a couple hundred pages and I slowly backed away from the counter, thinking that I need to find a place with a better rate.
As I got into my car, chatting with 11 yo, I put the key into ignition and ... nothing. It would not start. It just started! We drove here! What now? I tried this, I tried that. No, it would not start. The previous time this happened was with our old van, two days before Rosh HaShana and we needed a new alternator to the tune of a crazy amount of money, a day in the shop and a rental car, Today I had to pick up 2 yo at 2:30 on the other side of town. No wonder I went into the hyperventilating mode.
Time to insert gratitude that we broke down in the major shopping plaza, that I do have AAA, that AAA repair shop is in the same plaza, that there is kosher food available right there, that a friend who was texting me at the exact same time offered to help. I am also grateful that I did not leave 11 yo at home, because who knows how long this would take?
I decided that it is quicker to walk over to AAA than to call the hotline. It turned out to be a smart decision, as they sent a mechanic with a jumper battery to see whether they could just jump me. The car started enough for me to drive it over, but the battery was dead. They assured me that it is not the alternator, just a battery and they can switch it out right in the parking lot, here is your bill, have a great day. As I ran the rest of the shopping errands, we got some lunch. While we were eating it, I said out loud how it is Elul and maybe these two car malfunctions were a kapara (a redemption) for something I did. Incidentally, we went over Vidui yesterday and the line at the end where we ask Hashem to erase all our sins, but not through illnesses and major suffering stuck out to me. 11 yo listened to me musing out loud and said, I get it already, you've convinced me. I muttered how I am trying to convince myself.
On the heels of the eclipse, we definitely take the sun for granted until there is a major celestial event that brings our awareness to what it does for us day to day. I was thinking how I take my car for granted. We went for years with one car and that was hard. I loved having two cars after that. I was very aware of what a difference in mobility a car makes, especially with small kids in a spread-out city. But that was many years ago. Now we have had two well-running cars for over 8 years, so it is not on my mind so much.
However, there was another theme, something that I did not articulate out loud. As much as both of these incidents could have been a kapara, did I really need it like this? Do I really need to get into a near accident? Do I really need to drop a large amount of money on a sudden car repair? Do I need to run mental lists of whom can I call to get my baby from preschool if this car issue turns out to be serious? What happened to kapara of reaching into a pocket for a quarter and pulling out a dime?
Friday, June 10, 2016
Earning Olam Haba
Some people think that to earn Olam Haba
One needs to do kiruv,
Or write a sefer
Or be a martyr,
Or do a lot, a lot of mitzvot.
But
A friend invited us over for a Yom Tov meal.
First on Pesach,
And then on Shavuos.
All seven of us.
We are not close.
We are not best friends,
But she sensed my desperation
Being daunted by all these meals,
And all these mouths to feed,
And all the expectations of joy
And perfection.
I don't do perfect.
I do good enough.
Yom Tov looms large in my mind
As I do not have a childhood yardstick to measure it by.
Its expectation of ecstasy
Of facing the Divine
And noticing how
I am empty-handed.
My friend earned her Olam Haba
One casual meal invite at a time.
Please G-d,
When she stands on Yom Kippur
And beats her chest
Remember her kindness.
One needs to do kiruv,
Or write a sefer
Or be a martyr,
Or do a lot, a lot of mitzvot.
But
A friend invited us over for a Yom Tov meal.
First on Pesach,
And then on Shavuos.
All seven of us.
We are not close.
We are not best friends,
But she sensed my desperation
Being daunted by all these meals,
And all these mouths to feed,
And all the expectations of joy
And perfection.
I don't do perfect.
I do good enough.
Yom Tov looms large in my mind
As I do not have a childhood yardstick to measure it by.
Its expectation of ecstasy
Of facing the Divine
And noticing how
I am empty-handed.
My friend earned her Olam Haba
One casual meal invite at a time.
Please G-d,
When she stands on Yom Kippur
And beats her chest
Remember her kindness.
Sunday, November 23, 2014
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.
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.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
a shout out to mikvah ladies
We all hear horror stories about mikvah ladies. That one touched you when you did not wan to be touched, this one told you to do this, or you won't tovel, the other one made you wait while she chatted/walked away/picked her nose... we have all heard those. But how about some good ones?
I have been married for 11 years, and we have moved a few times, so I have been to different mikvaot dozens of times. What strikes me time and again, how often it goes well, it goes smoothly, and how much the mikvah ladies do behind the scenes for it to work. Often they do not get the recognition and appreciation they deserve because it is a tznius issue, and nobody discusses AFTERWARDS what went right.
So here is a shout-out to all the amazing mikvah ladies. The ones who do their job as it is supposed to be done.
I have been married for 11 years, and we have moved a few times, so I have been to different mikvaot dozens of times. What strikes me time and again, how often it goes well, it goes smoothly, and how much the mikvah ladies do behind the scenes for it to work. Often they do not get the recognition and appreciation they deserve because it is a tznius issue, and nobody discusses AFTERWARDS what went right.
- A mikva lady asking me what I want checked, how I want to tovel and giving me utmost privacy.
- A mikvah lady not batting an eyelash at my long nails.
- A mikvah lady being all cool when I have to tovel on Shabbos. And motzei Yom Kippur. And Purim night. And seder night. And second day of yom tov. Inevitably there is more than one woman hanging around, waiting for the correct z'man, and inevitably the conversation goes: I was so worried that you are coming out just for me!
- A mikvah lady opening a mikvah on second day of yom tov just for me in a different community.
- A mikvah lady who is all calm and smiles as I finally pull up, half an hour late, lost in unfamiliar community.
- A mikvah lady who tells me it's OK that I do not happen to have enough cash (I did not check the fee carefully).
- A mikvah lady who makes me feel like I have all the time in the world to get ready.
- A mikvah lady who is giving me later and later appointments as I am waiting for my husband to come home from being stuck in traffic.
So here is a shout-out to all the amazing mikvah ladies. The ones who do their job as it is supposed to be done.
Sunday, September 15, 2013
appreciating life
This Yom Kippur, 9 yo did not daven. At all. He went to shul with my husband, there straight to babysitting and did not step foot inside shul. The babysitters fed the kids cookies, and that was the highlight of the experience. Oh, and they played dodge ball. That's all he talked about when he got back.
I talked to my husband how we have to make sure that he is in shul next year, how he needs to start davening, and we need to enforce it. I sometime feel so hopeless about him: his clothes could be backwards, his attention on something only he is aware of, not listening to us. He is not doing what we want him to do. Oh, why can't he be a bit more malleable? Why can't he just bring us nachas (happiness)? Why is there so much head butting?
Then, after Yom Kippur passed and I scrolled through my Facebook feed, I saw pictures of hospital rooms. Hospital gowns. Lots of Hebrew which I did not comprehend, but "refua sheleima" (get well soon). Pictures of a smiling boy, a son of our friends. He is also 9. And before I read through all the posts, I knew. That knot in the stomach; this is not good. Nobody posts picture after picture of their son in the hospital, with multiple declarations of love, unless this is serious.
Once I scrolled through enough posts, I saw the diagnosis: leukemia. My insides churned, as a memory flooded me; another boy with leukemia in a hospital over Yamim Noraim, many years ago. That time it was a son of a family from Richmond, and I was in highschool. I remember my host parent, who had a son same age, come back from visiting him in the hospital after Rosh HaShana. She told me how he was also swamped with toys and gifts and love. She told me how he was in so much pain over Yom Tov, that his mother allowed him to play computer games, anything to take his mind off suffering. Unfortunately, that boy did not make it. He passed away just a short time before his bar mitzvah.
That put my grumbling about my 9 yo in perspective. Please G-d, he will live another year. He is a healthy boy, doing what 9 year olds are interested in doing: playing around. He is not in a hospital room, but comfortably sprawled on the floor, reading. He is not in pain, and I do not have to decide whether he should be breaking Yom Tov to alleviate suffering.
Why is it so hard to appreciate the simple things: good health, normal children, a roof over our head? Why does it have to take a misfortune to stop and think and give thanks for the incredible goodness that we are blessed with?
Please pray for Adi Yechiel Netanel ben Avigayil.
I talked to my husband how we have to make sure that he is in shul next year, how he needs to start davening, and we need to enforce it. I sometime feel so hopeless about him: his clothes could be backwards, his attention on something only he is aware of, not listening to us. He is not doing what we want him to do. Oh, why can't he be a bit more malleable? Why can't he just bring us nachas (happiness)? Why is there so much head butting?
Then, after Yom Kippur passed and I scrolled through my Facebook feed, I saw pictures of hospital rooms. Hospital gowns. Lots of Hebrew which I did not comprehend, but "refua sheleima" (get well soon). Pictures of a smiling boy, a son of our friends. He is also 9. And before I read through all the posts, I knew. That knot in the stomach; this is not good. Nobody posts picture after picture of their son in the hospital, with multiple declarations of love, unless this is serious.
Once I scrolled through enough posts, I saw the diagnosis: leukemia. My insides churned, as a memory flooded me; another boy with leukemia in a hospital over Yamim Noraim, many years ago. That time it was a son of a family from Richmond, and I was in highschool. I remember my host parent, who had a son same age, come back from visiting him in the hospital after Rosh HaShana. She told me how he was also swamped with toys and gifts and love. She told me how he was in so much pain over Yom Tov, that his mother allowed him to play computer games, anything to take his mind off suffering. Unfortunately, that boy did not make it. He passed away just a short time before his bar mitzvah.
That put my grumbling about my 9 yo in perspective. Please G-d, he will live another year. He is a healthy boy, doing what 9 year olds are interested in doing: playing around. He is not in a hospital room, but comfortably sprawled on the floor, reading. He is not in pain, and I do not have to decide whether he should be breaking Yom Tov to alleviate suffering.
Why is it so hard to appreciate the simple things: good health, normal children, a roof over our head? Why does it have to take a misfortune to stop and think and give thanks for the incredible goodness that we are blessed with?
Please pray for Adi Yechiel Netanel ben Avigayil.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
on self-image
This morning, as we were sitting down to daven, 8 yo suddenly told me that he does not like his hair, he feels it does not go well with his face. I said that his curls are beautiful (he's the only one from the kids to have thick, dark curls) and that I wished that I had hair like that. He continued how he does not like his face, it is too thin... I said that he was the cutest kid I ever met and I was so happy that he's mine. He said: "You are just saying that to cheer me up! I don't like to look at my face in the mirror. At that point, I tried to reassure him a bit more, but it was not going anywhere, so we moved on to davening.
This whole exchange pained me. I sort of pride myself on having a healthy body image. I do not count my calories, I am not an exercise freak, and I do not complain about how I look. One of the things I loved about quitting teaching is that I did not have to put on make up every day. I did not have to carefully dress, to look older and authoritative. I could gravitate to clothes which were functional and comfortable. My line for the first year of baby's life: they really don't care what you are wearing, they will spit up all over it anyway!
Tying into this: I am seven months pregnant now, so, obviously, I have a belly. When my mother was looking at our pictures from the canyon, she remarked how the beige jacket sits so well on me, you almost cannot see my bump. Just last night, my mother-in-law offered to take my picture. I demurred (my hair was not covered). She immediately chimed in that she can do just the top, don't worry about the waist.
I remember as a teenager poring over my parents' pictures. There is not one picture of my mother pregnant with me. There is one picture of her being pregnant with my sister. My husband does not have any pictures of his mother being pregnant either. Is this a cultural thing? Or do women feel so bad about how they look that they want no trace of their state?
Well, I am proud of my belly. There is a new life growing inside it. What's so embarrassing about that? So I gained some weight; that's normal. I just look, well, pregnant.
After I had my oldest, two weeks' postpartum, I was already being told to wear a girdle and to wrap my belly tightly in a bedsheet, to "preserve my figure". I did not know better, but I discovered pretty quickly that it is uncomfortable to nurse in a girdle. Nursing took prioriry, so I ditched the girdle, and nursed my kid till he was a year. I did not lose pregnancy weight till after he was weaned, and I was left with quite a bit of sagging. After I had my second, the same thing happened, only this time I did not even try the girdle.
I joke that I always look slightly pregnant, but that's just so I have something to show for all these human beings that I produced. My body did its job marvelously: from sustaining and nurturing a baby, to holding on to necessary weight for nursing. One does not have three kids and looks like a teenage twig. What's embarrassing about that?
So here is my message, my dear son: you are who you are. Your body is amazing and there is nothing wrong with it. What counts is not how people perceive and judge you, but how you appear before Hashem. Are you kind? Are you caring? Are you involved in doing G-d's will? Hashem's mirror is softer on the superficiality and appearances, but much harsher on significance.
As for myself, here I am in all my pregnant glory:
This whole exchange pained me. I sort of pride myself on having a healthy body image. I do not count my calories, I am not an exercise freak, and I do not complain about how I look. One of the things I loved about quitting teaching is that I did not have to put on make up every day. I did not have to carefully dress, to look older and authoritative. I could gravitate to clothes which were functional and comfortable. My line for the first year of baby's life: they really don't care what you are wearing, they will spit up all over it anyway!
Tying into this: I am seven months pregnant now, so, obviously, I have a belly. When my mother was looking at our pictures from the canyon, she remarked how the beige jacket sits so well on me, you almost cannot see my bump. Just last night, my mother-in-law offered to take my picture. I demurred (my hair was not covered). She immediately chimed in that she can do just the top, don't worry about the waist.
I remember as a teenager poring over my parents' pictures. There is not one picture of my mother pregnant with me. There is one picture of her being pregnant with my sister. My husband does not have any pictures of his mother being pregnant either. Is this a cultural thing? Or do women feel so bad about how they look that they want no trace of their state?
Well, I am proud of my belly. There is a new life growing inside it. What's so embarrassing about that? So I gained some weight; that's normal. I just look, well, pregnant.
After I had my oldest, two weeks' postpartum, I was already being told to wear a girdle and to wrap my belly tightly in a bedsheet, to "preserve my figure". I did not know better, but I discovered pretty quickly that it is uncomfortable to nurse in a girdle. Nursing took prioriry, so I ditched the girdle, and nursed my kid till he was a year. I did not lose pregnancy weight till after he was weaned, and I was left with quite a bit of sagging. After I had my second, the same thing happened, only this time I did not even try the girdle.
I joke that I always look slightly pregnant, but that's just so I have something to show for all these human beings that I produced. My body did its job marvelously: from sustaining and nurturing a baby, to holding on to necessary weight for nursing. One does not have three kids and looks like a teenage twig. What's embarrassing about that?
So here is my message, my dear son: you are who you are. Your body is amazing and there is nothing wrong with it. What counts is not how people perceive and judge you, but how you appear before Hashem. Are you kind? Are you caring? Are you involved in doing G-d's will? Hashem's mirror is softer on the superficiality and appearances, but much harsher on significance.
As for myself, here I am in all my pregnant glory:
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Thank you, G-d
Thank you, G-d, for my old house--I have a roof above my head
Thank you, G-d, for my messy living room--I have kids who live here
Thank you, G-d, for interrupting phone calls--I have friends who call me
Thank you, G-d, for kids who want ketchup and shaker cheese and tomato sauce and mozzarella on their noodles--I have all of these in my pantry
Thank you, G-d, for muddy towels and bathing suits--my kids had great time playing outside
Thank you, G-d, for toys strewn all over--I have hands to pick them up
Thank you, G-d, for the cleaning lady who quit--we saved up to go to Israel
Thank you, G-d, for my van--I can give rides
Thank you, G-d, for giving me energy--I can take on a lot and get a lot done
Thank you, G-d, for maintaining my health--I have a new lease on life
Thank you, G-d, for my Ikea lifestyle-- I can focus on people and not on objects
Thank you, G-d, for the internet--I can communicate with others
Thank you, G-d, for my car trips--I can see so much of the world
Thank you, G-d, for homeschooling--I can see how my kids are learning and growing
Thank you, G-d, for my hard-working husband--I have a husband; he is employed and we have more than we need
Thank you, G-d, for giving me an opportunity to see how many things I should be thankful for!
Thank you, G-d, for my messy living room--I have kids who live here
Thank you, G-d, for interrupting phone calls--I have friends who call me
Thank you, G-d, for kids who want ketchup and shaker cheese and tomato sauce and mozzarella on their noodles--I have all of these in my pantry
Thank you, G-d, for muddy towels and bathing suits--my kids had great time playing outside
Thank you, G-d, for toys strewn all over--I have hands to pick them up
Thank you, G-d, for the cleaning lady who quit--we saved up to go to Israel
Thank you, G-d, for my van--I can give rides
Thank you, G-d, for giving me energy--I can take on a lot and get a lot done
Thank you, G-d, for maintaining my health--I have a new lease on life
Thank you, G-d, for my Ikea lifestyle-- I can focus on people and not on objects
Thank you, G-d, for the internet--I can communicate with others
Thank you, G-d, for my car trips--I can see so much of the world
Thank you, G-d, for homeschooling--I can see how my kids are learning and growing
Thank you, G-d, for my hard-working husband--I have a husband; he is employed and we have more than we need
Thank you, G-d, for giving me an opportunity to see how many things I should be thankful for!
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Starbucks siyum
Got up late, for us. It was after 7. By 9, we were all dressed and breakfasted. They boys davened. 5 yo started with Rosetta Stone: nothing like a little competition for the computer with your older brother to serve as motivation. 7 yo read history from Story of the World. I know that it is meant to be read to a child, but he's nicely reading it by himself. I printed out a map of the Middle East and we marked off Fertile Crescent, Lower and Upper Egypt ( he really liked that they are upside down), Babylonia and Assyria. He also colored in the seas of the region.
Then he went to do Rosetta Stone while 5 yo did Yesh Lanu Lama ( body parts) and ketiva. Today he told me which words to write in which blanks, but the body parts he labeled by himself. I had to restrain him from starting on the next letter.
7 yo came up to do megillah. We finished first perek. He read each pasuk in Hebrew from Artscroll Youth Megilah and then we translated together. He remarked how Achashverosh's law sounded dumb, something that people already knew. Then he asked for a small siyum. I suggested walking to Starbucks; I needed shredded cheese from local kosher grocery. The weather was gorgeous today, so it was a nice little outing. At Starbucks, 5 yo turned around and thanked me for taking them out. Those little spontaneous moments of appreciation make my heart melt.
On the way back, a ladybug landed on my glasses. 7 yo took it off and tried carrying it home, but it bit him and flew away. 5 yo found some beetles on the sidewalk. We stopped by our frost-bitten magnolia and noted how new leaves were forming, even though all blooms were brown and shriveled.
I put up noodles for lunch, and boys did math. 7 yo practiced multiplication of 4s, 5s and 6s. 5 yo worked on even-odd and comparing numbers. 7 yo was checking 5 yo's work; free reinforcement. While the noodles were still boiling, 5 yo brought out weaving board to make a trivet. He started on one a while back, but could not get the weaving part. This time, after making a woven place mat in homeschooling coop, he succeeded. He only put in one loop, but he got the hang and the coordination of alternating under-over.
During lunch, 7 yo suddenly asked why do we remove chametz( leaven) from our houses and not, say, logs for Pesach. I tried answering as quickly as I could, but I wish I would have saved it for a more in-depth, calmer discussion.
Then I read Bill Nye book about germs to both boys. 5 yo read to me The Shape of Me. Then 7 yo did sentences from the megillah, this time I asked him to put them in order of the story. He resisted a bit, but did it in the end. I asked whether he wants to write them down in order now and he said no. We agreed to do it tomorrow. Looks like another overscheduled Friday coming up.
Then 7 yo did a description of a photo from National Geographic. he got 4-5 sentences. I explained that a good description allows people to imagine what the picture is like without seeing it. I also tried introducing a more formal voice, but it might be a bit too hard for him.
5 yo finished handwriting and then I decided to try spelling. I used Spelling Power, just started at the lowest level. I was nicely surprised that he willingly followed along, and got all words right except for that. He wrote dat. Might be my darn Russian accent confusing him...
5 yo reminded me to check on our beans, I put it on the schedule, but completely forgot. Some have molded, but some are growing roots and one even put out leaves. We also checked on the ones in paper towel, there we got nice fat roots and fuzzy root hairs.
Looking forward to taking everyone out to Botanical Gardens this afternoon.
Then he went to do Rosetta Stone while 5 yo did Yesh Lanu Lama ( body parts) and ketiva. Today he told me which words to write in which blanks, but the body parts he labeled by himself. I had to restrain him from starting on the next letter.
7 yo came up to do megillah. We finished first perek. He read each pasuk in Hebrew from Artscroll Youth Megilah and then we translated together. He remarked how Achashverosh's law sounded dumb, something that people already knew. Then he asked for a small siyum. I suggested walking to Starbucks; I needed shredded cheese from local kosher grocery. The weather was gorgeous today, so it was a nice little outing. At Starbucks, 5 yo turned around and thanked me for taking them out. Those little spontaneous moments of appreciation make my heart melt.
On the way back, a ladybug landed on my glasses. 7 yo took it off and tried carrying it home, but it bit him and flew away. 5 yo found some beetles on the sidewalk. We stopped by our frost-bitten magnolia and noted how new leaves were forming, even though all blooms were brown and shriveled.
I put up noodles for lunch, and boys did math. 7 yo practiced multiplication of 4s, 5s and 6s. 5 yo worked on even-odd and comparing numbers. 7 yo was checking 5 yo's work; free reinforcement. While the noodles were still boiling, 5 yo brought out weaving board to make a trivet. He started on one a while back, but could not get the weaving part. This time, after making a woven place mat in homeschooling coop, he succeeded. He only put in one loop, but he got the hang and the coordination of alternating under-over.
During lunch, 7 yo suddenly asked why do we remove chametz( leaven) from our houses and not, say, logs for Pesach. I tried answering as quickly as I could, but I wish I would have saved it for a more in-depth, calmer discussion.
Then I read Bill Nye book about germs to both boys. 5 yo read to me The Shape of Me. Then 7 yo did sentences from the megillah, this time I asked him to put them in order of the story. He resisted a bit, but did it in the end. I asked whether he wants to write them down in order now and he said no. We agreed to do it tomorrow. Looks like another overscheduled Friday coming up.
Then 7 yo did a description of a photo from National Geographic. he got 4-5 sentences. I explained that a good description allows people to imagine what the picture is like without seeing it. I also tried introducing a more formal voice, but it might be a bit too hard for him.
5 yo finished handwriting and then I decided to try spelling. I used Spelling Power, just started at the lowest level. I was nicely surprised that he willingly followed along, and got all words right except for that. He wrote dat. Might be my darn Russian accent confusing him...
5 yo reminded me to check on our beans, I put it on the schedule, but completely forgot. Some have molded, but some are growing roots and one even put out leaves. We also checked on the ones in paper towel, there we got nice fat roots and fuzzy root hairs.
Looking forward to taking everyone out to Botanical Gardens this afternoon.
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