Erev Yom Kippur thoughts

There is a sunrise every single day. And every single day it feels like a sin if I am not there when the sun is rising, when the sky starts to turn colors, when darkness changes to light, when a new day dawns. I need to see it, to feel it, to experience it, to acknowledge it. I want to spend at least a few sunrises of my life at the shore of a body of water, on a mountain, somewhere where the skyline is not obscured by roofs and trees and the debris of everyday life.

I have a hard time arranging my life in a way where I can voice my needs, have my needs heard, and have my needs met.

I have even harder time with finding like-minded individuals. I am blessed with quite a few friends who have held my hand through fairly major storms, but all of them, without exception, live a very real distance away, so all the hand-holding was done virtually, through phone calls and messages. It is a sin that somehow I cannot manage close and vulnerable relationships without putting a physical distance between us.

I do not know how to atone for these sins.

skipping a step

We have lived in this new house for six months. There are two stories, so I spend plenty of time going up and down the stairs and I've noticed something interesting: I keep tripping when going up the staircase. I trip daily, sometimes every single time I go up. It's the fifth step usually that trips me, although sometimes it's the fourth and sometimes I make it higher up before tripping. The shoes that I am wearing, the slippers, the bare feet: none of these seem to make a difference. I have not done a full face plant yet, but I had to catch myself numerous times either by landing on my hands or grabbing the railing.

I asked my husband whether he shares a similar experience and he shrugged, saying that it does not happen to him, so there is most likely no inherent defect with the steps.

After reading "At Home" by Bill Bryson I appreciate a bit more what it takes to make a functional staircase. There are rules for making steps not too steep, not too high, not too shallow yet elevated enough to bring one up in elevation. I have no reason to suspect that I have an unusual staircase in my house. Stairs are made to be uniform so that one does not have to think about how to place one's feet going up. One is supposed to establish a rhythm and follow it and the steps are specifically uniform so that one does not trip and fall.

So what is going on?

The original steps, used by pilgrims

When we were in Israel, in Jerusalem, we were taken to the side area of the Kotel. (Forgive me for not recalling its proper name: I had a hot sleeping two year old on my back). There was an expanse of stone steps, most likely from the time of the Second Beis Hamikdash. The first and most noticeable fact is that they are not uniform: each one is different in size. The purpose of this was to grab attention of all those approaching and remind them: be mindful of where you place your feet, you are about to rendezvous with the Divine and that can only be done by making every step count.

Why can't I fall into an easy rhythm while going up a regular staircase in my house? Why are my feet not on autopilot? Why do they seek novelty around that fifth step? Am I subconsciously bored with the routine of climbing up and I make my own diversion? Or am I too mindless in climbing those stairs and I need to pay more attention where my feet land?

7 yo and 4 yo descending. The closer up steps are a recent renovation.

I keep thinking how so much of what brings pleasure in life is the balance between familiarity and novelty, between routine and excitement. Yet often I wish for normalcy when life hands me adventure and vice versa. I am not sure how much of this is my ingrained dissatisfaction with status quo, whatever it happens to be, and how much of it is not having control over which period of life I will be in.

In the meanwhile, I'll watch my step.

"What do you do all day?"

Yesterday, at breakfast that is nowadays a blur of cereal bowls, not-yet-packed lunches and 2 yo asking to be fed, as I hastily slurp my pre-driving coffee, a child asked me: "Mom, what are you really good at?" A question like that is the reason I feel like I have been living a midlife crisis even though I am technically too young for one. I retorted: "Keeping you all alive!" while thinking "Oh my gosh, what AM I good at? Obviously nothing visible, otherwise I would not be asked. Corollary: I am good at nothing. What am I doing with my life? What kind of a role model am I to my children?They caught on that it's all a sham. They will never grow up to be productive individuals..."

Before the train of thought went too far, 4 yo piped in: "You are very good at driving!" Yes, I drive. I drive a lot.With kids at three schools, all I do is drive: drop them off and pick them up. Drive to gymnastics. drove to taekwondo. Drive to museums. Drive to the park, to the store, to appointments. Drive to an aquarium out of state. I drive. I AM good at driving.

After agreeing with him, I thought out loud: "I am also getting good at just being. Not doing things, but just being me." That one sailed over their heads and my husband raised his eyebrows, but it's true. This past year has been a steep learning curve in getting good at just being. I can wrap it up in fancy terminology like developing potential, aligning heart, soul and body, self-actualization, transcendental meditation, self-awareness. I can wrap it up in less flattering terms like self-care, laziness, ennui, indulgence. But, essentially, this past year I have hit a brick wall where the question "What do I want?" had to be answered and not dismissed. I started with what I do NOT want. I did not want to multitask. I did not want to carve out time to "get things done" or be superproductive or accomplish amazing feats. I did not want those motivational quotes that passive-aggressively suggest that only if you tried harder and wanted it badly enough, you could do anything. I will not climb Mount Everest. I will not hack my way through jungles. I will not conduct scientific research in Antarctica. Besides, when you are so busy striving to achieve one thing or another, you are by definition not at peace. You get the adrenaline rush of action.You get dopamine load of achievement, finishing that marathon, climbing that mountain, getting that promotion. But the next day, when the hoopla subsides, you face yourself in the mirror and there is no more rush to carry the day. And you are still you. Are you at peace with what you see? Hint: strive and strife are related. Or are you still not enough and you need to prove to the world that you are more than what they see? Moreover, is your harsh inner critic still at it: you are just faking it. If you stop doing all these amazing things, they (whoever they are) will see that you are a fake.

So I have been not doing much.

"What are you doing?" Not much.

I used to judge others harshly for that. I was worried that if I did not judge others first, they would judge me. They would see through me and expose me as a fraud. So better run, keep busy, go places, do things. It is preferred to do things that come with external tangible recognition. Trophies, plaques, diplomas, awards, raises, mementos are all fair game.

But five years of homeschooling changed that. Moreover, the foray into unschooling did more for me than the time we spent poring over the workbooks and curriculum. I had to decide: what do I really need my kids to know so they can function in the world on their own? Not ancient Roman history. Not quadratic equations. The more I thought and the more I observed, the more I smashed my preconceived notions of what kind of education matters. I saw my children just being, and being happy at that. I saw them delight in playing in the creek, or in the sand, or lounging on the couch, or rereading the same book for the fiftieth time. I saw them find alone time and time to ask others to join the game. I saw them pick up objects and craft them. I saw them talk to each other, blurt out things, spontaneously dance, swing babies around, make surprises.

But I saw them just being.

Unfortunately, I had to sacrifice their state of being for my being. I spent the last thirteen years parenting in a very hands-on way. There was a lot to do, and it was never-ending. There was nursing and diapering and blowouts and accidents and hours on the potty and hours of laundry. There were meals to plan, shop for, cook, set up, clean up. There was instructing and cajoling and bickering and imploring and fighting. But there was so much doing. Now that my older ones are 11 and 13, the doing does not end once the younger ones go to bed. They want to do stuff with me.They want to talk to me. They want to show me that latest craze. Oh, odfI am deeply grateful that they share a bit of what makes them tick with me, but that time to BE that could have come with early bedtime is not there for me anymore.

I did not use to feel this way. I think it took five kids and over ten years of this intense doing for me to reach the point where I could not postpone my being any longer. I needed to look in the mirror and truly think about what I see, not just how prudent the image appears to the rest of the world.

The scary part is that I don't know where this journey will take me.Will I get my bearings to homeschool again? Will I utterly disconnect from my kids? Will I pick up a new profession, craft, hobby? Will I spin out of control, lose touch with reality?

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 the story of Yehudah and Tamar

We are up to the story of Yehudah and Tamar with 10 yo. I might have chosen to approach this whole issue with trepidation. But I didn't. I already told him the story a few years ago on a walk to shul, so he knew the basic outline. Now, I did not remember which details I told him and which I left out, but I also know that he spent enough time reading Chumash to have stumbled onto this little bit on his own.

We were up to the pesukim where Tamar removes her widow's garb, wraps up in a scarf and covers her face and Yehudah thinks her a prostitute. I made sure that he knew that Yehudah was not married at this point, that Torah is not given (10 yo brought up an issue of kosher food for Tamar to find at the crossroads), and that Tamar feels that she is still married to this family. 10 yo thought that Tamar must have looked like a hippie, wrapped in scarves. I smiled at the image.

My next stumble was that word "zona" (prostitute). He has no concept of what it means, so just telling him the word and expecting him to parrot it back did not make sense. I said that a man could pay a woman to have sex with her one time, without any expectation of marriage, and that is what happened here. 10 yo: either Yehudah was very rich, or Tamar was very poor. I said that she was still bound to the family, and she was expecting to get married to Shelah, which she saw was not happening. I made it clear that Tamar did not do this for money. 10 yo said, like Ruth, she also went and found the man she was supposed to get married to. I got excited and asked him to remind me about Ruth at the end of the perek; I don't think he realizes that this little story with Tamar is connected to Boaz. 10 yo got all off track, talking about how Ruth was from Midian. I said, semi-annoyed, she was not from Midian. He corrected that she was from Moav and Moav is related to Yehudah. I was eager to get back on track, and I was not sure whether this whole sidetracking was to avoid this uncomfortable topic. Then I realized that he forgot where Moav came from, so I found those pesukim. He said, oh yeah, Lot and his daughters. And suddenly, a new pattern emerged.

The Jewish monarchy seems to emerge from daring, even blatantly propositioning and decidedly immodest acts of three women: older daughter of Lot seducing her father, Tamar seducing her father-in-law, and Ruth, how do we put it delicately, "uncovering the feet" of Boaz. Lot's daughter gives birth to Moav ( Me Av, from my father). Tamar gives birth to Perez, the ancestor of Boaz. Ruth, a descendant of Moav, unites with Boaz, a descendant of Tamar, to give birth to Davidic dynasty, and, ultimately, Moshiach. From such daring and "coarse" women the light of the world is destined to shine.

Why not from Sorah, the modest tent-dweller? Why not from Tziporah, Moshe's wife? Why does David come from these brazen women? Dovid himself is not exactly a picture of piety and modesty, wrestling lions, waging battles, getting Batsheva. Yet he is "the sweet singer of Israel", and the most famous Jewish king.

Perhaps, for these women it was a matter of seeing an opportunity and taking matters into their own hands. Perhaps these were the women of action, forever altering the course of history. Perhaps we should model our daughters after them instead of passive-aggressive Rachel and Leah.

And perhaps there is nothing unseemly in explaining the actions going on in Tanach instead of hoping that we can skirt the issue and our kids will learn the story "somewhere else, sometime later, from a morah/rebbe".

hard baby

This last week, I finally said it out loud: my baby is a hard baby! I don't know why it took me so long, but there it is, for all to see. I am not a terrible mother, I just have a tough kid.

Actually, I know why it took me so long: after I had my second boy, after those first two years when he did not sleep through the night despite our best efforts, after running myself crazy, after waiting for him to talk in vain hope that once he can express himself it will get easier, and after telling my husband that I cannot have another kid like this, I might as well face it: 1 yo is most similar in personality to 8 yo.

I probably should be grateful that he does not walk yet, because he will not walk, he will be running. He is pulling off the tablecloth. He is unloading every single cabinet and drawer, for the sheer pleasure of dumping and making noise. He opens the drawers in my childproof kitchen that my daughter never did. (When 8 yo was a baby, we were in a different apartment and I have the whole kitchen gated). He makes a mad dash for the bathroom the second the door opens. He dives off objects, head-first. He takes off on the playground, across cement. He dumps whole buckets of toys. He even tantrums when he cannot get something.

He is 13 months old. He is not even a toddler yet. And he still does not fully sleep through the night. For a while I used to beat myself up about getting up to nurse him, but that beat him yelling and waking up his siblings. Besides, he does not have the same schedule every day, so he does not always get to take all his naps in his crib at the exactly same time. And I do drink coffee, to be functional in the morning. Then I often find myself crashing towards afternoon, so I have some more caffeine. Then the baby does not sleep, so I end up upping my caffeine, to cope. And so it goes.

Actually, I survived college and grad school without drinking any coffee. Having my second boy turned me into a caffeine addict that I am now.

Oh, and I drank all the caffeine I wanted while pregnant and nursing my daughter, but she was sleeping through the night.

I used to say that the baby is at "go with the flow" schedule, but we are hitting a point where he very clearly might not be thriving this way. He is having hard time with Pesach, his favorite foods being Ritz crackers and oatmeal. I have been mixing boiling water into shmura matzo meal, and then adding yogurt and smoothie to that. He has not been thrilled with the rest of the food, either. I sort of do not remember others having such issues. Then there is my 8 yo, rigidly telling me how much he is not enjoying Pesach, his lack of morning bagel, and all those additions to davening and benching.

Here I am, looking squarely at another potentially difficult child. I wish I could "nip it in the bud", apply some magical formula, consult with the experts, and not go down that rabbit hole. I wish this one was obedient, or a listener. Instead, I have a headstrong kid, who already wants to be like his older siblings, and who clearly knows what he wants and does not want and is not shy about it.

I can spend the time hiding under the blankets, closing my eyes, pretending that this is not happening. I can spend the time bemoaning and pitying myself for having all these difficult to control kids.What I can do is embrace my child's personality rather than spend time molding him into somebody else.

on going to school

On Friday, I had a conversation with my sister about kids and she asked me, point-blank, wouldn't 9 yo be better off in school? I said that he does not want to go, but I figured it would be better to ask him directly.

As we were coming back from taekwondo, just the two of us (7 yo exhausted himself throwing a fit over reading a pasuk which took him two minutes to read, but one hour to be anxious about), I said:
"Would you want to go to school, where you would have normal teachers who get a full night of sleep and do not scream at you all the time?"
"No, I do not want to go."
"Even if you end up stuck with a mommy who is going crazy?"
"Yes, I much rather have mommy. School is not bad, but once you have homeschooling, you cannot go back. It is like trading a piece of paper for a lollipop. Would you trade a lollipop back for a piece of paper?"
"But wouldn't there be nice things about school?"
"No, I cannot do well with only half an hour of recess. It is not enough time outside."
"But you have not gone outside the whole day today!"
"Yes, but when I come home, I have a choice of going outside right away."

Then, abruptly switching topics, we found ourselves describing the forces acting on water inside a waterspout. He wanted to know how the water droplets manage to rise up instead of being flung out from spinning. I was just playing along, hoping that whichever explanations were coming to mind were sound. Next thing I know, he is talking about putting a water cannon on top of a highest mountain and shooting water out with such force that it "keeps on missing the ground. I have a science brain, mommy, not math nerdy brain."

I do not know exactly what kind of brain you have, dear child, but it is a thinking brain.

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.

run your family like a business?

Lots of hours nursing means lots of hours reading. I came across this article in Time: Executive Parenting. A similar article can be found here. I found it to be slightly ridiculous. In fact, I even read it out loud to my husband. His first reaction: if we run a family like a business, can we fire people for not performing? Well, of course not! Meanwhile, there is a desire for efficiency and blurring more lines between home and work. If your house is not a place to relax, then what is it? Another stressful environment to be managed?
Anyone who dealt with newborns for a long period of time knows the first rule of newborns: there is no predictability to their schedule, and. therefore, there is no predictability to your schedule. The baby got up, nursed and now he might:

• fall back asleep for five minutes till you put him down
• fall asleep for two hours
• scream and scream
• poop and want to nurse some more
• chill out, look around, and be totally content

Which one will it be? Can you guess whether this is a good time for you to start on a major project, or will you be interrupted every five minutes trying to soothe a baby? No wonder so many parents are anxious: how come you are doing the same thing, but getting vastly different results? Moreover, if a baby cries, is he evaluating your performance and finding it lacking? Easier to hand the kid over to daycare, tell them to feed formula (in easily measurable amounts, but this is a topic for another post), and go on with your predictable workday.

Beyond newborn, how about relationship building? Is it really made out of the same blocks as a team at work? When I was in college, taking a Jewish Philosophy class on the Lonely Man of Faith, my teacher said: never marry a person because you will make a great team. You would be missing the point of connection due to existential loneliness. Or, in other words, no relationship will go far if it's just about efficiency. Dating takes time, and it is convoluted. Relationships bloom when there is time to connect casually and leisurely.

http://cdn.zmescience.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/eco_efficiency_hare_tortoise.jpg

A lot of time is wasted on reading the same story over and over again. A lot of time is spent on taking children out to the park. A lot of time is spent cuddling the boo-boos and tucking kids into bed. But all these moments of a seeming waste of time are building up a relationship. Once the relationship is there, it will not seem odd that a 9 yo will sit everyone down and say that we need to have a family meeting to discuss everyone's grievances, and what's working and what's not. He did that, tonight, just as everyone was getting into pajamas. We did not come up with a mission statement and weekly goals, but everyone got the floor, starting with the baby (he seemed content with life), moving on to 3 yo (she was content playing with her necklace) and then to 7 yo. He brought up again how he wants to go and paint pottery just with me and the baby. 9 yo brought up bigger stuff: sleeping arrangements, dishwasher arguments, sibling arguments, money, going to Israel. I got the floor next. I brought up uneaten camp lunches, and the schedule for next year. Lastly, my husband brought up how he has so little time to spend with us, and to take care of the things he needs to do. We spoke about all these issues in an atmosphere of trust. Everyone had a turn, everyone chimed in with suggestions. Some things were brought up that we, as parents, were not aware of. We resolved quite a few of the issues.

The meeting was a success. What differentiated our meeting from the article was the bottom-up instead of top-down approach. If there is a need for a meeting, we will call a family meeting. If there isn't a need for one, we will not hold it just because it is scheduled in. Moreover, if we discover that a family meeting is not the best way for us to address what ails us, we will try something else. We will not sacrifice relationship building for the sake of efficiency.

Life is a meandering journey, not a sprint. We will get there, but we might as well have fun along the way.

what it takes to survive

This past Sunday was Yom HaShoa. No, I did not do any special activity with the kids, in fact, I am still struggling how to weave Holocaust into our conversations.

What I saw was this article about an extended family of Ukranian Jews surviving while hiding out in a cave. Their story is atypical in that a whole family was intact. The article addresses what the conditions were like in the cave and the evidence found by an expedition many years later of their amazing survival.

What struck me was the last part of the article where a professional caver answers the questions about his search:

Do you think that people today could survive like the families did?

Modern-day people who sit at a computer all day? I would say no for two reasons. First of all, these were hands-on people. They were carpenters and merchants who had to provide for themselves, especially during the occupation. They also grew up knowing the history of the caves in the area and that ancient people lived in them, so they knew it could be done. Secondly, the Stermer grandmother taught her family not to trust authority. At one point, before they fled to the caves, all Jews were told to meet in town and register. The grandmother decided they were not going to go. The family worried but they obeyed the grandmother. That day, in five separate towns, the Germans rounded up thousands of Jews and many were never seen again—it had been a trap. I think people today often don't give themselves the right to question authority.

If, G-d forbid, something like this was to happen again, are we training our kids to survive?

I am thinking about how my kids spent hours exploring our fairly overgrown backyard. The know every nook and cranny of it, they know what it is like to get their hands dirty, to dig with a shovel, to carry rocks, to tie down bushes to make tents. Moreover, they have been carrying all of these activities by themselves while their peers have been obediently sitting at their desks, keeping their hands and notebooks clean, listening to authority, learning how not to speak out of turn and trust adults no matter what.

Years ago, one of the Christian homeschooling curriculum that I encountered emphasized obedience as a good trait. I asked another parent if this is a midda (a character trait) that we cultivate as Jews. She said, no.   Oh, it would be so easy if these kids just listened and obeyed! We are a stiff-necked people, we are stubborn, we question authority. Yesterday, my oldest went a little rant about whether G-d exists and his proof is that he has been asking for Nintendo DS in Shema Koleinu and never got one. If we were Catholic, I was supposed to bop him on the head and say: "Silly! How dare you question the existence of G-d?" But, being Jewish, I explained how everything around him could not be pure coincidence and there must be a Creator who is in charge of the world.

Why so many Jews perished in Holocaust? Why they listened and trusted the powers in charge? Why they did not lift their heads from Talmud pages and university journals and fought for their lives? We say "never again", but why are we relying on others to ensure our survival instead of cultivating this resilience and stubbornness?

what does Judaism mean to you?

Today I got a phone call, asking about homeschooling and one of the questions raised was, what do I do to make being Jewish special to my kids? In other words, how am I assured that my kids will not turn after the surrounding world and abandon Judaism at the first opportunity.

I did not have a good answer on the phone. I said that, in my opinion, for kids, making being Jewish special sometimes leads to being snobby and thinking that others are somehow less than you. I said that my kids are confronted with being Jewish and being different all the time; when they are asked about the head covering, when they are asked how they celebrate holidays, when we skip on certain events because they conflict with Shabbos or take place in a church. They know that they are different. The caller was insisting that I need to make being Jewish special, or it will be too late, and they will be not religious.

Once I got off the phone, I started thinking: do I really need to pull out Uncle Moishy "I am so happy to be a Jew" to increase  my kids' positive feelings about Judaism? Is being Jewish to them all just about restrictions and differences and not fitting in?

Then I thought about the reasons I am homeschooling. One of them, from the outset, was to make Judaism not just something that we do because everyone else is doing it, but to bring meaning and logic to it. When I learn Chumash with 8 yo, I try to stick to the p'shat, and show him how many wonderful lessons we can learn. When we talk about davening, I explain how it builds our relationship with Hashem. When we talk about halacha, I mention the underlying logic. When Israel comes up, it is a holy place, our land, with a long and storied history. When we go to a rally, it is about showing our support for other Jews. Somehow, I hope, my kids get the idea that being Jewish is different and special.

Since this question was still bugging me, I asked the boys during dinner what they thought about being Jewish. In hindsight, it is quite brave, because it is not like they have a choice. 8 yo immediately gave it thumbs-up. 6 yo was more nuanced, he said being Jewish is sometimes good and sometimes bad. I asked him to elaborate. His answer: "It is good because we know about the true G-d, and it is bad because we don't get to do everything." 8 yo changed his mind, and sided with his brother's answer. He added that being Jewish is good when you can say Shema and think about Hashem protecting you. It is bad when you cannot drum on Shabbos, or watch Pokemon.

And that was it, no dwelling on missing out, no confusion over what it means to be Jewish.

So, for now, I think we are OK.

When we were in Houston, an old rabbi gave a d'var torah in which he said an amazing thing. He said that he was not guaranteed that his kids will stay religious, but now, that he sees that his grandchildren are frum, he feels assured that he has a legacy. Think about it: he waited till his grandchildren to see how his children will turn out. There are no guarantees. Nobody knows what will happen. You do your best, and hope for the best. And you think about these things, not just assume that because the kids are getting a Jewish education, or you keep mitzvot, that everything will turn out fine.

What do you do to make sure that your kids feel special about being Jewish?

oil and water do not mix

It's been Tishrei. There have been holidays up to wazoo. There has not been a lot of formal learning going on. Ok, there has not been any formal learning, nothing which produces nice neat worksheets, completed pages, checks, grades, nothing assessable with a multiple choice, fill-in-the-blank standard test. And next week my sister is getting married, in New York, so there won't be any formal schooling taking place till we come back, in the middle of the following week.

A part of me is panicking. That's the part which wants to be able to have something to show for our homeschooling: those pages covered, material taught, worksheets completed. A wiser part of me is saying that there is still tons of learning going on, of the more permanent kind. It is not easily quantifiable and assessable, but it is still there.

For example, our lunch today. We had to run a bunch of errands: fix the car's headlight, get haircuts for all the kids, buy groceries for Shabbos and snacks for the road. As a result we finally got home for lunch by 1:30. The boys asked for pizza bagels and were snacking on veggies dipped in ranch dressing while waiting for them to bake. 8 yo, dreamily: "I wonder what happens when you pour oil into the cup first, and then pour water on top." The teacher in me: "So what do you think happens?" 8 yo:" The water is denser, so it will be on top of oil."

The teacher in me thought of the mistakes in this reasoning. The teacher in me thought of the oil droplets floating on top of the chicken soup. The teacher in me thought that by the point a child reaches 8, he SHOULD know what happens when you mix oil and water. Luckily, the wiser side of me took over.

"Do you think it matters what gets poured in first: oil or water? Why?"
6 yo chimed in that he thinks that oil will float on water because water is heavier. 8 yo maintained that if oil gets poured in first, it gets pushed down by denser water. By that point, we had to try it out. 8 yo was actually surprised that oil floated on top. He was also surprised that it formed bubbles. I asked what happens when you mix juice with water (something we routinely do). There he knew that it stays mixed. I introduced terms "hydrophilic" and "hydrophobic". 8 yo was able to take them apart and figure out their meaning. I explained how oil molecules are afraid of water and try to stick together, looking for each other and holding hands.

The boys added more water to the cup, till the oil layer separated into droplets. Then they stuck their fingers through the oil layer. Then they cleaned up the mess.

Ok, nothing great and amazing here. No scientific breakthroughs, no charts, graphs, not even a short entry in a science notebook. But the difference is, the question came from within, the experiment was designed to answer the question, and 8 yo peacefully acknowledged that his younger brother was right all along. I think that the answer is more likely to linger in his mind this way.

How many times, when I taught science to middle schoolers, I was waiting for them to ask a question and then to come up with an answer! But their minds were more often on the interrupted game of kickball, or the  assigned reading of the day, than on what I wanted them to do. It is impossible to run a classroom like this, waiting for kids to formulate their own burning questions and then figure out how to get answers. Yet, somehow, by the time one reaches graduate school, one is expected to do just that: here is what we know, figure out how to ask what has not been asked yet, and then figure out how to answer that and to prove it. In short, we are doing a lousy job of producing true thinkers.

This is a graphic of the High School report card of John Gurdon, this year's recipient of the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine. Obviously, his teacher did not think much about his abilities. Obviously, this guy did not fit into a neat little box. Obviously this "out-of-box" thinking is what led to his Nobel Prize.

Now, I am not expecting my kids to win Nobel Prizes, but I expect them to think and work beyond what is traditionally expected. The more I think about it, the more I realize that unschooling is a fertile ground, waiting to be mined for gems, beckoning to be explored.

Philosophy or ma'amad har Sinai al regel achad

This morning, we are driving to my chiropractor's appointment. 6 yo and 2 yo davened at home before we left and 8 yo davened in the car, kind of quickly, because he wanted me to turn Handel's "Water Music" back on. Then out of the blue, he asks me, how do we know that Torah is from Hashem? I clarified his question, and I explained that Torah was given to Moshe by Hashem and we have Jewish people gathering around Har Sinai in a public event as proof ( for a thorough article on this approach, click here ). I gave an example of an earthquake which happened when I was  a child. I described my experience and said that the details of it would vary from person to person, but, if he would ask other family members who were there, the basic facts would be the same. Then I explained that if he would ask other people who lived in the same region, they would all tell him about this earthquake and he would have to conclude that it really happened, even if he was not there. Next step is for him to tell his children about this earthquake, and then they would tell their children. That would become a family story, which would be confirmed by children of others, who had the same story. Based on this evidence, one living many years from now would have to conclude that there really was an earthquake. I explained that's the reason that Torah was given in a public ceremony, so that there would be many witnesses to the revelation, and they would all have the same story to tell their children, and to corroborate the written account.

He listened to it and said that he has proof that Torah is not true, why else would it bother telling us everything that is in Breshit ( Genesis)? I said, aha, you hit upon Rashi's question on the first pasuk in the Torah, we was also wondering why the Torah did not start with giving us mitzvot and instead tells us the long story beforehand. I am hoping to show him that Rashi today.

Now this is basic philosophical questions underlying Judaism. I had theses premises explained to me in highschool. I know that I was lucky to go to a school where such questions and discussions were encouraged. I know that there are plenty of kids who grow up doing Torah without ever considering if it's true. It has been hammered into them that it's so and that's the end of the story.

The fact that these questions spontaneously arise in my son's mind and he is willing to discuss them are my proof that I am doing something right with this whole homeschooling thing. I keep thinking how to further our immersion in Torah, the way that we are immersed in science and reading and math.

On the way back, we passed by Best Buy. 6 yo asked, is it really the best buy tat happens inside? I told him that the store would like its customers to think so, even if its products or prices might be inferior. Now this Best Buy was next to The Dump, and that was the next question, how is that a good name for a store? I explained again how it attracts bargain hunters by making them think that whatever's is dumped there must be a good deal. That led to a discussion about opening up a vegetable stand and how one would want to have varied produce for sale, in large enough quantities. Somehow, we were discussing supply and demand, scarcity, pricing. I hope that all these early conversations about consumer economics will have impact later on, when the kids will have to be making purchasing decisions.

Pesach Trivia Questions

I have been thinking quite a bit how to make our seder more interactive for the kids. I have a few ideas, but not sure how many of them I will be implementing and how many of them will go as planned.

I am planning to have a bunch of trivia questions to throw out there whenever the kids will seem bored.

Here is my list ( the last few with asnwers I found online). They skew to the younger side, since I want my 5 yr old to feel that they are "easy-peasy".

1. What are the names of the holiday we are celebrating today?
2. What are the ingredients used to make matzah?
3. What are the names of the grains used to make matzah?
4. What does shmura matzah mean?
5. How long does one have before matzah dough becomes chametz?
6. What are two reasons for eating matzah at the seder?
7. When does one have mitzvah to eat matzah?
8. How many days is Pesach?
9. What happened on Pesach?
10. In which country were Jewish people slaves?
11. How long were they slaves?
12. How many people went down to Egypt?
13. How many people came up from Egypt?
14. Who is not mentioned in the hagaddah, but you cannot tell story of Yetziat Mitzraim without him?
15. How many steps are there at the seder?
16. How many cups are there? Why?
17. Which two korbanot were brought on Erev Pesach?
18. How are we reminded of them?
19. What tefila is said at night ONLY on seder night, but never during the year?
20. What caused Par’o to let the Jews go?
21. Name the makkos.
22. Which makkah is the scariest? ( subjective)
23. What is Shabbat HaGadol?
24. What are you not allowed to do with chametz on Pesach?
25. In which month do we celebrate Pesach?
26. What did Jewish people do in Mitzrayim so that Hashem would skip their houses during the last makkah?
27. Did Jewish people leave Miztraiym rich or poor?
28.  Which “dessert” do we eat tonight?
29. What is charoset?
30. Name Moshe’s brother and sister.
31. Why is Ha Lachma Ania in Aramaic?
32. Who are the four sons?
33. What does Dayeinu mean?
34. When is the right time for the seder?
35. Name the ingredients of Korech.
36. Which tefila is split into two parts during seder?
37. Which way do we recline?
38. Name some halachot of korban Pesach.
39. What kind of meat are we not allowed to eat during the seder?
40. What happened to Mitzrim as they chased Bnei Yisrael?
41. What is the last line in the hagaddah?
42. Where do the pesukim for maggid come from?
43. What happened in Bnei Brak?
44. Find out what Ben Zoma taught.
45. Who fasts right before Pesach and why?
46. Who is the 5th cup for? (Eliyahu)
47. What do we open right near the end of the seder (the door)
48. What do we do while drinking the wine? (lean)
49. Which way do we lean? (left)
50. Why do we eat maror? (bc slavery was bitter)
51. Name a vegetable u can use for karpas?
52. What do we dip karpas in? (salt water)
53. Why salt water? (tears of slaves, bitter)
54. what did the jews do with the blood of the sheep b4 leaving Egypt? (put it on their doorposts)
55. Name the 4 sons? (rasha, chacham, tam, she’eino yodea lisheol)
56. Sing mah nishtana
57. What do we eat with the matzah? (maror and charoset)
58. Name something u can use for maror?
59. How many times do we wash our hands during the seder? (2)
60. How many seders do we have in chutz laaretz? (2)
61. How many seders do Israelis have? (1)
62. Name 3 things that are chametz?
63. What are ways to get rid of chametz? (burn it, throw it out)

If you have any to add, please add! We will all benefit.