Fancy Schmancy Anxiety Maven

Where I'm at:

2008-03-04T19:54:00.005-05:00

I am striving to grow spiritually, and these pursuits take up a lot of my time. At this point I don't feel such a strong urge to write, nor do I seem to have the energy. By the time I finish my daily avoda, I'm exhausted. Between the kids and G-d, I'm just wiped!

I have said that I consider this blog to be an exercise in narcissism, and this has started to bother me more lately. I'm not sure what direction I want to take with the blog, I just know I haven't really wanted to write lately. And not only that, but I haven't felt compelled to read everybody else's blogs (sorry guys, I hope you're all well). I've become sort of indifferent. But in a good way, I guess.

The festival of Purim is fast approaching. One of the lessons we learn from Purim is that it's Here and Now. We must understand that the Purim story is alive and well today, and not read the megilla like it's a history book. On this note, I have been thinking lately that I don't want to be at the feast of Achashverosh any longer. I don't want to drink his wine, I don't want to devour his foods. I no longer want to indulge in the sensual repast he continually offers.

Posts in the future may be sporadic, it's hard to tell right now. Who knows how I'll feel tomorrow? But for now I'm still here, and moving forward. I hope you all are, too. May the double joy of Adar illuminate our entire year, leading us to the ultimate joy of Moshiach Tzidkeinu.

Growing...

2008-02-21T10:28:00.007-05:00

My acupuncturist is out of town. Last week, I visited a new one. Her office was full of natural health magazines, and I started perusing them.

One magazine had a life-coaching column. A guy - let's call him Oscar - wrote about his job. Oscar was in his last year of a job before retirement, and his boss asked him to switch departments. Since he wanted to please his boss, he did. It turned out that his new job was agonizing, and was making his very last year on the job a miserable one.

So the life-coach started analyzing: What could Oscar have done differently to begin with? He could have asked to try the job for a couple of weeks. He could have asked to speak to some other people in that department to "feel things out." He could have been more assertive with his boss. Yet it wasn't only that Oscar wanted to please his boss, they discovered. Oscar was afraid of conflict.

Oscar and the life-coach wanted to figure out how this fear of conflict affected other areas of his life. Oscar realized this was the reason he was still involved in a relationship. He liked this girl very much, but didn't see a future with her. He stayed in the relationship because he was afraid to hurt her, afraid of the conflict that would ensue. The sessions with the life coach gave him the courage to end things. It also cleared up other areas of his life, and helped him end this negative pattern.

I started thinking; I'm a lot like Oscar. There's many choices I've made in my life because I was afraid of conflict - my Hebrew school job is a prime example. When I spoke to my mashpia about taking the job, she wisely advised me to try it for a month. She told me to stipulate this to the Hebrew school director, that I was trying it on a trial basis. When the month came and went, I saw it was too draining on myself and my family. Yet I didn't quit. I blamed it on my tenacity, but this article helped me see the truth. I have stayed in other situations for far too long, being afraid to stand up and make positive change.

My fear of conflict has adversely affected friendships, as well. I have emotionally constipated myself in order to maintain peace, but that's not true peace. And that's not what real friendship is about, either. It took a certain friend to "call me out" on something she didn't like, to give me the courage to move forward and explore this issue.

Anyway, we have this stupid school scholarship dinner coming up. I have to submit an ad to the dinner journal. I typed it up, and made sure to give it to one of the women in charge of journal ads. So last night she said to me, "Maven, are you writing up something for the journal?" And I said, "I gave it to you already, remember?" "Oh yes, that's right." This morning I had to call her about another issue, and the journal ad came up again. She thought perhaps she gave it to the other woman in charge of the journal ads. Would I mind emailing the other woman about it? I almost told her I would send the email. But somehow, I mustered up the courage to say "No."

Now, I didn't say, "This is your drama and you need to resolve it." This particular woman is in a position of authority, and it would be disrespectful of me to tell her to fix it herself. So I just said, "I'm sorry, I won't be near the computer today. If you could email her yourself, that would be helpful." I know I didn't exactly tell the truth. But I didn't put myself in a situation that I would have resented, either.

It feels like a small victory.

Can't win for trying...

2008-02-17T19:55:00.008-05:00

Rivky got a 20.00 Target gift card for her birthday. Since I didn't have to teach this morning, I figured we could take the kids there and run some other errands.

Around and around we went through the toy aisles. Rivky kept asking, "If I buy this, how much money will I have left?" I was totally empathic. I could feel like a 6 year old in a toy store, with so many choices. After half an hour of deep contemplation, she finally decided. Then Chaya piped up and said, "I left my money at home, can you buy me this Polly Pocket and I'll pay you back?" I was ready to say yes, but Yaakov beat me to the punch. "No, you have enough Polly Pockets." Since Yaakov said no, I wasn't about to disagree with him in front of the kids. Thus began the Target Soap Opera.

Chaya started to cry faster than you could say "Drama Queen." She really went to town. I said, "You can hold the Polly Pocket while we finish shopping," but she would not stop carrying on. We passed the furniture section and there were these 2 big chairs. So I said, "Chaya, have a seat and get it all out. When you're done, we'll move on." She cried, rationalized, begged and pleaded. I sat in the other chair and sympathized with her. When she was done we started walking, but then she started crying all over again. Back to the chairs! This happened one more time before she was through. Then we went to the little CD listening station and sampled "relaxing" CD's. That's when Yaakov and the boys caught up with us.

She started welling up at the cash register again. She placed her Polly Pocket underneath the Chapsticks and Tic-Tacs, leaving her alone on her funeral pyre. I felt Chaya needed to mourn, so I didn't bother to calm her.

The rest of the day was more of the same, different kids with different meltdowns. I finally lost my temper at the end of the day, and I almost called a friend for a cigarette.

Almost.

Yes We Can!

2008-02-14T04:44:00.013-05:00

The other day Yaakov started doing this funky dance around the kitchen. "I got the Obama groove," he informed me. We giggled.

Both of us were enamored with Republican Ron Paul, so I know full well that Yaakov isn't down with Barack Obama. But what is it about that guy?

I've been thinking about this "Obama Magic" that pundits have been palavering over. He is just magnetic. I mean, first of all, he's a handsome guy. And those teeth! Those beautiful white teeth against that smiling black face! And speaking of blackness, it's a major factor. He's black enough for black folks, but not "too black" (Jessie Jackson, Al Sharpton) to scare away us honkies. He appeals to a broad spectrum of people, and has tailored his campaign to do so. And another point, his race makes him different. People want different now.

He's intelligent and well-educated. He's a great orator and he inspires. When he's not debating issues, he's giving these "Up With People" victory speeches. He makes you feel good: good about the country, good about yourself. He makes you want to change things for the better. That's his mantra - CHANGE. He's certainly made enough positive changes in his own community.

People like to caricature his Muslim background. They send out emails that he was sworn into office on a Koran or he wouldn't pledge allegiance. People want to turn him into a closet Islamo-facist. I think it's hogwash. His political track record is strongly pro-Israel, something I doubt many terrorists can claim. Besides, am I the only one who considers his Muslim background favorable when it comes to foreign diplomacy?

Even though he is thoroughly LESS experienced than Hillary, he makes his Washington newbie status a plus. He's not the "same old, same old" Washington bureaucrat. He's also chivalrous! Did you see how he pulled out Hillary's chair after their ~~date~~ debate at the Kodak? Even though they're more or less politically aligned, there's something fresh and beautiful about Barack Obama. It's a charm, a sense of humor...something.

I can't say I'm politically on the same page as Senator Obama, but I'd savor an Obama victory far more than a Clinton or McCain one. What can I say? He's special.

The Facts of Life.

2008-02-05T06:47:00.001-05:00

Last night while bathing 8 year old Chaya, she asked, "Why are boys' bodies and girls' bodies different?" I answered stupidly, "I don't know, why do you think?" (I thought maybe she heard something in school.) "I don't know," she shrugged. "Maybe it's because boys and girls grow up and do different things," I suggested. "Yeah," she said. "Like girls grow up to be movie stars and boys grow up to be fix-it men." "Or maybe," I said, "It's because boys grow up to be rabbis and girls grow up to be mommies?" "Or rebbetzins," she smartly rejoined.

That closed the conversation - for now. But I know there will be a time when it's opened again, and this simple answer will not be enough.

I belong to a message board for frum women, and this topic comes up from time to time. I'm surprised by the things I learn from the women who post. Many women write that when they were (religious) teens, they heard all about this from their peers in school. Some ladies from uber-chassidish homes say they only learned about it before they got married (and a few were extremely disturbed and upset). Some ladies wrote that their mothers gently told them, when they asked. I think I'm going to end up being one of those latter mothers. Chaya is too smart and too curious, and I know the day will come when the truth must be told.

I just hope it doesn't happen anytime soon.

I Can...

2008-01-31T12:23:00.000-05:00

AidelMaidel tagged me to do this "I can" list. It's basically a list of things I can do, all written within 15 minutes.

Here goes!

I CAN:

bake challah
balance a checkbook
lose weight
have a baby naturally
play a mean game of scrabble
procrastinate
write well
clean a tushie
pass an algebra exam
play chess
be sympathetic
teach hebrew school
tell a good dirty joke (not at hebrew school)
ignore the phone
make sushi
appreciate scatalogical humor
massively obsess
compose poetry
do chesed
keep secrets
make friends
give in
be stubborn
make great chocolate cake
be thoughtless
braid hair
be tenacious (not the same as stubborn)
quote star wars verbatim
share scary/painful things
admit when I'm wrong
organize
bite my nails like nobody's business
remember things
write mitzva notes
do laundry
tip well
be a great wife
clean for pesach
love my children
forgive others/myself
lie if I must
shut up
be diplomatic (same as shutting up?)
do great things with tofu
take an elevator all by myself!!!

I am not officially "tagging" anyone, but if you want to do your own "I can" list, guess what? YOU CAN!

Debate wrap-up:

2008-01-30T23:33:00.000-05:00

Yaakov: Is that Anderson Cooper?
Me: Yeah, and I don't like him. He's too gevurahdik.
Yaakov: He looks like a metrosexual.
Me: Did you just say that?

Election 2008

2008-01-30T13:58:00.000-05:00

John Edwards dropped out. He was a good guy, honest, and he served his constituents well. I wonder if he'll be chosen as a running mate by the Democratic primary winner? I also can't help but wonder what will happen to his beautiful campaign bus now that he's gone...

Giuliani also dropped out. That was a good move for him and his health. If McCain wins the primaries, I definitely think he'll choose Rudy as his running mate. I think Huckabee and Ron Paul should give it up, too. Let's face it, folks. It's gonna be Obama vs. Clinton, and McCain vs. Romney in the end.

I used to feel very strongly that Hillary was going to win the primaries, but I'm not so sure now. Obama has all this support from people who are enchanted by his "aura of change." He has momentum and magic, a presence. I don't think people are so crazy about Hillary right now, or her husband. People want change, and she represents Washington politics as usual.

To my understanding, CNN is sponsoring the Republican debate tonight and the Democratic one tomorrow. And you know what that means: live internet feed!

That also means yours truly has two nights of entertainment booked.

p.s. I totally forgot the McCain-Lieberman connection. Maybe he'd choose Joe instead? That would round out his ticket for more moderate voters, I guess.

Yay, me!

2008-01-29T13:49:00.000-05:00

Today I took an elevator all by myself. Twice!

Normally, if I have to use an elevator, I call Yaakov and talk to him the entire ride. But today, I gussied up the courage and did it alone. Both ways. I won't say that I wasn't scared, because I was - terrified. But I did it.

I'm proud of myself!

Jews for Mitt?

2008-01-27T01:00:00.000-05:00

Bill of Goods.

2008-01-25T10:48:00.000-05:00

Last night's Republican debate was sponsored by MSNBC, so Yaakov and I got to watch via live internet feed. As you may know, I find politics interesting and entertaining.

Mitt Romney was a polished speaker. I admired how he held his ground when questioned about personal monies being spent on his campaign. I disagreed with his assessment of Hillary Clinton, however, that she was "out of touch" with the American people. Plenty of people like her, so she must be in touch with somebody.

John McCain doesn't interest me one way or the other. He likes to name-drop his supporters, which he did. Twice. Not impressed.

Rudy Giuliani answered some tough questions with humor and grace, which earned my admiration. I like how he said that he was planning on making a come-back, like the NY Giants.

Ron Paul was his usual self. I cheered his adamant "NO," when asked whether the current war was a good idea. He's the only Republican to have consistently voted against the Iraq war. I admire his radical underdog status.

Mike Huckabee delivered 3 or 4 funnies, which I like about him. I also like how he stood firm when questioned about his faith. He has HUGE ears. And I still think he resembles Richard Nixon.

Mitt Romney fielded an interesting question when asked about his faith. It was something like, how could people vote for a Mormon? (In other words, how could people vote for a guy with such crazy religious beliefs?)

The minute the question came up, Yaakov began singing the infamous "Dumb, Dumb, Dumb, Dumb, Dumb" song from the South Park "Mormon episode." I turned to him and said, "What? All religious people have been sold a bill of goods. You don't think we believe some weird stuff?" Yaakov looked surprised and asked, "Aren't you frum? Moshe Emes v'Torah Emes." (Moses is true and Torah is true.)

Ok, fine. But still. I mean, Noach and the Teiva? Yona in the fish's belly? You could go on and on with the bizarre and irrational stuff found in Yiddishkeit. I don't find my incredulousness out of order, I think it's a common dissonance. Besides, there's an idea (which I've blogged about), that "a Jew is above reason." Once you start getting into issues of faith, a Jew goes beyond logic. I lump all Jewish weirdness into that category.

So Mitt, if you want to believe in Joseph Smith and his golden plates, gezunter heit. I believe in some strange stuff, too.

Sigh.

2008-01-22T14:42:00.001-05:00

It's the second day of school vacation, and we're all housebound since 2 of the kids have fevers. I'm sick of everybody being sick! Is my house not clean enough? Am I not feeding them well enough? Why is everyone constantly sick with something?

Yaakov took down all our mezuzos to get checked - there's a concept that flawed mezuzos can lead to household calamities. Nope, the mezuzos were all kosher. I am trying hard to make sure they eat a little better. I'd also like to put them on immune boosting vitamins.

I was asked to make a sheva brocha on Thursday night, but I had to say no. With this new wave of sickness going around here, I don't think I can pull it off.

In other news, it's tu b'shvat, the "birthday of trees." The rebbe said that just like trees constantly grow, so we too can grow in torah and mitzvos. So with G-d's help I can "grow" better, and take care of my little seedlings, too.

Sigh.

Thank you, G-d.

2008-01-20T22:56:00.001-05:00

Zalman had this scab on his finger, and all around its circumference it was red and puffy. I was concerned, and wanted to take him to the pediatrician. Yaakov said, "it's nothing, all kids get boo-boos."

He had the red, puffy boo-boo for about a week and I kept my eye on it. Last Monday night I looked at it, and it had turned yellowish-green around the scab. "Tomorrow I am taking him to the doctor," I told Yaakov. "It's infected, and I'll bet he's going to put him on antibiotic." Yaakov waved me off.

The pediatrician was very concerned. "Oooh, that looks bad," he said, knitting his brow. "That looks bacterial. I'm going to culture it." He squeezed Zalman's pinkie finger and swabbed the yellow pus - while poor Zalman screamed his head off. He put him on an antibiotic and told me he'd call in a few days, when the lab results were in. I told the doctor I'd been concerned for about a week already, but Yaakov told me not to worry about it. He rolled his eyes. "All fathers are like that," he laughed. "It's the mothers who know what's going on." (Yeah, but what if the mother's an Anxiety Maven?)

Erev shabbos I got a phone call: "Mrs. Maven? It's Dr. B. Your son has a staph infection." If I tell you my heart stopped at that moment, I would not be exaggerating. A staph infection? How did that happen? He went on to explain it was MRSA. He explained how the antibiotic he had given me (Augmentin) is composed of 2 different components. The staph would NOT have responded to one (amoxicillin). He said potentially, staph could respond to the other (clavulanate potassium). I could hear the gravity in his voice: we got lucky. He switched Zalman to Bactram (an antibiotic more suited for staph) and we wished each other a gut shabbos. So far, he's had 5 doses of the Bactram, and Baruch Hashem, his finger looks good. Dr. B is very pleased.

I don't need to say (kin ayin hara) what the drastic end of staph can be. What if Zalman had a case of the poops, or his immune system was weak in other ways? How would he have responded to this infection? What would have happened if I didn't go to the doctor? What if the infection spread to the other kids...

I could not help but think of a saying attributed to Rebbe Nachman of Breslov: "If we only understood how at every moment it's as if we are literally drowning. We don't realize how G-d is constantly saving us..."

Still here...

2008-01-18T09:30:00.001-05:00

Yaakov has been working late into the night and I am busy all day long. I haven't gotten the chance to blog, or sort out my thoughts coherently. Ironically enough, I'm blogging now (erev shabbos!), when I have so much to do.

We've had a lot of health issues in the Maven home, including another case of the infamous "poops." We have a scarier issue, but I'm not ready to write about it yet. Maybe when things are all clear, I'll feel comfortable sharing.

Chess wizard Bobby Fischer died. He was Jewish, a fact he never consciously internalized. Of course, his soul knew, and likely cringed every time Bobby spewed his anti-semitic garbage. Now his soul is free from the body that refused to acknowledge it. Mazal tov to the neshoma of Bobby Fisher!

The presidential race rages on, a source of great entertainment. If I had a TV, I'd be glued to it. I have to read and watch political clips online. One of you commented about Ron Paul, how he's supported by white supremacists. I have read more about this, and find it intriguing. (I heard David Duke called him "his god.") Ron Paul is radical, and I think he appeals to their radical weirdness. Of course, he has people of all colors and beliefs supporting him. He won't win, anyway. I heard a political commentator call him "the weird uncle who needs medication," and I think that's comically accurate. By the way, am I the only one who thinks Mike Huckabee looks like Richard Nixon?

Our health insurance has been going through all kinds of craziness. First, Yaakov's work tells him they are switching to insurance x as of January 1st. Then they switch to insurance y, only to give us our paperwork 12 days into the year. Then they tell us they are, in fact, switching to insurance x, and then send us a new policy from insurance y! Needless to say, this is frustrating. Yaakov says the people handling the health insurance are retarded.

My brother is living in Jerusalem with his long-time American girlfriend. They went to some protest rallies when President Bush was visiting. It's amazing hearing about his life and seeing the pictures. I miss them both.

On Monday, my kids start a week of school vacation. I both dread and anticipate this.

Anyway, I hope you're all well out there. I wish you a gut shabbos and a great weekend!

Adventures in Gung-Gung Land:

2008-01-07T07:52:00.000-05:00

Dad left yesterday.

This trip was his best one ever. He wasn't gripped by mania, and he wasn't totally depressed. He was on an even keel: warm, silly, talkative. He was generous with his time and money, and excellent with the kids.

He kept telling them all these crazy things, that he was from "Gung-Gung Land" or Rhodesia. He told them all the funny things they did in those places, like eat berries all day or live in trees like the monkeys.

He gave the kids stickers and let them put stickers on his face. When it was time to go out, I'd gently remind him about the stickers. "I don't care," he'd shrug, and off we would go. Gung-Gung in his pink, jeweled beret with stickers on his face.

He took himself off all his meds, and is eating a very healthful diet ("The way the 7th Day Adventists eat," he informed me). He's exercising a lot. At every free moment, he was working with his resistance bands, or marching in place, or doing yoga. Now I'll bet you might be thinking, "I dunno - sounds pretty manic to me." And maybe for a normal person, his behavior would be. But knowing how batty Dad can really get, he was downright tame.

On the last day of his trip, he was heading off on a cruise to the Bahamas. He wore a sailor hat, and one of his navy-issued button downs. Underneath was a shirt that read, "I'm smiling because I have no idea what's going on."

!!!

We'll miss him.

Crushed.

2008-01-03T23:05:00.001-05:00

So, the news I was hoping to share in a couple of months was that we were buying a house.

Such a house! New bathrooms, wonderful backyard (with a swing-set that came with it), lots of space. Beautiful laundry room, all tile and wood. Big spacious kitchen. Plus, Yaakov and I both liked it!

There are currently tenants there. When we spoke to the seller's agent, he said the owner had given the tenants first rights to buy the home. Fair enough. The owner told the tenants a year ago he wanted to sell, and the tenants weren't interested. "Aha," said cynical I. "What if the tenants suddenly decide to buy, once someone makes an offer?" The agent reassured me that the seller wouldn't play that game. "Once he's in contract with someone, that's the end. The tenants know they have to move."

Alrighty, then. We negotiated a price and were "in contract." We had to go back and forth a little bit to get all the details settled, and finally they were. We started arranging the formalities. Termite check, house inspection, roofer - all coming early next week.

All along I had this feeling that something was going to go wrong. Somehow, the tenants living there were going to usurp the contract. "No way," Yaakov said. "Don't worry about it," Mom said. I dunno - I know plenty of people in contract with houses where the contract fell through. But that wasn't going to happen to us, I was assured.

Today, Yaakov called. "You want the good news or the bad news?" My heart sank. I just knew what was coming. "Bad news first," I answered. "The bad news is, the tenants are refuting the contract." I somehow expected this, but was stunned nonetheless. What could possibly be the good news? "The good news is, we weren't so far into the deal." Well, I guess so - only three weeks. But my heart and soul were already there. That was the only thing keeping me going as I scrubbed poop out of carpets. "Don't worry," sang my heart. "You'll be leaving this all behind."

I feel the way this went down was terrible. The tenants infuriate me. The house was offered to them a year ago. All of a sudden, NOW, they want to pull this crap? After the seller puts a sign up and someone makes an offer? Apparently, they have legal recourse. It says in their lease they have the right to refuse a sale, if they can come up with the financing themselves. But still! Everybody involved is Jewish, but I feel the way this is happening is not.

What makes me even angrier is that I tried to do the right thing. The people living there just had a baby, and I told Yaakov I wasn't going to force a post-partum woman out of her home. I wanted to make sure we negotiated a contract that would give her enough time. I spoke to a mashpia, and made sure the time we arranged would be fair. So there's me, being a mentsch, and there's them, being jerks. I mean, is it just me? Does this situation sound wrong to you?

And I hate feeling so angry towards other Jews. There's a part of me that desperately hopes they don't get a mortgage. I don't want to feel like that, but I feel so betrayed. I feel like they pulled a dirty trick, I really do. Right or wrong, that's how I feel right now.

I started crying tonight. Yaakov was rationalizing it all to me, trying to explain it from the tenants' perspective. I was furious. I felt like he wasn't giving me the space to mourn, that he was taking their side, and invalidating my feelings. We got into a terrible fight. These past few weeks have been so stressful for us...between this house, Yaakov's job, and our insurance changing, it's been awful. And I only told my mother and brother about it, so I didn't have support from my friends.

The bright spot was, we were going to leave this loathsome house. I clung to that with mighty vigor. But now, that's gone too. The lawyer involved said, "I guess it wasn't bashert."

I guess not.

...?

2007-12-31T22:19:00.001-05:00

I just had some problems with Blogger, saying my password was incorrect, blah blah. The problem seems to have resolved itself (hopefully). If you never hear from me again, the insidious Blogger overlords have locked me out. Just saying.

New year's on the secular calendar means zilch to me, but if it means something to you, mazel tov. (Dad told me that 2008 is a very lucky year according to Chinese astrology, 8 being a magic Chinese number.)

And speaking of Dad, he's supposedly arriving on Wednesday morning. He sent his special "surprise box" about a month ago. My kids associate him with take-out food, so Rivky has already inundated me with restaurant requests. I hope the visit will be normal, but that's highly unlikely. Yay, Dad!

I was rummaging through a box the other day, and found a response card to my wedding: "I hope you don't have any long strange trips!" I also found the entire broken plate from my engagement, wrapped in 2 paper bags. I chucked it. I already have a big shard of it, why do I need to save the whole plate (nu?). For now, being organized trumps being sentimental.

Zalman seems to have recovered from his second bout of Rotavirus, though I still periodically have to scrub the carpets. The smell does not go away!

Today, I told a friend about some things from my pre-frum past. It seemed so far away, and yet it was such a part of me. And I felt kind of weird to tell her, but safe and loved at the same time. So it was weird and okay, all at once.

There are some unusually stressful things happening, which I cannot talk about at present. I hope to be able to share some good things in a couple of months. I know I haven't been posting a lot lately, but I'm still here. I hope you are, too.

The forgotten poem.

2007-12-25T11:02:00.000-05:00

Last night I found something I wrote years ago:

One of the most beautiful things
I have ever seen
is not so infrequent;
yet each time,
it moves me so -
I stop to watch the scene
repeat itself yet again.
This morning in 770,
Two chassidim,
in a moment of warmth,
gave each other a tender glet on the cheek.
One, holding the other's face
gently in his wrinkled hands,
placed upon his cheek a kiss
of sweetest tenderness.
I have seen,
in moments of unabashed delight,
chassidim kiss each other squarely on the mouth.
There is no shame in ahavas yisroel,
no implications
no entendres
that engender fear of love,
or blatant affection.
I live in a world
where men laugh together,
adjust each other's tefillin,
chat nakedly in the mikveh,
and kiss,
and this is one of the most beautiful things
that I have ever seen.

Once Upon a Time...

2007-12-23T23:38:00.000-05:00

Today we went to Mom's house. She had computer issues that Yaakov could fix. I wasn't worried about Zalman, we'd be near a bathtub if he had an "episode." We brought lots of diapers, wipes, and changes of clothes, too.

While at Mom's, we watched a video of Chaya (first kid). In the video, she was 18 months old - same age as Zalman is now. I could not believe her verbal skills! I could not believe what I was doing with her! I was daavening with her, giving tzedoka with her, saying the 12 pesukim with her. My 18 month old! When I was saying aleph-beis with her on the video, she actually knew the next letter coming. Shocking!

In the video, I was pregnant with Rivky. Watching myself on the screen, I thought I looked so young and beautiful, yet it was only 6 years ago. I was amazed as I ran around the playground with Chaya, big and pregnant like that. I remembered how I would take Chaya there practically every day, walking down Eastern Parkway.

Then there's Chaya, Mommy, and Tatty in Prospect Park Zoo (it was Parshas Noach). There's Chaya feeding the goats! There's Mommy laughing at the cows! There's Tatty marveling at the chameleon! I spent the whole video laughing and chattering away with Chaya. And then, I got the biggest shock of all:

I was happy.

I wasn't anxious about my other kids and their whereabouts. I wasn't worried about their safety. I wasn't agonizing over the fact that this one was scratching that one and that one was biting this one and this one was tattling on that one. I didn't have to meet everybody's needs all at once. It was just me, Tatty, and our one beautiful child.

...Sigh...

It's Official:

2007-12-23T06:04:00.000-05:00

Zalman has Rotavirus again. Or as we call it, "The Poops."

Shabbos he had three crazy poops, all requiring bathtub clean-up. The poop is insane - liquid and insidious. Up his back and down his legs, in his hair and on his face. The weirdest thing is that generally, his hands aren't even involved. It sorta migrates up his shirt. And the smell - va voy! Not your average poop: putrid and sickly.

And the worst of it all? We have carpet. And yes, I've had to scrub it out. Vomit, too. I can't wait to get into a house that has tile. Yaakov reminded me that if this stuff gets into tile grout, it's hard to remove, too. But it can't be as bad as carpet, I reason. Carpet hangs on to microbes and things - I saw a movie about it in high school biology. They used scanning electron microscopes over household carpet. Every time I'm scrubbing them, I remember.

Anyway it's after 6am and Zalman just had another "episode." He was sleeping in bed with me when I heard the familiar gurgling. Uh-oh. I gingerly removed him from my bed, and went out to get gloves and some plastic bags. Now I'm not squeamish about body fluids, not by a long shot. But this poop gets everywhere. By the time I got back, he was crying hysterically and the poop was on the carpet. Yay. It was also of the migratory variety. Sigh. So I cleaned him up and walked him to our shower, but not before he peed somewhere else on the carpet and then on our bath rug. (In our family, when we do a job, we do it right.) The good news is, when we got out of the bathroom, Yaakov was awake and scrubbing the floor.

I'm reminded of what his pediatrician told me last time: there's a vaccine for rotavirus. "I'm sure you're not interested." I dunno - right now, a vaccine sounds pretty nice! Of course, I won't - it would only be for my convenience. It doesn't really bother Zalman so much. Initially he gets upset, but calms down when he's all cleaned up. I'll put him on the "BRAT" diet and see how that goes.

Yesterday, when Yaakov was leaving for shul, I had another poop episode to contend with. "Could be worse," he noted. "We could be praying for years and years to have children." He's right, of course. Nonetheless...

Life with kids can be pretty crappy sometimes.

Just a Geek...

2007-12-19T20:44:00.000-05:00

Today was Yaakov's 39th birthday. He was also in NY on business. So I was brainstorming on what to get, hoping to have a nice present waiting for him when he gets home.

I couldn't think of anything. I've bought him ties before, so that's old news. He doesn't wear jewelery. He has enough Patchouli oil in the bathroom cabinet. I found his book-light, so I don't need to buy another one of those. He doesn't smoke anymore, so I can't buy him pipe tobacco or fancy Nat Sherman's. I thought of getting him a gift certificate for a massage, but I knew he wouldn't be into it. I even thought of calling his Grateful Dead buddies, to ask if they'd let him sit in on bass. But I knew if I did that, Yaakov would think I was being "pushy."

So what to get for such a man? I decided that a book would be the way to go. But which one? He owns practically every sci-fi book known to man. I bought him the Steve Wozniak autobiography already. I recently purchased a book on steam trains for him, and he has tons of NASA/space books. He's been learning Rambam's "Mishneh Torah," but I don't know what sefer he's in. I couldn't think of another Jewish book he would like, and I wanted it to be a surprise.

And then it hit me: "Just a Geek," by Wil Wheaton. I was so proud of myself! Wil Wheaton is the counter-culture star for nerds and trolls. And since Yaakov is happy to be alone, all day long, programming computers, he can safely be put into that category (and I say that with great affection).

So anyway, I started to call the local bookstores. "Just a Week?" "No no, Just a GEEK, by Wil Wheaton." "Wheaton: W-H-E-A-T as in Tony-O-N." I started calling other bookstores. I called bookstores that were an hour away. Nobody had this book! I was getting so tired of saying the book name, over and over again. The worst was when when an employee actually read the subtitle to me: "Unflinchingly honest tales of the search for life, love, and fulfillment beyond the Starship Enterprise." I wanted to die in a pool of nerdiness.

Each book store told me they could order it, but I can do that from Amazon. What I want is a wrapped present for when he arrives home.

So Yaakov, if you're reading this, happy birthday. I really tried to get you a gift.

The Beauty Queen:

2007-12-14T02:57:00.001-05:00

I've long held a notion about the power of beauty. It's undeniable. It can be a force for change. I can't really explain myself well on this matter - it's a strong feeling, though.

So there's a woman in my community who's a total knock-out. She's also immodest. She wears short skirts (with slits), tight shirts, and no socks or stockings. Her wig is long and flowing, like a shampoo poster girl's. Every time I see her I think, "Man, she is really something." You cannot help but be affected by her!

Now let me backtrack a little and talk some chassidus. There's a concept of, "you spot it, you got it." In other words, if you notice something about someone else, likely it's a problem you have yourself. You might say, "Well how can a person fail to notice certain things about another?" Aha! So the concept goes a little further: If what you notice makes you angry, you can be certain it's a trait you share.

To be fair; I personally feel I have modesty issues. They don't manifest in clothing, but my thoughts could use some work. This lady doesn't anger me, she intrigues me. Does she realize her power? How does she feel when she looks in the mirror? Does she dress that way knowingly? And then I wonder, am I the only woman who notices her? I can't imagine that men don't. How does her husband feel that she dresses this way?

There's a Jewish concept of "Kol hakevuda bas melech penima" - "All the beauty of a king's daughter is within." In other words, a woman's beauty should be private, and precious, and shared with the appropriate person at the appropriate time. Yet when I see this woman, I feel like a total idiot.

Does the raging power of feminine beauty trump all?

Getting my Game on:

2007-12-11T20:53:00.000-05:00

I don't like playing games with my kids. I'm not proud of this! If we're all home together, I expect my kids to amuse themselves while I do laundry, wash dishes, read a book, yada yada. I'll set out a game or projects and let them play by themselves. Then I get upset when the game/projects are all over the house, or destroyed. Who's to blame? ME!!!

Shabbos is the worst. I'm the biggest shabbos bum there ever was. Although shabbos is "yom menucha" - a day of rest - I might be taking the concept a little too far. All I want to do is become one with the couch (or my bed). Unfortunately, this is the time when my kids need me the most. They're not in school and not in structure, and they go absolutely crazy. If I could schedule some "game time" with them, it would greatly enhance their shabbos (and possibly mine).

I have a friend who plays games with her kids, and that impresses me. I want to do that, too! I don't want to be a bum anymore. So tonight, when Yaakov took my girls to a Chanuka concert, I played games with Srulik. First, we played dreidel. Then we played a game my mom bought for the kids; "Cootie." Now I must admit that "Cootie" drove me crazy. Yet I soldiered on, even though Zalman was constantly threatning to wreck the game. And when we were done, I found every piece of the game, and neatly put it back in the box.

WOW! I played a game with my kid and cleaned up afterwards, too!

I'm proud of myself.

Attention Space Nerds / Russophiles:

2007-12-07T08:58:00.000-05:00

We were going to drive North yesterday and watch the shuttle launch. We debated back and forth whether or not to go, when Yaakov said, "You know, it's always been a dream of mine to watch a launch." How could I argue with that? So we got all ready to go, and then...the launch was scrubbed. Thank G-d they scrubbed in the morning, before we got on the road. I was nervous we'd get all the way there and they'd scrub closer to launch time - or worse - during the countdown. If it was just Yaakov and I, that would be okay. But to schlep the kids all that way...

We went to a park with the kids instead, and had a great time. There was even a little science museum on site, with a model of the shuttle Endeavor. So we did manage get a little NASA in our day!

And speaking of shuttles, does anybody remember the Russian program? They had a beautiful bird named "Buran." It only went up once, in an un-manned test flight, orbiting the Earth twice. I know you're all dying to know, what happened to the mighty Buran? My internet travels have offered some possibilities. One report is that it's sitting at the Baikonur Cosmodrome, forlorn and alone. Another is that it's in Gorky park, re-modeled as a ride. The third is that it actually got destroyed in a hangar collapse. There were actually two other Russian shuttles in design, so maybe any/all of the aforesaid involves the other vehicles.

Anyway, here's a clip of the Buran Launch. Notice the fuel emissions, how they stream from the orbiter so nicely. The Russians had a different fuel source than the American shuttle, so the there's a noticeable difference at lift-off.

Our house. In the middle of our street.

2007-12-04T11:13:00.000-05:00

We're looking for a house, and I find it very draining. Yaakov and I have different perspectives on the matter, different needs. Yaakov looks at houses dispassionately. I, on the other hand, get emotionally involved. Maybe it's a man-woman thing?

House hunting creates mixed emotions: Hopeful (Could we live here?). Disgusted (How could you show a house with a dead roach on the floor?). Incredulous (you want 300k for this? Are you on crack?). Loathsome (I hate the disgusting house we live in now!!!). Scared (Will we ever find a house?). DRAINED.

The other night, after a day of house-hunting, I called my mom and started to cry. The first thing she said was, "Calm down, Maven." I got pretty indignant, let me tell you. "Mom, it's not like I constantly break down and cry, this is stressful for me!" I felt abandoned. I needed support, and I felt like she was basically telling me to shut up.

The next day, she sent me an email apologizing. She was sorry for not sympathizing with my feelings, she said. She wrote comforting words and signed off with "I LOVE YOU!!!" That was nice. The whole email made me re-evaluate some long-held feelings I've had towards Mom. It helped me look at her in a more positive way, and forced me to acknowledge my own judgmental-ness.

So that's where it's at. Looking at houses, healing the parent-child relationship. Now if Yaakov and I can survive (without killing and/or psychologically maiming the other), everything will be just dandy.

Happy Chanuka!

I don't have a teddy bear named Mohammed...

2007-11-30T09:38:00.000-05:00

I think I understand the anthropological term "Cultural Relativity." We cannot understand different cultures, therefore, we cannot judge them.

Yet I'm very disturbed by the current situation in Sudan. Hello? What is up with this British teacher being imprisoned?

She let her students choose a name for a stuffed bear, as they studied animals and their habitats. The students chose the name "Mohammed." Yet she, the teacher, is condemned for it and rioters are calling for her death.

Um, wait a second here. The students chose the name. Maybe, instead of blaming the teacher, the parents could talk to their kids. Maybe they could tell them they feel it's inappropriate to name a stuffed animal after their prophet.

Or here's another thought: Maybe those kids loved their prophet so much, that they chose this popular Islamic name. I mean, for goodness sake! Why does everything have to be spin-doctored so much? Why does it have to be turned into something anti-Islamic? They chose the name because they liked it!!!

The good news is, many British Muslims are standing up for the teacher. Mohammed Akbar Ali, a community leader from Gillian’s home city of Liverpool, stated: “She is not a person who is radically trying to enforce her views. It is just an innocent mistake from a respectable woman.” Khalid Anis, of the Islamic Society of Britain, said: “This has no basis in religion. It is a political football and enough is enough.” And Muhammed Abdul Bari, Secretary-General of the Muslim Council of Britain, said: “This is a disgraceful decision and defies common sense.”

I agree with those gentlemen. And I'll bet the Prophet Mohammed (peace be upon him) would, too.

Chag HaGeula / Repubs got da Moola.

2007-11-28T11:17:00.000-05:00

Tonight and tomorrow are Yud-Tes Kislev - Rosh Hashana L'Chassidus, Liberation of the Alter Rebbe. I have what to say about it, but I'm too tired.

Tonight there's a Republican debate here in Sunny Florida! My favorite is Dr. Ron Paul, but he won't win the primaries (my money is on Giuliani). More to say on the political front, but again, too tired.

I would like to somehow tune into the Republican debate tonight, but my priority is to attend a Yud-Tes Kislev farbrengen - if I stay awake.

Vindicated:

2007-11-26T01:12:00.000-05:00

Currently, the New York Times is running a feature about people who were wrongfully sent to prison. There were guys who were put away for 20 years, and then exonerated by DNA evidence. One of the men featured was in prison for 16 years, locked up when he was 16 years old.

It creeps me out. It makes me sad. All those years, taken away. I listened to their stories. I read their profiles. Some fared better than others upon their release. Most were psychologically scarred. Some were days away from execution. One man said that he knew G-d didn't give him things he couldn't handle.

I'm sure there's a deeper lesson to all this. We must be thankful for every minute we have. We should make the most of the opportunities G-d gives us, moment by moment. We're all here, and we're free.

I'm not linking to the article, because the New York Times is a little wonky that way. But as of now it's front page news, and well worth reading.

Yud-Daled Kislev

2007-11-24T19:18:00.000-05:00

In honor of the Rebbe and Rebbetzin's wedding anniversary...

EBT = Embarrassed Ba'al Teshuva.

2007-11-20T20:50:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, while on line at the kosher store, I was behind someone with whom I am close.

I don't know her finances, yet suddenly, I had a feeling she would be using an EBT card. I felt terribly awkward. My suspicions were confirmed - and I felt even worse. Why did I have to be behind her? Then the noisy cashier was trying to figure out whether certain items could be charged on the card. I stood there feeling totally mortified. I wished the cashier was quieter. I wished there was more respect for my friend's dignity.

I remember when I was in 8th grade, and my stepfather was on his chemo-death march. As he slowly died of his cancer, my parents' finances unraveled. I became the recipient of a free school lunch ticket, something terribly painful for me. I always stood at the very end of the line - I couldn't bear if people saw my Scarlet Letter. And I'm guessing an EBT card has the same stigma. At least, potentially.

I'm at odds. A part of me wants to write the store an anonymous letter. Is that an appropriate response? I feel like the situation could have been handled more quietly, more gracefully.

Am I just projecting my own feelings onto things?

Busy.

2007-11-19T09:08:00.000-05:00

Life has become very hectic lately. I've been on the Hillary campaign planting questions to audience members.

Okay. That's not true.

I've been busy teaching Hebrew school. I've been busy feeling overwhelmed by my messy house and all my laundry. I've been busy cleaning up Zalman's puke.

Yaakov has been busy working 14 hour days.

I will be busy hustling together a Thanksgiving dinner that I'm not interested in making.

Today I will be busy going to a doctor's appointment for Srulik. Tomorrow I will be busy going to an upsherinish. Oh, I'm reminded! I have to buy a gift for the birthday boy. I'll be busy doing that, too.

I am busy helping with homework and bath time. I am busy trying to figure out what to make for supper every night.

Yaakov is busy mowing the lawn and fixing the cars.

I am busy thinking about what to do for Rivky's birthday in school. I am busy thinking about the family "latke party" we make every year.

I am busy every morning, trying to find clothes for kids to wear to school that are clean and neat.

Yaakov is busy filling in for my lazy ass when all I want to do is lay on the couch and be a vegetable.

Now I will be busy cleaning up Zalman, and the bowl of grits he just knocked on the kitchen floor.

Yaakov and Rochel, sitting in the tree...

2007-11-13T17:30:00.000-05:00

Last night, Yaakov was eating supper and reviewing the parsha. He pointed out the manner in which the biblical Yaakov "met" Rochel. "See, as soon as he pushes the huge rock off the well, he goes and kisses her." We both started debating the finer points of the story. How is it that he kisses her before he's officially married to her? How come the first thing he does to her is kiss her? He doesn't even introduce himself!

Meanwhile, Chaya-super-spy overheard (never mind the fact that she's not even in the same room). "What?! Yaakov kissed Rochel?" Yes, he kissed her. "On the lips?" I don't know. "How come Rabbi T. didn't tell us this in school? I'm going to ask him tomorrow." She chirped on and on about it, until bedtime.

One part of me is a little bothered by all this. How I wish Chaya didn't pick up on every little thing! Yet, another part feels very okay. I think Chaya has some idea about men and women, anyway. She's seen Disney videos in the pediatricians' office. There are some kissing scenes, much to my chagrin. I guess If she's going to learn about it, better from Yaakov and Rochel, right?

As long as she doesn't figure out what the folks in Sodom were doing...

Tagged.

2007-11-11T20:27:00.000-05:00

I got tagged by Wendy to do this "8" thing. Since I did not respond to my last "tag," I figured I'd give this one a go.

8 passions in my life:

Yaakov
All my kids, present & future
Pregnancy & Natural Childbirth
Yiddishkeit
Doing Chessed
Nurturing Friendships
Writing
Informed choices re: vaccination

8 things to do before I die (chas v'shalom):

Travel Europe via Euro-rail
Help Yaakov build a model-train room
Marry off all my children
Enjoy my grandkids
Resolve my anxiety issues
Learn acupuncture
Go on the "From Lubavitch to Lubavitch" trip
Meet Steven

8 things I often say:

Baruch Hashem
Oy, Gotenyu
I love your tushie!
Do your homework!
Zeiskeit
I love you, my son
NO!
Be tznius!

8 books I read recently:

The Heroic Struggle - The Arrest and Liberation of Rabbi Yosef Y. Schneersohn - Rabbi Dr. Alter B. Metzger
Fair Game: My Life as a Spy, My Betrayal by the White House - Valerie Plame Wilson
The Menorah Story - Mark Podwal
Mecca and Main Street, Muslim Life in America after 9/11 - Geneive Abdo
Sefer HaToldos/Admur Maharash - Compilation
Dovid Comes Home - Michoel Muchnik
Once upon a Quinceañera - Julia Alvarez
Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett

8 songs that mean something to me:

All the songs on Morah Music's Chassidisher yomim tovim CD set
The Alter Rebbe's Niggun/Niggun of 4 stanzas
She Moves On - Paul Simon
The Rebbe Maharash's Niggun/L'chatchila Ariber
Eyes of the World - Grateful Dead
Plenty of Room - Uncle Moishy
Only the Good Die Young - Billy Joel
My Sister Rose - 10,000 Maniacs

8 Qualities I look for in a friend:

Intelligence
Emotional Maturity
Trustworthiness
Sense of Humor
Depth
Ability to give loving hashpa'a
Discretion
Nefesh Elokis

8 people I am "tagging":

DinoMama
Aidel Maidel
Eden
Frumhouse
Pearlie
Ayelet
FunkyFrum
Scraps

Sorry gang, I attached your linkies and then lost them. I don't have the energy to cut-and-paste them again! I hope you know who you are!

Hi from the dish rag:

2007-11-08T15:06:00.000-05:00

The New York trip totally sapped me. I've basically been a zombie since I've returned home. As usual, the house has fallen to the wayside. Zalman is sick. And last night I was sick too. I was up literally every 10 minutes with vomiting and diarrhea. It was like labor! Every 10-12 minutes I'd have my "contraction," and then I could lay down and recover. I finally vomited one last time around 6 am. Thank G-d, Yaakov worked from home and took care of all of us. So far, no more vomiting today, but plenty of the other...sigh...

Gam zu l'tova.

Mashala!

2007-11-08T00:36:00.000-05:00

Zalman has Rotavirus. It's not fun. He's pooping a lot - foul, sickly smelling poops. And vomiting. Several times he's made a mess of himself, I've stuck him in the tub, and then he pukes/poops all over himself again. The worst is when he's sleeping, and he wakes up because he's vomited. He looks so disoriented, and I feel so sorry for him. I know he's exhausted from his ordeal. I feel so sad when he's vomiting, gasping and crying. I've done that, too. And on top of all this, he has hives.

Hashem, please just make him well.

Spirit in the Sky:

2007-11-05T19:50:00.000-05:00

We just went to New York overnight for a wedding, and we flew Spirit because it was cheaper. We've never done this before, we've always flown JetBlue. I've come to the conclusion that it's worth spending a few bucks more to fly JetBlue, an airline with obvious class (and leg room).

Here's an example: Spirit has all these ways to get your money. They charge cheap fares, but nickel and dime you for everything else. Snacks, for example - not that we would be eating them. But to charge your passengers for them? No class. Having all these crazy baggage limitations and charging passengers for going over them? No class. Automatically adding in "traveler's insurance" and forcing us to join your $9 fare club? NO CLASS. Besides the fact that they overbooked their 6:40 am flight and bumped us up to a flight 4 hours later. Hello, we woke up at 4:15 in the morning to make that flight.

There's more to say about the amazing wedding and whirlwind trip, but I'm too tired and frustrated right now. I just had to rant about the airline I never want to fly ever again.

Say it with me: Four hours. La Guardia.

Trick-or-treat...

2007-10-31T20:05:00.001-05:00

Yaakov: (grinning) Hey, happy halloween!
Me: Yeah! You could go as a harried husband, and I could go as a hormonal wife. And hey - we don't even have to put on costumes!

Love, Mother.

2007-10-31T11:41:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I went to the bank, to be added to my mother's safety deposit box list. She took me into the vault, and showed me the box. Then she took me into a little room, and showed me its contents.

Her kesuba, birth certificates, her life insurance policy, other legalities. Jewelery that will someday be mine. Attached to her birth certificate was a note, explaining how it was an original and that a second one was issued after she was named. It was signed simply, "Love, Mother."

My precious grandmother, who passed away when I was 7. Those were her words, her handwriting, her love. I ran my hands across the words in reverence, and my eyes filled with tears.

Fancy Schmancy Complaining Maven:

2007-10-29T06:59:00.000-05:00

I haven't been writing so much because I'm so overwhelmed with my life. Sometimes, I feel like a hamster on a wheel. I'm running and running, yet not accomplishing anything.

Mornings are insane. Everybody needs everything all at the same time. Yaakov is daavening, so it's my show. Mommy, I want a vitamin. Mommy, help me get dressed. Mommy, help me make my hair. Mommy, put my tzitsis on for me. Mommy, breakfast! When Yaakov takes them to school, it's like this huge burden is lifted. The house becomes quiet.

And the house - gevalt! It's basically wrecked. It's a mess. It's dirty. And I have no cleaning help. And I try and try every day, but I can't seem to get it all together. It's like that old joke: Cleaning the house while the children are young is like shoveling the walkway while it's still snowing. And by me, it's hailing.

And then the afternoons - homework and dinner and bath time. Yaakov isn't home and I'm all by myself again. It's like the mornings. Everybody needing everything all at the same time, and everybody's needs are different. Srulik is tired so he's bouncing off the walls and going crazy, which just makes it all the harder. Zalman starts freaking out - how come I've had mommy to myself all day and now I have to share her? He cries. He gets clingy and hangs on to my skirts. I've tripped over him many times.

Nighttime comes, and I feel like I've been steamrolled. I'm so tired all I want to do is collapse.

And then there's hebrew school, which is just the pits. It drains me terribly. Yesterday morning Rivky had diarrhea and she was puking, and I had to leave Yaakov with all the insanity. And there's a part of me that's glad! And another part that's so sad, that feels so guilty. And teaching just takes my kishkes out. The kids are so loud and wild, and I feel like I'm not really teaching them anything sometimes. And that makes me feel guilty, too. Their parents are sending their kids to me, and I'm just not good enough.

And when I come home Sunday afternoons I feel drained. I feel like I can't deal with hebrew school for another whole week. I can't even think about it! Which of course I cannot do, because I have to lesson-plan, etc.

So that's it. I'm trying to be grateful. I'm trying to change my attitude. But the bottom line is, I'm totally overwhelmed. I don't know how to change it.

Where is the joy in this life?

My lovely evening:

2007-10-22T19:37:00.001-05:00

It started when we were on the way home from school. I told Chaya that I had set up private space for her to do her homework. "So, what do you have for homework tonight?" "I have to copy my spelling words 3 times each but I left the list in my cubby..."

It's always something with the homework. So I started telling her (none too nicely) how it's her responsibility. "But it's not my problem," she retorts. "Okay, well whose problem is it? Mine? Tatty's? Your teacher's?"

So we get home and I said, "Well, start your hebrew homework." Five minutes later, she's done. "No way," I insisted. "There's no way all your hebrew homework is finished." I looked at the assignment note sent home by the teacher. "What about these review sheets?" "What review sheets?" "I don't know, you tell me." She searched through her backpack. I searched through her backpack. "I don't have any review sheets." Meanwhile, I get on the phone with another mother, who patiently spelled out (in hebrew) every chumash word. There were like, 30 of them. I had to lock myself in a room and take down all these words, while my kids were basically killing each other outside the door.

Dinner time came, and it was a meltdown of nuclear proportions. Corn salad. You would think I offered them a plate of sulfuric acid. Rivky and Chaya both started screaming and carrying on. "I hate this! I'm starving!" "If you eat the vegetables, you get the hot dogs and mashed potatoes." Oh man. they went on and on and on. Fifteen minutes of wailing and dying. A couple of times I lost my temper. "You know, there are children who are really starving in the world! And here I am, making you beautiful food, and you ungrateful children won't even eat it!" And then, this beauty: "Some kids don't even have mothers to make them supper!"

After supper Chaya went back to hebrew homework and I put my boys in the tub. Meanwhile, I got on the phone with another mother for Chaya's spelling words. Srulik was playing loudly and I had to ask her to repeat words over and over again.

We started with the homework again this morning. She didn't finish last night - too hard. I was rummaging through her backpack, thinking, "Gee, Chaya needs some help with organizing." Guess what I found in an outer pocket? The chumash review sheets!

After all that!

Hi, from the girl on the playground.

2007-10-19T14:29:00.000-05:00

First through third grade were the most terrible years of my life. I had poor social skills and a bad haircut. I had no friends. NO FRIENDS. I was teased mercilessly. Every day, when we were on the playground, I would cry. I'm crying now, writing about the lonely little girl I was.

I outgrew that phase, though I feel it has affected every part of my life. I believe my anxiety issues are rooted in this terrible time. On a deep level, I don't feel that I ever fit in - even now. Yaakov loves me unconditionally, and I know his love has fostered much healing. Nonetheless, the scars are deep. They fester from time to time.

In the past few months, I have offended three of my closest friends. Each time, I said something inadvertently. In two situations, I mentioned something "safe" that apparently wasn't. My delivery was poor. Or the timing was bad. All my friends took me to task. Two in loving ways, one not.

Today, a friend told me I had offended her. My best friend, my sister friend, who is always on the same wavelength as me. In nine years, we've never had a disagreement. She forgave me whole-heartedly. She knows I love her, and would never consciously hurt her. But it still hurt me, and made me feel so sad. Sad for both of us. There's a fear that the friendship won't recover. It's happened to me before.

In this moment, as I live with uncertainty, I have become Playground-Girl again. Terribly lonely, and unworthy of love.

And I still have a bad haircut.

I am mad...

2007-10-18T20:22:00.000-05:00

...at Rivky's teachers, who just sent a note home this afternoon that she's the "shabbos mommy" tomorrow (we need to provide snack for 30 kids).

...at my oven, for ruining dinner last night. We didn't have more food in the house and I was too tired to be creative. Sixty bucks for Chinese.

...at this stupid rental house. I'm trying to be grateful. I'm trying to count my blessings. But it's so. damn. ugly. There's termites. And baby lizards. And it's all carpeted (even underneath the dining room table, need I say more).

...at the fact that I had to pay $3.39 for a 17oz box of heimishe bran flakes because my Zalman is constipated and needs fiber.

...at the jerks who broke into my brother's car and stole his clothes forcryingoutloud!

...at the lady who called before and put me in an awkward position.

The good news is, Chinese fortunes are getting better:

"Sift through your past to get a better idea of the present."

"The only thing worse than being talked about is not getting talked about." (I disagree)

"Every day in your life is a special occasion."

And, my favorite;

"Today is an ideal time to water your personal garden."

Are YOU a frum woman with a blog?

2007-10-17T09:30:00.000-05:00

I got an interesting email the other day:

"I'm a Jewish college professor living in PA (I teach comparative religion and Jewish studies), and I'm presently writing an article about Orthodox women who blog. I'm especially interested in the way blogging complicates the notion of a division between public/private spheres, and the way these are "gendered" in traditional Jewish thought. This is not a popular, journalistic article, but a scholarly piece for a book."

That's interesting, right? She sent me some questions, which I am including here along with my answers:

Who is your audience? Men, women?

I have a mixed readership, but I think the majority are women.

Have you met a lot of "friends" through your blog? Men? Women?

I have a few online "acquaintances." They are women. We email each other. As for men, I don't cultivate friendships with men in "real life" and I stick to that rule online as well.

How important to you is your blogging community? Does it enhance your "real life"?

I don't think I have a "blogging community," per se. I do have my coterie of readers, and they are important to me. As for enhancing my "real life," I get little thrills here and there when people leave comments or email me.

Why have you chosen blogging over a traditional journal or diary?

I blog because I enjoy writing, and I like having an audience for it. Totally ego-driven.

Do you think of your entries as "public" or "private"?

Interesting question. On the one hand, they are obviously very public. On the other hand, they are private, because my blog is basically anonymous. The things I write on my blog are not necessarily things I would share in "real life."

Is anonymity important to you in your blogging? Why or why not?

Very much so. The main reason is because I feel my anonymity allows me to write freely. I do have a few (carefully chosen) friends whom I've told about the blog.

Kressel Housman refers to her blogging community as a "virtual veiber shul"--what do you think of this concept?

I think the concept can be very real. I know of a
bulletin-board-styled website for frum women that I think falls into that genre.

She goes on to say;

"Right now, I'm really most interested in the public/private question. A lot of the journalistic treatments of orthodox women's blogs in the media have focused on the way blogs give orthodox women a type of public voice that they don't have within the traditional community. After reading lots of blogs, I really disagree with this reading, and think that blogs actually seem to serve as a way of expanding the private sphere through a virtual network that serves as a forum for talking about the things all women talk about with other women...

...FYI, the article (G-d willing!) will be part of an anthology of essays to be published in 2008 by the Littman Library of Jewish Civilization and is titled, Jews at Home: The Domestication of Identity, Jewish Cultural Studies, Volume 2, edited by Simon J. Bronner."

Andrea Lieber, PhD.
Sophia Ava Asbell Chair of Judaic studies
Associate Professor of Relgion
Dickinson College
Carlisle, PA 17013

I think this is fascinating, and I'm pleased to be a part of it. She would like it if other frum female bloggers contacted her. If you fall into this category, feel free to email her: lieber@dickenson.edu

Hebrew School Review:

2007-10-14T19:56:00.000-05:00

At the end of our morning prayers, the children say, "We want Moshiach now!" Each week I remind them who Moshiach is - the redeemer of the Jewish people. Today I explained that when Moshiach comes, G-dliness will be revealed. We will be able to see it clearly, as clear as this one's sparkle shoes or that one's curly hair. One girl said she sees G-dliness like that already. I believed her, and wished her mazal tov.

We are learning about Bereishis. I explained to them what Hashem created on each day of the world. On the third day, G-d separated the waters and the dry land. I showed them a globe, and all the water and land. I showed them Eretz Yisroel, and explained that this is a place G-d created for the Jewish people. They were amazed at how small it was. I told them that when Moshiach comes, all the Jews will go there and the land will be bigger. One girl piped up that her father wouldn't be going, "Because he's Christmas." I was startled, and had no idea what to say. She didn't seem fazed at all, so I decided to just let it be.

We sing and learn and are constantly talking about G-d. I love reading their mitzvah notes and high-fiving them. I work hard to create projects for them that are fun and meaningful. I want to create memories: warm feelings about Hashem, Yiddishkeit, and me.

At the end of class, my lovely Latina student wrapped her brown arms around my waist. I reached down and stroked her head. She hugged me again. For all the work that Hebrew school entails, moments like that make it totally worth it.

Hebrew School Blues.

2007-10-13T18:41:00.000-05:00

I wish I could quit teaching Sunday school. It's too much. It's not just the 4 1/2 hour block on Sunday mornings (a definite strain on The Maven Family). There's all the prep time during the week! I have to get materials, and every Saturday night I'm preparing for Sunday. So instead of cleaning my messy-motsei-shabbos house, I'm busy doing Hebrew school stuff.

I'm not quitting, though. When I start something, I see it through. Plus, my students are not religious. Their parents could send them to any Sunday school they wanted. For many of them, it's their first experience with Chabad. How would it look to the parents if their kids' Hebrew school teacher just quit on them? It would not leave a favorable impression. So I feel like I need to stay with it, for Chabad. I want the parents to associate Chabad with good things, not flakey teachers. This isn't about me anymore: I'm not gonna let my Rebbe down.

Besides, the parents like me. The children like me. The Hebrew school director likes me. I'm doing a good job! And I like my kids and their parents, too. It's not the teaching that I dislike, it's all the extra work. This is really a job for a single girl, who doesn't have a family to take care of. Honestly, I don't know how Chabad shluchim do it. Their outreach jobs become their lives, and they're raising large families on top of that. I see how hard the shlucha works in MY Hebrew school. So there's a small part of me that wonders, what am I complaining about? Besides, I really feel this job is bringing blessings into my life.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to start getting ready for tomorrow. (Sigh.)

Mother.

2007-10-08T17:58:00.000-05:00

I had a beautiful moment on shabbos. I looked across my table and saw it filled with children. My children. Those I currently have, and the children G-d might bless me with in the future. I saw them, briefly, before I realized who I was looking at. And then just like that, they were gone.

What Happens on Simchas Torah STAYS in Simchas Torah!

2007-10-06T22:11:00.000-05:00

(Unless, of course, you blog about it.)

Each year, the Torah is completed and started anew - Simchas Torah celebrates that. The festival includes dancing, flag-waving, and copious drinking by the menfolk. In Chabad circles, there's a Simchas Torah tradition to "mach a kula." You haven't seen anything in life until you see a drunk chossid do a somersault. On second thought...

This year, my husband had the dubious honor of being in charge of the liquor distribution. On Thursday night and Friday afternoon, Yaakov "tended bar" for stretches of time. His rules were simple: If you looked too drunk, no more mashke for you. If you already made 4 l'chaims, no more mashke for you. If you looked too young, no mashke - period.

Some youngsters raided their parents' liquor cabinets, anyway. One 17 year old was laying on a table in the shul's sukkah, puking over the side. Another drunk reveler, turned away by Yaakov, convinced the shul's goy to get more mashke for him. When he reappeared with some Johnnie Walker, he told Yaakov, "See! I don't need you!" Rav Plony told him not to come back the next day.

Some chassidim got into shoving matches, which startled me when I heard. "The whole point of drinking on Simchas Torah is to loosen up and have a good time," I insisted. "Do you think the Rebbe would be proud of that?" Yaakov was unfazed. "You don't understand men," he said. "Sure, they were going at it a little, but 10 minutes later they were dancing together..."

Me, I stayed home. The women's section is too small, and I can't keep up with my brood in shul, anyway. Besides, Simchas Torah isn't always a great environment for kids. On Friday afternoon, a friend and her kids came for a late yom tov meal. Both our husbands were still in shul, and we didn't miss them.

Thus, another three-day shabbos/yom tov has officially ended (I hope the hangovers have, too).

Lo Leiv.

2007-10-01T17:26:00.000-05:00

Sukkos has been lovely, despite the rain. I've enjoyed being in our sukkah immensely. It seems the mitzvah of sukkah has meant more to me this year than in years past.

When I first shook lulav and esrog, tears came to my eyes. I startled myself. "A whole year since I've done this mitzvah?" I whispered. Today, I held the esrog close to my heart. The esrog is symbolic of the Jewish heart, fragrant and sweet with mitzvos. I felt the esrog next to my own sullied heart, and asked G-d to cleanse it.

Halevai, to achieve the simple purity of an esrog.

Ushpizin

2007-09-26T07:07:00.000-05:00

Since it's sukkos time again, I couldn't resist posting the trailer for this special, funny movie.

Enjoy!

Chag sukkos sameach!

Trying not to cry...

2007-09-25T11:38:00.001-05:00

I've been cooking and baking non-stop for the past 2 days. I'm becoming a zombie. I was just making challah, which required 18 cups of flour (lovingly and laboriously kneaded). I set the beautiful challah dough out to rise, and I went to wash the utensils I used. As I was washing them, I looked onto my kitchen window.

Uh-oh.

My yeast. My yeast that was still on my windowsill. My yeast that was not in my challah dough. My yeast that had risen like a defiant Chinese laborer, after sitting for half an hour.

Now I have to start all over again. At least the challah bowl is clean...

HRH Maven

2007-09-24T14:45:00.000-05:00

Yaakov: Are you looking at the Danish goyim again?
Me: Well I am looking at Mary. She's beautiful.
Yaakov: (squinting at screen) You think she's beautiful? I don't find her attractive at all.
Me: Are you on drugs? She's the most beautiful woman in the world.
Yaakov: (shrugging) I don't think she's that attractive. You're better looking than that.
Me: Yaakov, She's married to the prince of Denmark. He could marry anybody. There's a reason why she's the princess.
Yaakov: Well you're my princess.

I give you all a brocha that your husbands are as blind as mine.

Ego.

2007-09-23T13:53:00.001-05:00

After teaching today, I tripped and fell. Right in front of three guys who were building the hebrew school's sukkah. I was in terrible pain. I wanted to stay on the ground and cry, but I couldn't - too embarrassed. I couldn't let them see my pain and suffering. I got up right away. "I'm okay," I laughed nervously, feeling like a total moron. Meanwhile, I scraped up my left knee, my right elbow, and both hands.

Would it have been so bad to just lay there and cry?

Boundaries, Round 2:

2007-09-20T19:29:00.000-05:00

Let me clarify some things:

There's a pervasive idea in our society that everything is okay. You like it? Do it! It feels good? Do it! Not hurting anybody? Do it!

I vehemently disagree.

I think we're experiencing moral decay in modern times, and a majority of it stems from this laissez-faire attitude. There's also a blurring of what's right and wrong. Intermarriage is a product of all this.

There's an idea in yiddishkeit that if you keep commiting a sin, there's a point where you start rationalizing it as a mitzvah. That's my view on what intermarriage has become. There are books about it, websites about it, support groups for it. I think the current intermarriage figure in the U.S. is around 50% (correct me if I'm wrong here). Intermarriage has become a mitzvah!

I'm not thinking of the holocaust, as one anonymous commenter mentioned. That never entered my mind. What I am thinking of is what it means to have a soulmate. I'm thinking about Jewish children. I'm thinking about doing the right thing. I don't think intermarriage truly benefits anybody.

I have so many ideas about this, so many feelings. I don't even think I can clarify them all. A blog is a monologue - it takes dialogue to work out the heavy stuff.

Boundaries:

2007-09-19T11:16:00.000-05:00

I was on the phone with my father yesterday. Apparently, there was a time when my cousin was briefly courted by a non-Jewish man. This was like, 30 years ago. Anyway, my uncle (her father) told her, "It's him or me." She chose her father.

He told me another story about a Jewish guy he knows, in his 80's. This guy married an Irish Catholic girl, and his entire family cut him off. He was married to her for many years, and raised a family with her. Yet he never got over losing his parents and siblings.

I asked my father, "Why did he take up with this girl in the first place?" "Well, he loved her," - as if that solved everything.

I don't buy that crap. You don't just love somebody. You don't get involved with whomever you please, no matter how attracted to them you are. She should have been an automatic NO.

You know, Yaakov and I are ba'alei teshuva. We remember (fondly!) what a bacon double cheeseburger tastes like. Are we going to Burger King? No.

Very nice, you say. But a comparing love to a burger?

The bottom line is the same: Some things you just can't have.

Morning Chatter:

2007-09-18T07:12:00.001-05:00

Me: Chaya, how are your new shoes working out?
Chaya: They feel good.
Me: We can thank G-d for providing us with the shoes.
Yaakov: I didn't know G-d worked at Wal-Mart.
(pauses reflectively...)
Yaakov: He works in a factory in China, too?

My life, in descending order:

2007-09-16T15:40:00.001-05:00

Hebrew school was great. I gave it my all, and the kids had a blast. I planned a lot beforehand, so we had lots of projects to do. Thank you, Mrs. Stein, for providing art supplies! I taught the children the story of Yonah, and about Yom Kippur in general. Each child had a chance to say something s/he was sorry about. One boy said, "I'm sorry I threw that book and hit mommy in the eye." (!!!) I was very proud of the letter I sent home to the parents. We really covered a lot of ground!

Rosh Hashana was amazing, I feel I accomplished a lot on a spiritual level. I daavened a lot and praised G-d at every available opportunity. The first day I daavened with a friend at her house, and the second day Mrs. Stein opened her home to mommies and kids. We all helped each other out, and we all got a chance to daaven. (I'm hoping Mrs. Stein will do it again for Yom Kippur!) AND...Not only did the honey cake not flop, but it came out AWESOME. I got so many compliments on it! I baked one for the family we ate with on Friday, and they went nuts over it. I say this with humility, because I truly feel it was the recipe. Every time I got a compliment, I gave mad props to the recipe. And the best part? I found it online!

To sum up New York: busy and exhausting. Dad was totally nutty, but loving and generous as well. For awhile, I felt guilty feeling uncomfortable around him when he was so very giving. But then I decided it was okay: I can celebrate my Dad and his largesse, and I can feel awkward when he's acting foolish. That's life. The crowning moment was in Penn Station: Dad was instructing the bucket drummer how he could be doing his gig better. When our train arrived, he jumped up and down and yelled; "Baruch Hashem! Hallelujah!" over and over again. This wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't in front of a crowd of Israeli bochurim. What can I say? I love my father.

Bad news for the Jews:

2007-09-16T03:51:00.001-05:00

Yaakov just walked into the computer room. "What are you doing?" he asked quizzically. "I can't sleep." "Too bad," he said. "Try." (I did try. I took valerian. And scullcap. Nothing doing.)

It's 5 a.m. - I start a job teaching Sunday school in 4 hours. I have to be perky for 6 year olds, and I haven't slept at all.

This isn't looking too good.

menu menu menu

2007-09-12T12:23:00.000-05:00

challah
apples and honey
pomegranates
rambutans and another weird "new fruit"
green salad
baked fish
fish head (ewww)
chicken with honey bbq sauce
roast
candied carrots
kasha varnishkes
potato kugel
apple lukshen kugel
ice cream
and...

HONEY CAKE!!! I MADE A HONEY CAKE THAT DIDN'T FLOP! (Insert touchdown dance here.)

Wishing everyone a good and sweet new year!

My 9/11.

2007-09-11T22:49:00.000-05:00

September 11th, 2001 found me barefoot and pregnant with Rivky. I was in the kitchen, washing dishes (because when you're barefoot and pregnant, you have to be in the kitchen).

My friend called me up, sobbing about a bomb. She was walking across the bridge, leaving Manhattan. The cell service was lousy, and I wasn't understanding her well. I thought she said her husband got caught in a bomb scene. "Are you saying Shalom's work was bombed?" "No No, the World Trade Center was bombed." At that point she didn't know the story, and I didn't either.

Yaakov came into the kitchen, and we turned on the radio. We listened incredulously as the story unfolded, as the towers collapsed. I look back and I marvel how I experienced that event without television.

I remember sitting on my rooftop, watching the smoke rise from Manhattan. I remember looking at the sky, a sky without planes. I remember walking out of my apartment and seeing police cars. I remember walking to my friend's house, when she finally made it back to Crown Heights.

It seems like each year I've seen or learned a little more about that terrible day. What really gets me is the rawness of it all. Seeing video footage and hearing people freaking out. Women screaming and crying. Men yelling and cursing. Normal people reacting to a most abnormal situation. It is their voices that make September 11th real to me.

K'siva v'chasima tova...

2007-09-10T19:42:00.000-05:00

Crown Heights was a total whirlwind, my dad was off his rocker, I just got home today, and I'm exhausted. When I'm less tired, I'll tell you about the freakazoid who sat next to me on the plane.

Now I have to plan for Rosh Hashana. I must be on crack - I'm making honey cake again.

Being Grateful.

2007-09-06T19:51:00.000-05:00

The whole situation with Ruchama Aliza Sara Chana really takes me places. She's still on life support, brain dead. A couple of weeks ago, she was a happy, healthy, little girl. Now, the hospital wants to disconnect her.

Srulik is another example. His prognosis is good, but we don't know what the future holds. Is it possible he could have another seizure? Chas v'shalom! But I have to make room in my heart to acknowledge the possibility. And I have to appreciate the health he has right now.

I am learning to be grateful for the simple things. The rocking chair I love so much, The supper I put on the table tonight. Baruch Hashem! I have so much. I have 4 beautiful children, a nice husband, we're all relatively healthy. I'm blessed to be a stay-at-home mom.

The other day we went to give our stale challah to the duckies. I had such delight watching my kids and those ducks. I stood there and experienced the moment. This is it, I realized. Here and now. Kids. Ducks. Laughter. And that's really how it all is. Each moment is all we've got. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? So for today, I'm trying to love with all my heart. I'm trying to be grateful for it all.

Thank you, G-d.

When life gives you lemons...

2007-09-05T22:33:00.000-05:00

My dad is still gripped by mania. He called and left a message on my voicemail, yelling "Hallelujah! Can't wait to see my dear daughter!" He said "Hallelujah" like, 4 times. He also turned up his oldies music for me. Again.

I made arrangements with a close friend to eat with her on shabbos. She knows my father, so I won't feel embarrassed if he pulls any schtick. I have also decided to curtail my shabbos visiting time with him. After lunch I'll just tell him I'm tired. I know this is deceptive, but I can't say, "Dad, I don't want to be with you now." (Besides, he'll have me all day Sunday, in Jersey.)

What's the moral of this story? An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. If I had only been assertive in the first place, and told him it wasn't a good idea to come, I could've saved myself all this nonsense.

In the meantime, I'll enjoy the lemonade.

p.s. Today is my "english" birthday. I'm 32. Yay, me.

Kiss us, we're Jewish.

2007-09-04T17:32:00.001-05:00

We went to Dr. F today.

This was my first time meeting him. He has a Spanish name but he looks Asian, which was interesting.

Dr. F asked Srulik to open his mouth, and Srulik unleashed his tongue like a liberated gargoyle. "Did you know Gene Simmons was your patient?" I joked. "Yeah, I heard a few of the guys in KISS were Jewish," Yaakov rejoined. "I didn't know you guys were KISS fans," he said. "Why do you think my husband always wears black and white? It's in perpetual homage to them." "Are you guys orthodox?" (gee, how could you tell?) "Yes." "Well, I sorta have a Jewish home." he said. We didn't follow up on that one, but we were curious.

He basically said that the prognosis seemed good. Srulik hasn't regressed, and he hasn't had another seizure. So that's good. Of course, the EEG still shows occipital abnormality, so we can't be sure what the future holds. We just have to keep an eye on him. If he has another seizure, he wants him on medication.

We told him we were disappointed that it took so long to return our calls. He blamed his faulty secretary, whom he has since let go of. I don't think that's true, but whatever. Things are stable, so I'm not overly concerned. We may get a second opinion in the future, but it doesn't seem necessary right now.

p.s. We're not really KISS fans. No, really.

Nisht vat fun der boim haut gefalen dos appela.

2007-09-02T09:20:00.000-05:00

(The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.)

So my dad is bi-polar, right? Well he's been crazy manic lately.

This morning, for example: he called at 8:30am (5:30am his time). It was a non-stop stream-of-consciousness monologue. He went on and on over the practical joke he played on his buddy yesterday (he called him up posing as a Citibank employee, giving him a trumped up story about his credit card). Yep, that's funny, Dad. Then he decides he's going to play his oldies rock-n-roll CD for me realllllly loud. "DAD, isn't it 5:30am by you?" "Oh yeah. My wife's gonna kill me. She's sleeping in the other room. Hey, you know your father's a meshuggener. We're cut from the same cloth! You've got a crazy streak in you, too."

That's technically correct: He's bi-polar and I have an anxiety disorder. But only one of us is crazy, and it's NOT ME.

I'm going to New York next weekend. I usually go erev rosh hashana - to celebrate my birthday, see friends, visit my Rebbe's kever. I decided I was going to visit my aunt and uncle in Jersey on Sunday. That's my dad's sister and brother-in-law. I made arrangements with my aunt about a month ago. Well, when my father found out, he decided he's going to meet me in New York.

Uh oh.

I've been having mixed feelings about this since he informed me. My dad is hard to manage even when he's on an even keel. He's like an 11 year old in a 64 year old body. I can just imagine meeting him at JFK.

Then there's the fact that this is MY vacation! When I go to Crown Heights, I like to run around, visit my friends, etc. I don't like having to be responsible for another person. So there's mild frustration over that. But then I thought, I can't afford this trip anyway. Maybe he'll pay for cabs and train fare. That makes me feel guilty.

Another aspect is the fact that he's manic right now. Will he be like this in Crown Heights? Will I have to introduce my crazy father to all of Kingston Avenue? Will he regale our shabbos hosts with his practical joke stories?

And there's more - sometimes after a manic swing he'll get very depressed. What if he bails out on the trip? He's done that before.

After we got off the phone today I thought, "Maybe I should tell him he needs to see his psychiatrist." I don't know if that's an appropriate thing to say. I also don't think my intentions are pure. Is it fair to tell him to see his doctor just so I can feel comfortable around him?

I just want him to be normal when I meet up with him in New York. I feel like I can't deal with him otherwise. I'm selfish. I admit it.

The Scoop on Poop, Part II

2007-08-30T09:36:00.000-05:00

You know, it never ceases to amaze me what gets you guys chattering. I've written some intense things, and nary a peep. But when I write about poop...

Firstly, the good news: Srulik went to school and stayed dry all day yesterday. Hooray! Baruch Hashem.

The bad news is, Dr. F told Yaakov that his office would call yesterday to schedule next week's appointment. Well, you know that didn't happen.

And now, the rest of the story.

Your comments were thoughtful. Regarding Dr. F, We are planning on taking action - we're just not sure what. I'll keep you posted as the saga unfolds.

Regarding my kids...a couple of nights ago, a friend gave me a reality check: I was busy wringing my hands over how insane they make me, and she said she only wished she could have more (she's unable to right now). She reminded me that Yaakov adores me, and how lucky I am. It's really true. I have a beautiful family, and a wonderful husband. Despite my blessings, I still like to complain.

You're right, poop is no fun (especially in Wal-Mart). My kids are very challenging at times. But in the grand scheme of things, it's nothing. I love them. And with G-d's help, at the right time, I'll have more to love. I think that's what my friend and "Anonymous" was trying to tell me - to count my blessings.

And speaking of blessings - Please keep praying for Ruchama Aliza Sara Chana bas Esther Liba. That's her picture. It's a sad reminder that I really have nothing to complain about.

The terrible day.

2007-08-28T16:23:00.000-05:00

We decided to put Srulik (4) in pre-school this year. It was a big decision for us, but I think it was the right one. Srulik has a lot of "boy" energy. When he's home, he's constantly harrassing the baby, growling, shouting, jumping off the walls, etc. We felt it was best for all of us if he was in a full-day structured program.

Yesterday was orientation. I met his wonderful teachers, and gave them a heads up that he had a seizure. I told them it was nothing to be afraid of, we didn't anticipate another. It happened almost 5 months ago already. The head teacher seemed particularly nervous, but I assured her it was fine. I told her what to look for, what to do, etc.

Today, when I dropped him off, I hovered around. I even peeked in the classroom window before I left, standing outside on my tip-toes. Satisfied that all was well, I left. But then I got a call about 3 hours later: poop. The teacher was already nervous about the seizure thing, and then he goes and poops on her. She didn't sound thrilled. I told her I would come in and take care of it.

I came in, cleaned him up, and did Love and Logic with him. "I'm really sorry buddy, this is a bummer. I need to take you home now." The whole time I was driving I kept coaching myself. Don't make predictions. It's not going to be like this all year. Don't freak out. Just stay in the moment.

I had to go to Wal-Mart for some things for dinner. We're in the parking lot, and he says, "Mommy, I need to make." Too late - another poop. I sighed. We went into the store and I got him into the potty. While he was inside, I called Yaakov and started to cry. I can't handle him home another year. What are we going to do? I saw he was a mess of bathtub proportions. I had him pull up his pants and wash his hands like an OCD champ. And I still had to get dinner stuff!

I was feeling angry and resentful. I wasn't supposed to be doing this, he was supposed to be in school. Meanwhile he was bouncing off the walls, running around, jumping on the shopping cart (doing all the things I put him in school for).

I finally got him home and in the tub. Then I had to start making dinner. And then I had to pick up my other kids. Rivky and Chaya started interrogating. "How come Srulik went home?" "He had an accident." "A big one? A number one or a number two? Did you have to change his pants?" I sighed for the millionth time. "Ask your brother," I said. "He'll tell you if he wants."

Oh, and here's the icing on this crappy cake. When I got home, Dr. F finally called. Srulik's neurologist. He did a follow-up EEG 3 months ago. THREE MONTHS AGO. He finally responded to our persistent phone calls. He's seeing an abnormality. He wants to see Srulik next week.

Wait...what?

For 3 months you don't have the decency to return our calls, and suddenly you need to see him next week? I'm sorry, but that takes some kind of chutzpah.

The only bright spot of my day was the tzedoka collector that came to my door.

The truth hurts:

2007-08-26T19:56:00.000-05:00

Every couple of months we have a family get-together - a birthday, yom tov, thanksgiving, whatever. Today's gathering was for Srulik's birthday. My brother's girlfriend came. She moved to Florida to be with him before their November Israel trip.

I like her a lot, yet I feel threatened by her. Her youth, her beauty, the enchanting spell she casts on my children. She dresses like a twenty-something hottie, fascinating to Chaya and bothersome to me.

Today, Yaakov and my brother were talking about building our sukkah together. She piped in that she wanted to join. I felt indignant. You think you're going to come half-dressed to my house and build a sukkah with my husband? You got another thing coming, missy!

I used to go into frum homes dressed like that, and, like her, I had no clue. A little empathy would be in order, right? Right? But no - I just feel jealous.

She's awesome - I hate feeling this way.

Please da'aven for:

2007-08-24T09:47:00.000-05:00

Ruchama Aliza Sara Chana bas Esther Liba.

This 4 year old in our neighborhood was found at the bottom of a pool. She has a pulse, but she's been breathing with a respirator since last night. The situation is very dire.

Please dedicate every good deed you do to this little girl's recovery.

Thank you.

Ridin' that Train...

2007-08-23T16:52:00.000-05:00

Today I took my kids on Tri-Rail. That was a crazy adventure - I might write more about it later. But what really got me was talking to my mom on the phone afterwards. She told me my stepfather, whom I've long disliked, took my brother on Tri-Rail when he was 5.

What made that trip meaningful was that my stepfather was dying of cancer. He took my brother in between rounds of chemo. Hearing this story made me think of him as a vulnerable person, not the monster I've made him out to be in my head.

Elul is the right time to learn these things.

Here ya go:

2007-08-21T20:04:00.000-05:00

Three of you wanted to know how Yaakov and I met. Believe it or not, it was a shidduch! When we were first exploring frumkeit, someone who knew us thought we would make a good match. Strangely enough, it worked!

This would be a good time to mention the mekubal Yaakov met, Rabbi Chaibi. Yaakov asked him for a brocha to meet his soulmate. Rabbi Chaibi told him to go to the mikveh a certain number of times, and to take a certain amount of showers, and then to say certain chapters of tehillim in front of an open window. Two weeks later, Yaakov met me. Weird but true.

Yaakov was 26 and I was 19. We met in '95. Interestingly enough, one of our early questions was, "What will we do about Friday night shows?" A few weeks later, Jerry died.

It was a long and winding courtship, off and on at times. I had to do some growing up. I was majorly into partying, while Yaakov was very stable. He owned a home and had a good job. We both knew that we wanted to be religious some day, and raise children within this framework.

A year or so after we met, I went to yeshiva in Crown Heights. He stayed in Florida, intensively learning here. He finally came to Brooklyn to start yeshiva himself, and we got engaged the day he arrived. Just today he joked, "You got lucky - you caught me after a long day of driving. My brain wasn't working."

Truthfully, I was very lucky that Yaakov was willing to wait for me. He waited for years. Yaakov likes to joke when I'm running late; "I waited long enough for you, what's a few more minutes?"

Heather K, the Irish Catholic, asked how I became frum: I was a big spiritual seeker for many years. The first frum people I met used to be disciples of Yogi Bhajan (transcendental meditation). I was a vegetarian into Buddhism at the time, so it was a good match. They lovingly allowed me into their home to experience the beauty of shabbos and yom tov. It was very real to me, it touched my soul. After that, I knew I could never turn back. It took me several years, but I got here. You know, I once read another frum Jew's blog and he described himself religiously as: "Underconstructionist." I think that sums it up for me, too! Heather, I'm sorry you constantly have to google what I'm saying. I've tried in the past to explain the words/concepts I'm talking about, but I find it interrupts the flow of my writing. Here's a link that might help. Thanks for reading! (Hey, you're interested in orthodox Judaism, and I've always had a thing for Ireland. This could be a win-win!)

Eden wants to know how we came to sunny Florida. Basically, we decided there wasn't enough crime in Crown Heights. Seriously though, Yaakov received a job offer and we got a brocha to move. Though I miss Crown Heights, we're very happy in our community here.

Just to address the Hillary issue: I'm not pro- or anti-Hillary, I just think she'll be the next president. I'm actually a John Edwards gal. Oddly enough, neither of us vote. We should, as it's an American privilege. Besides, the Rebbe encouraged his chassidim to vote. Though we like to follow politics, I think it's fair to say we're apathetic. (Yaakov is a huge fan of this site, however.)

Happy Second Blogiversary!

2007-08-18T20:15:00.000-05:00

Two years - and 577 posts - ago, I started this blog. Last year, on my first "blogiversary," Yaakov re-designed the site. I'm not doing anything that exciting this year, but I am taking reader questions again (you can leave them via comments or email). I appreciated your input so much last year.

And now I have a question for you! I'm curious to know, how did you find this blog?

p.s. Hillary's going to be the next president.

Hashem brings forth the bread from the Earth...

2007-08-17T10:27:00.000-05:00

Today while kneading my challah I let Rivky and Srulik stick their hands in the bowl. They had such a good time with the sticky dough, and I had fun watching them. But the biggest deal of it all was that I actually let them - I never did that before. I do let my kids help me cook, but I have my reservations. Sticking hands in dough is waaaaay out of my comfort zone. Today I said, "What's the big deal? They washed their hands." It took a little more effort from me (especially to clean them off), but we did it.

For me - a stubborn person with anxiety - this simple act was very growthful. Then came a knock at the door. The postman was dropping off something, a package from this organization. It was all about coping with miscarriage - my mashpia ordered it for me. While I insisted to her that I was fine, she felt that it was something I could benefit from "down the road." The package was gorgeous, and I'm so touched that she sent it. I feel glad that I finally have a mashpia, and that she cares so much.

Having the miscarriage prompted me to finally get help for my anxiety. Getting help for my anxiety allowed me to relax and let my kids have fun with the challah dough. And then the package came.

Now the dough has risen, and I have to do the mitzvah of hafrashas challah. And when I do, I will pray for a friend that G-d should bless her with more children. The whole thing feels like a gift: hashgocha protis with a beautiful, jaunty bow.

p.s. After I separated the challah I started singing Ben E. King's classic, Stand by Me. Oh Hashem, Hashem please, bless so-and-so, bas so-and-so...won't you please, bless her...oh Hashem, please bless her, with more children...healthy, healthy children... (does this count as elevating secular music?)

Ba'al Teshuva Dissonance:

2007-08-15T19:41:00.000-05:00

The Alter Rebbe said, "Words are the quill of the heart, music the quill of the soul." Music comes from a deep part of a person's essence, and connects the listener to that place. That is why (at least, in chassidic circles) we're taught to be careful in regards to music.

Oddly enough, when I first became frum, it wasn't hard for me to stop listening to secular music. I found solace in eclectic Jewish musicians. Shlomo Carlebach helped a lot. Simply Tsfat was another one.

As the years went by, I would sneak in music here and there. Of course, The Grateful Dead. It's not beneath me to belt out Kenny Rogers' "Lucille." Old, twangy Neil Diamond always works. Cheesy 80's pop is great for depression. I could go on and on about different music that interests and inspires me.

Yet The Alter Rebbe's words reverberate as clearly as the music does. I'd like to say, "Well, I was a Deadhead. It's different for me." But everybody loves the secular music they grew up with. And I wrestle with the idea that it's not okay. For me, listening to secular music is a rare treat. It's fun, relaxing, and therapeutic. Yet I know deep inside that I'm doing myself a disservice by listening, and it drives me crazy. I have a friend who grew up in a non-chassidic home. Her father is a Rav, and she listened to secular music all the time. For her, this is simply not an issue. Sometimes I wonder; why does it have to be an issue for me?

I believe it was Reb Shmuel Munkis who was with the Alter Rebbe when a gentile farmer tried to shoot the latter. He used his spiritual powers to prevent the assault, yet he asked R' Shmuel why he didn't try to protect him. Reb Shmuel replied, "If you're a Rebbe, no bullet can hurt you. But if you're an imposter, you deserve to be shot for the worldly pleasures you took from the chassidim."

(The Alter Rebbe was the inspiration behind Jedi Mind Trick, nu?)

My kids and my money go to...

2007-08-14T18:07:00.000-05:00

...A Lubavitcher yeshiva.

I was only planning on sending my 2 girls, and keeping Srulik at the local playgroup. But 2 days ago the playgroup teacher informed us she wasn't doing the 4 year old program. We decided to send him to the yeshiva. We looked at our numbers, and figured we could only afford X more. And when I say that, I mean we're taking money out of the grocery budget. So I called the school, and spoke to the money lady. She called me back, and agreed on the number.

First, let me tell you about yeshivas and money. They ask you a million questions, wanting to know about every penny earned and spent. I can't even deal with the money forms, too much anxiety. I make Yaakov do it. One friend described it as "taking your pants off for them." ("Oh, I see you're wearing briefs. Ten grand.")

Okay, I'm exaggerating. But that's basically it. You can hem and haw and haggle, beg and cry and plead. But somehow, some way, they're gonna get your money - and lots of it.

Now, I can't blame them. It costs a lot of money to run a school. But there's a yetzer hara I have that hates spending money like this on school. I resent it terribly. I hate that the rest of America can send their lovely kids to lovely public schools with lovely taxpayer money - a system we pay into but don't reap the benefits of.

I spoke to a mashpia before making the decision to send him, and she reminded me that G-d pays the bills. I'm glad to know somebody will.

Moonlighting...

2007-08-12T21:45:00.000-05:00

Yaakov is a "systems administrator," the techie label for the programming he does. He sometimes moonlights as a sound guy at simchas - weddings, bar mitzvas, yada yada.

So tonight I surprised him by popping in at a wedding he was doing. I couldn't find him, so I called his cell phone.

"Hi, where are you?"
"What do you mean, where am I? I'm at the wedding! Where are you?"
"I'm at the wedding, too!"
"You are? Where?"
"On the side of the orchestra, where are you?"
"On the other side!"

So we both peered across and started giggling like idiots. I made my way over and watched him fiddle around with the soundboard. A guy walked up and Yaakov introduced us. "This is the trumpet player, Yehuda." Yehuda grinned at me and said, "Your husband drives me crazy." "What a coincidence," I laughed. "He drives me crazy, too." He leaned in conspiratorially, "But I've learned how to deal with him." "Uh-huh," I nodded.

"Me too."

Young and Beautiful Love.

2007-08-11T21:01:00.001-05:00

My brother met a girl last summer in Israel. They maintained a long distance relationship for a year, and she just moved down last week to be with him. In November, they're off to Israel again (18 months) for a co-ed yeshiva program.

I adore my brother. He's smart, deep, yet totally laid back. Despite his being 9 years my junior, we've always been tight. We talk often. Yaakov and I took him to his first Phish show when he was 11.

His girlfriend is also brilliant, but very focused. He says she motivates him. She's beautiful and real, complex and assertive. They're a good match. They love each other.

I admire their earnestness, how unfettered they are by life. They're young, with the whole world ahead of them. They're learning about being in a relationship, and they're committed. They know they can get help to make things work.

My joy for them is almost tangible. Though I'm sad they'll be going to Israel for so long, I'm rooting for them. I sincerely hope they stay together and get married. I know that's their hope, too.

I think I love them because they take me back to a beautiful place in my own life.

Houses of the Holy.

2007-08-08T19:54:00.001-05:00

So today at camp carpool I rolled down the window to greet a friend of mine. "You're on the market to buy a house, aren't you?" she asked. "We're looking," I answered, wondering if she had a house in mind. "Did you see the house two doors down from Mrs. Stein? We just looked at it today." In my heart, I felt defensive. What's she doing looking at my house? Even though it's out of our price range, I still know where I'd put my furniture. I love that house.

I decided to kill this defensiveness immediately. I smiled at her. "We made an offer and were expecting a counter-offer, but she never came through. Good luck with it," I said. I thought of the Rebbe, who taught about correcting a flaw in the manner of chitzonius (outwardness). If you don't feel something inwardly, behave the proper way outwardly. The inside will eventually catch up. Fake it 'til you make it.

The whole drive home I thought about sincerity. I didn't feel sincere. But I wanted to. I wanted to feel that my friend should get the best house, even if it was the one I wanted. Plus, I really like her. A lot. I didn't want a sense of competitiveness between us.

I had the chance to see her again, tonight at a camp presentation. I was sitting right behind her. During a lull, I tapped her on the shoulder. "You know, there's a few things you should know about that block," I said, wanting to fill her in. We started to schmooze. "I didn't know you were interested in that house," she said. "We'll retract our offer if you want." "Chas v'shalom!" I answered, startled. "G-d has a house for you and a house for me, too. There's no need to do that." And at that moment, I really felt it. I felt aligned with my friend and with G-d.

She spoke about how she was worried about affording a house. I commiserated. I told her that she should have her husband get in touch with Yaakov - they could talk about the housing market together. Yaakov is very savvy about this stuff, I know he'd be able to help. It felt good getting my husband on board. It feels good to behave like a Jew.

Spies. K-Mart. Cellphone.

2007-08-07T18:02:00.000-05:00

I called a friend today and her husband answered: "We were watching you last night." A wave of paranoia swept through me, as I tried to figure out what I got caught doing. Smoking? Researching Carl Sagan online? "You were in our wedding video." Oh. not as exciting as smoking, I guess. Or Carl Sagan. Or smoking with Carl Sagan.

Today in K-Mart I had a bad experience on line. When does that not happen to me at K-Mart? I think it's mandatory that their cashiers are given downers before they start their shifts. They're slow as molasses, and rude. And my kids were going bananas, too. Plus, I held up the line trying to convince her that my items were on sale.

Yaakov's cell phone got waterlogged and it stopped working. He put it in the oven to dry it out. I'm not kidding. Do not try this at home. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. Do not put your cell phone in the oven at 170 degrees for half an hour. (The weirdest thing is, it worked!) Paging all engineering drop-outs: your Nerd Overlord has arrived.

Sail on, silver girl...

2007-08-05T18:58:00.000-05:00

Today we went out on my father-in-law's boat. The last time I was on a boat (15 years ago) I puked my guts out.

Yaakov wanted to go, the kids had life jackets, why not? Let's give it a whirl. BAD IDEA. As soon as we started I wanted to get off. I was so nauseous. Then I had to deal with my father-in-law's little platitudes: "Well, if you're not going to let yourself enjoy the experience..." I was secretly plotting to never let him in my home again.

It was 95 degrees, there was no shade. The baby was kvetchy, I was sea-sick. I tried going downstairs but that made me feel worse. There was no refuge. I hated how my father-in-law calmly steered with his foot while eating a nectarine. I hated that I had no control of my circumstances.

I was feeling miserable and I was cranky as all get out. (I later confessed to Yaakov: "When I'm cranky like that, I like to take everybody down with me." "No, really?") I realized I had a bad attitude, and I tried to think happy thoughts. It didn't quell the nausea.

After lurching in someone's wake, I finally puked. It was totally humiliating. But it did make me feel better for about 10 minutes. And I think my father-in-law started to feel compassion for me. "This must be a daughter-in-law thing," he mused. "The only other person who ever puked on this boat was Carrie."

I told my father-in-law I was sorry for puking on his boat, but I really wasn't. I'm glad I puked on it. On our way home I told Yaakov, "I'm never getting on a boat again." "Bli neder," he said. "No, I'm never getting on a boat again."

La señora de la limpieza.

2007-08-03T16:12:00.000-05:00

My regular cleaning lady, whom I like a lot, is on hiatus. I'm not even sure if she'll be returning. Therefore, I am on the hunt for more help. Yesterday, I got phone calls from three different friends asking me if I needed cleaning help! I gratefully arranged for someone to come today. We all want cleaning help before shabbos, so to find a cleaning lady with time on Fridays is a real blessing.

This lady only spoke Spanish, but that's okay with me - I took three years of Spanish in school. Though I am by no means fluent, I've never had problems communicating with cleaning ladies. I speak "cleaning lady Spanish."

Oh my lord, this lady did so many things wrong. I caught her cleaning my kids' tub with the broom. HELLO? That's gross. But what the hell, I took anthropology in college. I understand the concept of cultural relativity. Maybe in her country that's what they do. So I politely asked her - in Spanish - to use a sponge. She complied. I asked her - in Spanish - to spray the garbage can. She didn't. Zalman took the bag out of the can, and I noticed. So I asked her again to spray it, and she didn't.

When she went to clean my bathroom, I asked her before she even started to use the sponge in the shower. I found a broom bristle in there. She put one of my husband's blankets on sideways. Okay, maybe she didn't realize which direction it went, and that's fine. But the quilt was put on totally upside down. There's no way to miss that - one side has patches and the other is just plain material with the quilt knots. The pillows on my bed were just thrown on haphazardly. It's not such a big deal, but with all the other things that happened, it just proved to me that she didn't care about her work.

She mopped the floor in the playroom while there was still things on it, which totally didn't impress me. She kept trying to chat with me. Zalman had knocked the books off the bookshelf and she put them back all a mess, some standing up, some laying down, some completely the wrong way...

She also kept disappearing into the bathroom. She started late and ended early. She asked me several times if I wanted her to do anything else, but I was so annoyed with her that I just wanted her out.

She asked about coming back next week, and I thanked her but declined. She asked me if there was anything wrong with her work. I smiled politely and told her everything was fine. (Lady, I don't speak enough Spanish to tell you all the things you did to piss me off.)

p.s. She smelled, too.

T.V. = TabooVision

2007-08-01T10:45:00.001-05:00

I got a call from Hinda this morning, asking me if I knew any 5th grade girls in the neighborhood. A new family moved in, and she's helping their daughter.

So she tells me that she knows a family with a 5th grader, "but the mother was talking about a TV program once, and I didn't want to send this little girl there..."

I said I didn't know any 5th graders, but I recommended two lovely 3rd graders that I knew. Hinda was delighted! "Oh yes, they're aidel girls. Perfect." It was only after I got off the phone with her that I realized that one of those girls had a television in her house.

This whole conversation struck me. TV is a little taboo in the chassidishe velt. You always hear stories about chassidim sneaking TV's into their homes in refrigerator boxes.

When I lived in Crown Heights, I only knew of three families with a television. No doubt there were many, many more. Here, I can think of lots of families with them. All are lovely people. One is even a good friend. It bothered me a little that Hinda was so quick to judge.

And here's what's ironic: Yaakov and I have never owned a TV, but we do have internet. And you know what Yaakov finds on the internet? Star Trek! So we're not watching TV, per se, but we like to chill every now and again with Captain Picard. I almost want to call her up and tell her. What would she think of me then?

Who knows? Maybe she's a closet Trekkie.

Gam zu l'tova?

2007-07-31T10:35:00.000-05:00

This morning I was thinking about my friend. Though I miss her (terribly so, at times), I know it wouldn't be healthy to go there again. I thought, how can I honor this woman who did so much for me, if I can't have a relationship with her? I decided I would keep her in mind and daaven for her and her family.

My morning trip was to a thrift store (one that she told me about, in fact). As I pulled into the parking lot I thought, "Wouldn't it be funny if I saw her here?" When I went to pay, I saw two frum girls nearby. I froze. Her daughters. "Oh hi how are you how old are you now wow you got so big how nice to see you who did you come with?" Their mother.

Somewhere in that crazy store was a woman that I longed to see. I wanted to, yet I was terribly afraid. I stood on line. Zalman was freaking out, and I needed to leave. The girls would report my presence to their mother, and she would find me if she wanted to. That's how I left it. Yep, she's going to come find me and see Zalman whacking me with my cell phone. She'll see my beautiful son with his snotty nose, and be amused, and it'll be terribly awkward but nice at the same time. I nervously waited on line. She never came, and I left without searching for her.

I cannot help but feel cowardly.

Fancy Schmancy Recipe Maven.

2007-07-29T09:38:00.000-05:00

I came up with this for shabbos:

I sliced an unpeeled eggplant into rounds and laid them in a 9x13 pan. I covered the eggplant well with tomato sauce and threw some green pimiento olives in. Then I put a chicken (cut in 8ths) on top, and poured some of the juice from the olive jar atop the chicken. Then I arranged some of the pimientos on top of each piece.

Baked at 425 for about 90 minutes, very yummy.

p.s. Totally random, but this has become one of my favorite sites. You'll never find more beautiful royals.

Dear Readers,

2007-07-27T08:30:00.001-05:00

Thank you for the kind comments on my last post. When you share your experiences, it furthers the notion that there's a "sameness" to all of us. It makes me feel not so alone.

A few things touched me particularly:

One person emailed me, saying the post helped clarify some feelings she had after her miscarriage. It touched me deeply that something I wrote could benefit someone else.

Another cheered me on my path to becoming "more fancy, and less anxious." I got a kick out of that - I might have to make that my motto!

Lastly, Toronto Pearl complimented the writing! I love to write. Getting accolades for it is really affirming. Thank you, Pearlie.

Thank you all for reading and sharing my journey with me.

Shabbat Shalom.

The Miscarriage.

2007-07-25T12:21:00.000-05:00

When it was first happening, I decided I wasn't going to write about it. I didn't want to cheapen the experience, I didn't want the loss of my pregnancy to become blog fodder. But now it's over, really over - and I'm okay.

When we found out I was pregnant we were surprised, and sheepishly pleased. This baby would have been our closest space yet, 18 months apart from Zalman. We started thinking about juggling school tuition and midwifery payments. We calculated that we'd have our baby in February. We wondered if we could hack it, parenting five young children.

I called my midwife, who was surprised and happy for me. We scheduled our first appointment for a later time. I felt Yaakov and I had a secret with G-d, a warm little secret growing inside.

I was craving protein and started eating more. I began taking my pre-natals and extra iron. I'd cast furtive glances at the calendar, at the cryptically circled date for my first appointment. Even my calendar was in cahoots with me.

I started bleeding on a Friday morning. I sighed with a heavy heart and went back into the kitchen. Breakfast to make, lunches to prepare. I finally had a moment alone with Yaakov. "Oh no," he said, crestfallen. But I was too busy that day to grieve. I had challah to make, a million things to do for shabbos.

Yet at every moment I knew: My precious secret was bleeding out of me.

As the days passed, I wanted to tell everybody. I wanted to tell the Publix cashier. The UPS guy. It was weird that people were interacting with me like nothing was amiss. It was strange being nonchalant with the world.

I did make it to that appointment with my midwife, but it wasn't a prenatal visit. She was taking my blood, confirming the miscarriage was complete. She comforted me.

In retrospect, the miscarriage was a blessing. I was off the wall emotionally, my anxiety was through the roof. Though I'm sure the miscarriage exacerbated them, they're feelings I deal with all the time. After the miscarriage I finally decided to get help.

Perhaps a part of me had to die, so another part could ultimately live.

Food Drama.

2007-07-22T21:51:00.000-05:00

I originally joined Weight Watchers after Rivky was born, about 6 years ago. I was determined, and stuck to my points like a champ. Every week I'd call a buddy and crow over the 3-4 lbs I'd lost. Not only did I lose my pregnancy weight, but I lost an extra 20 lbs I'd been carrying around for years.

I faithfully maintained my weight loss until I got pregnant with Srulik. That was my license to eat. Oh man - did I ever. I gained about 60 lbs (as I have in all my pregnancies). Pregnancy is my excuse to fall off the wagon. Anyway, Srulik was born and it was back to Weight Watchers. Again I lost it all, and maintained.

Then I got pregnant with Zalman! Again I ate like a fiend. Pass the brownies, baby. And ramen noodles, I had big cravings for those. Hot and sour soup - 3 times a week for awhile there. Towards the end of the pregnancy, I couldn't bare to tell my midwife how much I was gaining. Hell, I was afraid to know myself! She'd send me into the bathroom to weigh myself, and I'd just slide the measuring bars up and down the scale so she'd hear the clacking. Then I'd report whatever sounded good: "I gained half a pound." I have no doubt I gained between 65-70 lbs with that kid, but I'll never truly know.

And I lost it all. Almost.

I keep hearing that weight loss is harder as you get older. This time, I can't seem to drop the last 5 pounds to reach my personal goal. Not only can I not drop them, I keep adding to them. I don't know what my problem is. Friday afternoon I kept eating and eating. Then the shabbos queen arrived, and I kept eating and eating.

I had a miscarriage about 3 weeks ago, and part of me wants to blame that. "Oh, you're all hormonal, this is all related to the miscarriage." But that's a crock, and I know it. I've been overeating a lot lately. I eat unhealthy foods, and I get depressed. And then I'm depressed, so I'll eat. It's a vicious cycle, the snake swallowing her tail. I know eating poorly makes me feel poorly, physically and emotionally. I totally feel the difference when I eat raw fruits and vegetables.

This morning I had a thought: Eating well is an act of self-love and self-care. I have to have ahavas yisroel for myself, and eat in a self-respecting way. It's not new-agey to say that the body is the temple of the soul, it's really true.

So tonight I only ate one, yes, ONE slice of pizza. I don't remember the last time I had just one (yes, ONE) slice of pizza. I did not eat anybody's crusts. I did not eat the cheese left in the box. I exercised self-control.

My Weight Watchers leader puts a new twist on an old cliche. "Nothing tastes as good as being in control feels." And you know what?

She's right.

Wow!

2007-07-20T14:45:00.000-05:00

Remember the incident in shul last week? Well, guess what? Tova just brought me shabbos flowers! I thought that was big of her, don't you? And brave, too. I wish I would've thought of it first, I'm very touched.

Царство Русское, goodbye.

2007-07-19T19:52:00.000-05:00

According to Lenin; "An intelligent Russian is almost always a Jew, or someone with Jewish blood in his veins." Maybe he said that because a disproportionate number of Bolsheviks/communists were Jews. Maybe he said that because there was Jewish blood in his own family. Maybe it's true.

I have mentioned my interest in Russian history before. I have also mentioned my interest in royal families. I have long known about Jewish involvement in Russia's revolutionary history.

What I did not know - until tonight - was that it was a Jew who murdered the The Romanovs. The Tsar, Tsarina, their 4 daughters, their son, and some loyal servants. I knew their story - ordered into their basement and murdered in cold blood. I did not know their murderer was named Yakov Yurovsky. Okay, it was him and 9 others. But he was their leader.

Yakov Yurovsky.

I want to rationalize. Russians trace their religion patrilineally. Many Russians with Jewish fathers claim to be Jewish, while according to Jewish law they are not. There's a part of me that's hoping that Yakov, nicknamed "Yankel," was not really Jewish.

You know, I can't say the Romanovs weren't anti-semites. They were - famously so. But that's not why Yurovsky murdered them. He was angry at their bourgeoisie, their politics. He was one of many revolutionaries at the time. The murder of the royal family was a facet of a larger Bolshevik revolution, though perhaps its most glorious.

Five royal children were murdered. That is so wrong. Yurovsky's son claimed his father was haunted by his role in the regicide. Ninety years later, I too am haunted.

A Jew should not have the hands of Eisav.

Archie and Edith...

2007-07-18T18:16:00.000-05:00

Yaakov: Make sure you buy celery for me before tisha b'av.
Me: Okay.
Yaakov: Can you believe it? Twelve years.
Me: I thought it was thirteen?
Yaakov: No, we met tisha b'av in '95.
...pause...
Me: (changing subject) I must be a glutton for punishment.
Yaakov: ...?
Me: (laughing) No, I meant that I ate too many tacos tonight.

Meshuggener Magnet....

2007-07-17T12:18:00.000-05:00

So I'm in Publix today with 3 kids. I needed to go down a certain aisle, but there was a lady blocking it with her cart. She was re-arranging Coke cans on the end-cap display. Finally I said, "Excuse me, ma'am." She turned and grumbled loudly, but acquiesced.

I continued shopping and got on line. The lady in front of me was slowwwwly placing each item onto the belt. Then she started to push her cart backwards, edging me out of line. When she did that, I realized it was Coke-can lady.

I didn't think anything about it, I just waited until she moved her cart again. Then I put down one of those plastic divider thingies and proceeded to put my groceries on the belt. She threw her lettuce at the magazines and yelled, "Would you wait?! I'm not *&$#@% done with my groceries yet!" My eyes flew open in surprise. The cashier looked at her, startled.

Whoa.

"The belt moves," I pointed out to her. "Even if you aren't done it will still make room." (You see, I hadn't realized she was a total nutjob at this point. What can I do? I'm slow about these things.) When it was my turn to pay, the cashier told me she said I was stalking her throughout the entire store. "Don't tell the management," I replied. "Okay," she grinned. "Just stop stalking people."

When I recounted the story to Yaakov, I told him I understand why he calls me a meshuggener magnet. "Like attracts like," I laughed. "Don't get excited," he said. "You're not that bad."

Quandary:

2007-07-15T06:50:00.000-05:00

Yesterday in shul there was a kiddush. Whenever this happens I'm happy: A) It means I don't have to prepare shabbos lunch and B) I get to see the other ladies in shul and socialize.

So I trekked to shul towards the end of daavening, and settled into a corner. After 10 minutes or so a certain lady - let's call her Tova - comes to me and says; "I want to talk to you about your daughters. They talk during krias haTorah and you should keep them home." She paused and looked disapprovingly at the other kids. "Believe me, I have a lot of mothers to call tonight."

She's right. It's not appropriate for kids to be noisy in shul. The mothers generally ignore their prattle, as long as they don't get out of hand.

Anyway, I know Tova and her schtick, so I just said, "Thanks for telling me." The kiddush got underway and Rav Plony started talking. Tova was flashing her eyes at the chirping kids, even lecturing one as he wriggled by her. Zalman was in my arms, making loud baby noises now again. During a break, I noticed Tova lecturing my husband over the mechitza that it's wrong that we bring our children to shul. At that moment I got angry, and I didn't like how I felt. I decided I would say something nice to her, to diffuse my negativity.

"I really like your shirt, Tova," I said, sincerely meaning it (even though I still felt annoyed). "Oh thanks," she smiled. Then Rav Plony started talking again, and she stood up to listen. He was talking more quietly than ususal, and Zalman started to get a little louder. I was just realizing it was time to take him out, but not before Tova hissed,

"When I had young children I never took them to shul! I either stayed home or sat outside! This is not fair!" Her sudden vitriol took me by surprise, and I felt tears coming on. "This isn't daavening," I pointed out, "This is farbrengen. Farbrengen is about ahavas yisroel (loving your fellow Jew). I don't mind what you said to me, Tova, but you could have said it in a kinder, more sisterly, more chassidishe way." (Another aspect of farbrengen - chassidim help each other improve their character). With that, I left.

I stood outside in the sun, angry and sad. I hated feeling that way towards her. I closed my eyes and prayed aloud, "Please G-d let me have ahavas yisroel. Please G-d let me have ahavas yisroel," over and over again. I cried as I asked G-d for His help.

Readers, how should I resolve this? Should I call her? Wait for her to call me? Let it go?

Overheard:

2007-07-13T09:47:00.000-05:00

Chaya: Guys, do you know what a nursing home is?
Rivky + Srulik: No.
Chaya: It's where mommies go to nurse their babies when the other kids in the house are too wild.

The things that jab us...

2007-07-12T10:18:00.001-05:00

A long while ago, while smoothing the quilt on my bed, I got stuck by a pin. Pulling my hand back in pain, I proceeded to search for the culprit. Try as I might, I could not find it.

Last night, snuggled under my quilt, I got stuck again. I quickly reached down where I felt the poke. Aha! I felt a needle lodged inside the quilt! I tried to work it out with my fingers, but realized it was a scissor-job.

I left the quilt and went for scissors. Upon returning, I couldn't locate the pin again. I ran my hand over the area and finally found it. It was dark, and my baby was asleep in the room. Using a little book light, after many attempts, I removed the pin.

I can't help but think it a metaphor.

Modus Operandi:

2007-07-11T14:17:00.000-05:00

So I had an epiphany yesterday: I was at a friend's, having a playdate. Her social worker husband is the guy we took our Love and Logic courses with, and she's a Love and Logic educator as well.

Anyway...I was telling her how anxious it made me that my kids got so wild and rough with each other. While chatting, Srulik (3 1/2) threw himself head-first over the back of the couch, kicking me squarely in the mouth. A prime example of my kids in action!

So she laughed, and said they all seemed normal. Then she said, "Oh yeah, when my kids get like that, I set this one up with her laptop and that one up with his legos, and the other one with her..."

DING DING DING!!!

When my kids freak out, I often resort to hand-wringing. Oh G-d what's wrong with my kids I must not be feeding them right why are they so wild I'm a lousy mother what's wrong with me what's wrong with them what's wrong with us... Then I go expressing my concern to anyone who will listen, wanting to know if we're normal.

What I need to do is take action! Re-direct them all to do something more constructive than killing each other.

And this isn't the only example: A couple of nights ago (while making tacos), Yaakov added too much liquid to the beans. Oh no the tacos are going to be soggy what a mess what a bummer what am I going to do...I left the room for a minute and Yaakov drained the liquid off the beans. In a flash of Nike ingenuity, he just did it. Thank G-d we're married, or I'd be in big trouble.

(At the very least, I'd have taco stains.)

Confessions of an Anxiety Maven.

2007-07-08T22:04:00.000-05:00

"You've been anxious ever since I've known you, and it's been 10 years," my friend informed me this morning on the phone. "Longer than that," I countered. "I remember dealing with this stuff when I was 12."

We started talking about my issues. "I can't leave my house unless it's clean, is that normal?" I asked. "Like today, we're going to pick up my brother. I could not leave the house Until. It. Was. Clean. I'll bet it would be really healthy for me to leave it one day," I mused. "Walk out and shut the door, leaving the mess. Of course," I added, "There are people who can't leave their houses until they swab them down with alcohol. I've read cases like that."

You know, I just had to make that hefsek between me and raging OCD. I don't have compulsions. But anxiety and ruminations? I've lived with those for years. They're a part of me, and I'm uncomfortably used to them. "Change is hard," I told my friend. "It's easier to get pregnant than to face a psychiatrist." Those words were ones I'd felt for a long time, yet telling her them made them real. It was startling to hear them. It's startling to type them.

I won't take meds when I'm pregnant or nursing, states I'm often in. And I'm hiding behind these maternal veils because I'm afraid to get help. I'm afraid to talk to a stranger about my turmoil. I'm afraid medication won't help. You know, The Rebbe said if you are locked in jail, it is you sitting on the keys. Rebbe, what can I do?

I'm afraid to stand up...

Bein Hametzarim

2007-07-03T20:12:00.000-05:00

Today was the 17th of Tammuz, which begins 3 weeks of mourning on the Jewish calendar. It is the day the Romans breached the walls of Jerusalem.

I was particularly angry and frustrated today, and I realized that too often I operate from this place. I get anxious, which manifests as anger. For example - all my kids ran away from me in the grocery store. I got anxious. I yelled, "If I can't see you, I can't keep you safe! You know better than that!" I mean, that's normal, but I get anxious about so many things. If my house isn't in order, I feel unsettled. Then I send out a lot of negative energy. Man, am I uptight!

I was thinking about my anger. My foreign anger - Roman anger - not consonant with my Jewish soul. I took some deep breaths, and I talked to it. "You breached my walls," I told Anger. "But you cannot breach the beis hamikdash in my heart."

Ewwwww...

2007-07-01T19:19:00.000-05:00

The folks who live diagonally behind us have two puppies, who are unfortunately allowed to run loose. They like us, and yip and yap all the time in front of our house. They're cute, in their dopey puppy way.

The puppies have had some close calls with traffic. Several times Yaakov has deposited them back over the fence. He even spoke to the neighbors, telling them it would be best to keep them in their yard.

WELL.

This past shabbos they got into one of the neighbors trash bags. They proceeded to tear it apart, spilling it's contents all over our yard. One of the items was a pair of bloody thong underwear. I can't make this stuff up, folks. Bloody. thong. underwear.

So today we were driving in the neighborhood, and I said, "let me knock on their door and talk to them." Yaakov pulled over. No answer. I decided to write a note:

Dear Neighbors,

Please keep your puppies enclosed in your yard. They opened a garbage bag and dumped its filthy, nasty contents all over our grass. If you do not keep them on your property, I will call animal control and report you. Consider yourself warned.

I didn't sign it, and I stuck it in their door. Maybe I should have left them the underwear as "Exhibit A."

"Private" time with Dr. B.

2007-06-30T21:52:00.000-05:00

I found this book at a library book sale. I perused it, and noticed Dr. Brazelton used proper names for private parts. No problem. I bought the book, stuck it in the toy cabinet, and forgot about it.

In our house, everything "down there" is private. It's generic, and works for both genders. "Wash your privates," I'll tell my kids in the tub.

I like the word "privates" because it reinforces the nature of the area. When I talk to my kids about safety, the word "private" is a real winner. "Do you know why these are called "privates?" Because they're private, only for you. No one else can touch them." They understand this. They talk about it and remind each other.

But back to Dr. Brazelton. This morning I found Chaya (7), reading the book. Her brow was furrowed and her lips were moving, trying to sound out unfamiliar words. It was a no-brainer what page she was on. Later in the morning, she came to me.

"Mommy, I didn't understand some of the words." I realized we were having a pivotal moment. "Okay," I said. "What words don't you understand?" She opened the book and pointed to one, a little embarrassed. "No problem, sound it out." So she did. "Do you understand what that is?" I asked. She pointed to her privates. "That's actually the name for a boy's private part." She made a silly face. Then she tried another one. I had to suppress a laugh as I whispered the correct pronunciation. She whispered back, "At first I thought the word was veggie." We laughed.

I asked her, "Which words do you like better? Would you like to use the real names, or do you want to stick with "privates?" She was thoughtful for a moment. "I like the word "privates." It's more tsnius (modest)." I was impressed. "I think you're right," I added, "The words you just learned are also private. Don't go sharing them." She said she wouldn't.

This was a positive experience for both of us.

Inspiration, move me brightly...

2007-06-29T09:10:00.000-05:00

My friend called me last night, the one I mentioned a couple of posts ago. I hadn't spoken to her in awhile (I was afraid to call!). I finally mustered up the courage to ask if I had upset her. She wasn't upset, and she wasn't particularly shocked or bothered by what I told her that day, either. Which was so refreshing, so liberating to hear.

I realized that I still have pain and shame over my past mistakes. I projected my self-loathing onto my friend, assuming she was as disgusted with me as I am with myself. It simply was not true. She responded to me with great love and compassion, a most nurturing balm.

I also think that the projection I made onto her was from an ego-place. Had I not gotten so absorbed in my own view of the situation, I could have seen it from a larger perspective.

It was so healing to talk to her, a wonderful part of yud beis-yud gimmel tammuz. I am so grateful that G-d gave me this friend, and this learning experience. Maybe I had to go through this head trip to arrive at a place of greater clarity and joy.

Yud Beis Tammuz

2007-06-27T22:56:00.000-05:00

Today is the birthday of the Frierdikker Rebbe, the previous Lubavitcher Rebbe. It is also the anniversary of his release from Soviet prison.

One of the Frierdikker Rebbe's legacies was his mesirus nefesh (self-sacrifice) for fellow Jews. At a farbrengen this evening, the speaker said; "If someone tells you, jump from the roof to the ground, okay, this can be done. But what the Frierdikker Rebbe did was jump from the ground to the roof. His mesirus nefesh was not normal, the things he did were impossible." He worked tirelessly in Soviet Russia, helping Jewish life as it was forced underground. For his efforts he was harassed, jailed, and beaten.

One of the things the Frierdikker Rebbe said was, "L'alter l'teshuva, l'alter l'geula." "Immediate return (repentance), immediate redemption." He believed (and publicized) that when Jews return to their purity, Moshiach will arrive.

Such an effort! How much work must each of us do to uncover our purest selves? Yet, I think the Frierdikker Rebbe reminds us that this can be instantaneous.

L'chaim!