Children and the truth

Recently I have been thinking about the whole issue of children and how their parents deal with issues that are difficult. No one ever said that being a parent was easy, but when it comes to dealing with difficult issues, parents have two obligations to their children that often require exactly opposite behavior. As parents we need to protect our children. That means that we have to keep them away from things that might hurt or harm them. We do NOT allow our children the freedom to run into the street, ingest toxic substances, or use dangerous implements.

As parents, we also have an obligation to mediate events for our children. By that I mean that when children are exposed to new situations, we must prepare them the best we can so that they are not traumatized (for example if we are moving homes, we need to tell the child in advance so that he/she doesn’t one day wake up to see his/her room being packed up.) Since we mediate events and experiences both future ones and events that are taking place “in real time” for our children, they must be able to trust us. If we say, “when we go to the doctor today you are going to get an injection, but it won’t hurt,” then we are risking our children not being able ever to trust that when we say something won’t hurt, it won’t. We have to be honest with them. If we are not honest with them, then they will not rely on our take on reality and will instead choose others to mediate it for them. This kind of trust is very important. For example, if they see someone smoking and they trust their parent, then when the parent tells them that smoking can be harmful to one’s health, the child will accept that. Lying to children is with very few exceptions, a very bad choice.

But what does a parent do when those two obligations collide? What happens when telling the truth will hurt the child?

Sometimes it is not necessary to say anything. If, for example, a distant acquaintance of yours was killed in a car accident, it is probably not a wise idea to discuss it in front of a young child.

Sometimes it is not necessary to tell all of the truth. If someone the child knows well was killed in the auto accident, it is not advisable to describe the accident or the injury in detail. A simple explanation (“they car went off the road”; “the car was hit by another car”) is sufficient for the young child. Telling the truth does NOT mean telling all of the gory details.

When the event is something that directly affects the child, the parent needs to share the information to the extent the child is able to understand, carefully choosing words and choosing a time and place that allows for discussion, questions, and whatever emotional support that may be needed.

Sometimes it seems to me that parents tell their children too much too soon. Children’s brains are not just miniature adult brains. They actually work differently. They process information differently. They form images to remember information and sometimes those inaccurate images can stay with them and disturb them for a long time.

When sharing heavy, difficult things with your children make sure that you check to see if they understood what you told them. Have them tell you what they heard you say, but in different words so that you know that they haven’t misunderstood. Give them plenty of emotional support and don’t lie to them– but you don’t have to tell them everything.

It’s that time of year

It took me a long time to realize that the anticipation of all of the Pesach cleaning, arranging, purchasing, and cooking was ten times worse than the actual work involved. Some people even become psychiatrically ill. But, with a schedule in mind and a little pre-planning, I have been able to get through it tired, maybe (OK, exhausted, for sure) but generally with little anxiety. Here are some of my coping skills and I recognize that different folks are really different, so they may or may not work for others.

1. For staples, I hit the best stocked supermarkets/stores early. I have already been to the two most likely candidates and picked up items that I might be crushed getting in another few days. All of the non-perishables are sitting in my entry hall and the one bag of frozens (OK, gefilte fish, if you must know) is triple-wrapped in my freezer.

2. I then make a list of what I still need (excluding fruits, veggies, and meats, all of which come later) and go out and get them (maybe what I will be doing today. Who knows?)

3. I pre-clean the fridge. Meaning- I one by one take out all of the shelves, clean them throughly as well as all of the space around them on the walls of the fridge, and then put down newspaper to keep them from getting dirty in the interim.

4. Since I have a self-cleaning oven, I put it on about now and have it clean. I do that because I was traumatized my first year with this oven when it cleaned itself while simultaneously blowing a fuse which I only found out about as I slipped my turkey into the oven erev Pesach. What ensued was much gnashing of teeth and punching of small objects (ouch)…. or perhaps only a frantic call to a repair man. And yes, Virginia, there is a G-d: the repairman, Claude Anton, may he be blessed with a long life, not only came within minutes, but knew exactly what had happened, had the part in his vehicle, and replaced it for an insignificant sum of money. But I still don’t trust the oven and so I clean it a week ahead of time to prevent a potential melt-down on my part.

5. I buy a couple of meters of that very wide heavy patterned plastic material that is usually used for tablecloths. That will later be cut and taped to all of my counters.

6. The three most important cleaning accessories for Pesach are:

a. a good supply of plastic gloves (fortunately there are no pictures of my hands at sdarim in the past before this discovery, but they were tell-tale gray from silver polish and dry and cracking from other cleaning products). This is not a “nice to have;” this is a requirement.
b. A supply of wooden toothpicks. Nothing does better on crevice dirt than toothpicks. If you are a dirt Attila as I am around Pesach, a large number is recommended as they break under the pressure of my dainty little hands.
c. Razor blades. Sad to say, I can’t find the plain blades like they have in the US that slide into a holder. Here I usually end up using one of those box cutters and make it do all sorts of things it would never do if given the choice. I turn it in every different direction to scrape off all sorts of things. Sometimes something that is stuck on just needs a little bit of extra encouragement in order to choose to come off.

Cleaning products:

In addition to all of the usual, I have two that I cherish.

a. Cilit (or other equivalent)- It’s that stuff that removes mineral build-up from toilets, sinks, and any other place that water may sit. One shpritz of Cilit can save minutes of scrubbing.

b. Cold grease remover: A couple of years ago I sent my oldest granddaughter, Hadas (sometimes known as my Beijing traveling pal) to the store to get me some oven spray for the rack of the self-cleaning oven. She came back with a non-aerosol spray that was a remover of cold grease. Since it had a picture of an oven on it, I decided that she couldn’t have been that far off. I used it and it worked amazingly. I then tried it out on the bottom of one of my pots. I sprayed it on and waited for about 5 minutes and literally wiped the blackened, browned, ugly grease stains right off the bottom of the pot. One more reason to love the kid!

Since we will be having around 25 people for seder and at least 10 per meal for the previous shabbat and for lunch on the first day, we decided to do it all on disposable dishes– something I resisted for years, but this time the decision had to do with saving my daughters and daughter-in-law the unpleasantness of dishes- since they are always the ones who insist on helping. So, a few weeks ago I went and bought all of the disposables we will need for several years (or so it seems). Pretty much everything is white as are the tablecloths, but I bought beautiful table runners and napkins and I think it will look festive. Surely the beautiful faces around the table will make it perfect!

So here we are, about 10 days from Pesach and a lot already done. Next will be the making of the shopping lists for the meat (I have someone who delivers), the dairy products, and the vegetables.

A second post with further instructions is on its way… but I am off to buy the raisins and ketchup I forgot the last time….

Test Post

This is a test post to see if my new blog settings are working correctly. This is a picture of my granddaughter, Kinneret Esther, eating a pyramid in memory of our ancestors who built the pyramids in Egypt.

Kinneret Eating a Pyramid

Time

When I was young, I used to think of what it would be like to grow old. It was hard for me to believe that I would ever get old. The years passed and although I had children, I didn’t feel as if I were growing older. As I entered my 40s, life was good and I was active and I didn’t feel old. When my children started getting married, it was OK. When the grandchildren started being born, it was wonderful. And as the years passed and I watched the little ones grow, I still felt young. At 50 I made aliya. I opened a whole new chapter in my life. Eventually we bought our house and we settled down to a stable life here in Israel. And it’s all been good.

But suddenly I am looking at the fact that I am getting older. I think I still have a lot of energy. I have decided to stop teaching and I do very little supervision and practically no therapy. I enjoyed it for many years. Now I look forward to the trips I take and even more to the trips I lead. Learning about new places– their history, their culture, their arts, their people is exciting and fascinating. Seeing the world through the eyes of a Chinese person or a Cambodian is wondrous. I get excited about the things I do.

But at the same time, harsh reality pokes me in the eye. My dear cousin, the one who spanned generations between mine and that of my parents, has died. And although I hadn’t seen him in years, we had begun writing to each other sporadically and I was looking forward to having him and his wife come and visit and asking him some of the questions about our family that I had never gotten to ask my mother. He was a good person. He had an infectious smile and a good sense of humor and a depth that was apparent when through all the turmoil of that family, he maintained his equanimity. He was always pleasant and friendly. I will miss him.

And that means that I am now the old one– and I am too young to do this. In my head, I am still in my 30s. Where did those years go?

Time is precious. We should never take it for granted and we should use it wisely.

I’m repeating myself

I know it. I have said this before– probably a few times before. But who goes to look at what I said a year or two or three ago?

It’s about appreciation.

We all learn to appreciate good health just about the time that our noses are running and coughing has become an Olympic sport.

We appreciate good weather when it’s pouring rain and we have errands to do.

We appreciate home cooking whe we’ve eaten out and the spices were not to our liking.

We appreciate those we love when they are far away.

Appreciation is what most people want from their spouses and family members. We all like hearing “thank you” and “I love you” and “I’m happy to see you.” We all like knowing that others value us. And yet, it seems that many people forget to let those they love know how much they are appreciated.

My mother was the kind of person who had so many issues of her own that she could not appreciate the people who were closest to her. For her, famiy members were only worthwhile in that they were available to meet her needs. If we didn’t meet her needs, we were useless. Sometimes her need was to show off. “Look how pretty/smart my daughter is!” and then we would be appreciated for a moment. Shows of affection were only given on camp visiting day– a hug and a kiss. No, scratch that, a kiss and then some motion of her fingers on my face either trying to wipe a blemish away or flick off a loose eyelash. I was never OK. I always needed some fixing up. Praise? No. Not even when I accomplished something noteworthy.

Did I grow up OK? I think I made it through. I needed to do a lot in terms of “being my own mother”– transforming her negative messages to me into healthier messages about trying and working hard and accepting even second best after a serious effort.

But our kids shouldn’t have to just “make it through” nor should our marriage. Appreciation costs us very little. It means we have to open our eyes and see what is in front of us and to take note of the kindness, the goodness, the sweetness, the devotion of the people around us and to let them know that we appreciate them.

Did you forget something?

The family all made it here. And a fine bunch they were! Lots of fabulous costumes, excellent food gifts, and lots of fun.

I always worry that people will forget things that they brought. Today when I checked, it turned out pretty well. We had some extra mishlochei manot and one extra chumash– not bad.

But then the doorbell rang and there she was standing at the entrance to our apartment talking to me about someone she saw and not knowing who the person was and trying to have a conversation and not understanding… and I could barely understand her. She was confused and lost and I realized she was all alone with no one to take care of her. And finally, she wished me a happy Purim and then my neighbor went to her apartment…

And no, there were no forgotten children left here.

p.s. The computer ate my last posting… probably because I talked about excessive amounts of food… I’m sorry, computer. From now on I will leave out the food parts (yeah, like that’s gonna happen on a blog written by a Jewish grandmother)

It was great!

Despite all of my worries about the sleeping arrangements for this past shabbat, it all worked out. Friends were kind enough to host two children and other friends hosted a couple and three of their children, leaving us with a mere 17 people sleeping at our house. Amazingly, everyone was able to sleep! The children finally quieted down at about 11:30 p.m. and we didn’t hear from them again until after 7 a.m.

Friday night dinner was a real treat as I looked around the room and realized that all of those people were my family. Each and every one of the precious grandchildren was such a special treat. They are growing up so nicely and two are already in their teens!

Of course the most important part of the shabbat was the brit of our newest grandson, son of my daughter Rachel and her husband Ohad. The baby is beautiful and the synagogue on shabbat morning was filled with not only our usual shabbat morning people and those who came because of the brit, but also the women in the community who show up at special times since this was shabbat zachor.

So in this mass of people, our newest grandson was brought into the covenant of Avraham Avinu (our father Abraham) with tears and happiness, and given the name Yirmiyahu Yaakov (in English translation, Jeremiah Jacob). His parents will be calling him “Yirmi” which is a sweet sound in Hebrew.

As I looked at him and heard people wishing “L’torah, l’chupah, u’l’maasim tovim” wishing him to grow up to learn Torah, to marry, and to do kind deeds, I realized how much I want to be here to see all of that and to cherish all of the moments in between with his parents, his siblings, and with him.

Welcome to the world, Yirmi!

There were ten in the bed and the little one said…

We are looking forward to a fabulous shabbat! The little boy (AKA “he who has no name”) will be the star of the show as family and friends gather to welcome him into the community of Israel.

And I am thrilled.

And also shell-shocked.

For my blessings have caught up with me.

Because on this shabbat, in addition to our youngest daughter who lives a 10 minute walk away from here with her husband and baby and our older daughter, who lives an 8 minute walk away from here with her husband and 6 children (one of them being the selfsame “he who has no name”), we will be enjoying shabbat with our son from Rechovot and his 6 children, our son and his wife from Alon Shevut and their 6 children, and our son and his wife from Givat Shmuel and their 5 children.

Now the meals are no problem (well, they are not MY problem…. my daughter and her husband are taking are of them) but where to sleep? Since the majority of my friends and acquaintances are sane, it was highly unlikely that any one family could be sent to anyone else’s house to sleep… so it appears that we will be able to have a total of 7 people accomodated at 2 locations offsite and the rest of the visitors will be here with us. That means that something like 17 people will be sleeping at our house.

“Let’s face it,” I said to my husband, “there’s no way we will be sleeping Friday night.”

but it will be wonderful having everyone here together for such a happy occasion….

TW3*

This week (as much as I can remember of it…)

Monday: out to Alon Shevut to visit our 6 grandchildren there and most specifically boy/girl twins, Yael and Menachem, who had recently had birthdays… accompanied by Barbie and Thomas the Tank Engine. Home via Malcha Mall in Jerusalem where we had burgers.

Tuesday: To a home wig sale (didn’t buy but am still considering) and then to Jerusalem with Hadas (14 year old oldest granddaughter) for her interview at an amazing school. Out to lunch with her at (you guessed it) the Malcha Mall Food court (this time, dairy) then to Petach Tikvah for a meeting of the Shai Bar Ilan Tour Guides to China.

Wednesday: who remembers?

Thursday: Went with our friends on a beautiful hike to see the blue lupin that are blossoming now. On the hill were also wild mustard and a profusion of poppies and cyclamens.

When we got back, my younger daughter, Leah, called and asked me to meet her and her baby Kinneret at the nearby coffee shop. While there, my husband called to tell me that my youngest son his wife, and their 5 children were dropping by. We took them out to pizza at a nearby place that has outdoor equipment for little children and so their children were pretty content which made the parents and grandparents pretty content too!

Friday: Had to get to the shopping center extra early before all of the parking places were taken (here everybody has shabbat!) Did this with our daughter Rachel’s youngest daughter, tow-headed Nomi in tow… Rachel was off to the hospital in Jerusalem at 1 week, 6 days beyond her due date, hoping to be induced. Home to unload groceries and then out again to the fruit and veggie store where they have special “otsar haaretz” products (because this is the shmitta year– and if you don’t understand this, good luck on google) and to the special bakery for four large challot because we were preparing for our oldest son and his 6 children to spend shabbat with us. Meanwhile, the hospital told my daughter to go home and rest because there was no possibility of an induction on Friday and they only induce on Saturdays for medical necessity. In the end, for dinner, we had a small crowd with our son, his 6 children and 4 of my older daughter’s children.

Shabbat (Saturday) All of us were up and getting ready to go to the synagogue when we heard a knock at the door. My grandson said, “Mommy went to the hospital and I have a baby brother!”

Screams and hugs followed.

Saturday night: Went to Jerusalem to visit the mom and babe. He’s a beautiful little blondie!

Sunday morning: After having been traumatized by a cleaning person who used the entire Sea of Galilee to clean my floors about 5 years ago, I haven’t had one here since. Finally last week I saw a notice put on the Modi’in email list about a reliable cleaner. I called her and arranged for her to come this morning. I’ll admit, she didn’t sound very clever. She had trouble understanding where to get off the bus even though we live down the block from the first bus stop there is when you enter the city from her direction. I spent no less than 10 minutes getting that clarified after she repeatedly told me that she was taking the 150 bus and not the 443 and I repeatedly told her that yes, 150 is the number of the bus and 443 was the number of the road that the bus travels on. I’m not sure she understood. Anyway, we settled on 8 a.m. today, but I really was having second thoughts. It all worked out well- she didn’t show up and I am happy.

But at about 10 a.m., I got a call from my oldest daughter telling me that she and the baby and the family are fine, but that something horrible had happened. It turns out that the science teacher at the 11 year old twins’ school was killed in an auto accident on Friday. the twins were understandably upset so off I went to pick them up…

And so it goes.

But in the end, we accomplished something wonderful this week– we saw all of our children and grandchildren, and we welcomed a very adorable new baby into the family!

* For you youngsters: TW3 was a TV show that originally was produced in Great Britain and then the format came to the US and it stood for “That was the week that was”– it was a parody of the news.

Baby, baby, baby

It’s been baby time in our family for the last 15 years. Baby time started for us with that amazing announcement: “I’m pregnant!” by our older daughter. Miraculously, although we were only in our 20s ourselves (or so it felt) we went from being parents to being grandparents. And since then, the ball has been rolling. Babies have been arriving one after the other– a couple of years bringing as many as 4 new people into the world.

Let me tell you something about some of the babies I love:

Three year old twins- Chani & Eli-
Full of excitement and energy, these two could be a fulltime job for even the most active parent. However, in this house, they are not the only children. They have twin siblings (also a boy and a girl) 2.5 years older as well as two more older brothers. Life with Chani and Eli is always interesting and full of giggles and action.

Three year old- Ami
Ami has big blue eyes and a big infectious smile. He seems to know exactly how to get what he wants from his two older brothers and three older sisters, not to mention all of the adults who he charms with his coy manner.

Three year old (almost) Abigail
The image of her mother (at least in my eyes) beautiful and fine featured, this one seems to have been talking since birth. Not only does she talk, but she says interesting, sometimes off-beat, and invariably clever things. Very easy to cuddle.

Two year old (almost) Nomi
Walking and talking, this little bundle of blonde curls is dynamite. It will be no time before she and her sister Abigail will be taking over the world with their feminine wiles. They have two big sisters and a big brother.

One and a half year old Shira
Another blonde haired, blue eyed beauty, this one ia great at making her needs known. She is happy and bouncy and her eyes sparkle. She has two big brothers and two big sisters.

8 month old Kinneret
Although still very young, this little one has a personality. Her mom says she “has attitude.” She is happy and loves to smile. She also loves to eat the string of beads that holds my reading glasses. Very cuddlesome. Right now, she has her parents to herself.

And the best news is that we aren’t finished yet!