and the pictures from today can be found at this link
It was great having the family together!
If my life were a Hallmark film
September 10, 2008 by
The film could open with the caption “September 10, 1972 — Fort Campbell, Kentucky”
We would be sitting around the kitchen table:
my husband in uniform
Benjy, blond haired, sparkling blue-eyed, inquisitive, 5 years old
Rachel, long silky haired, always busy, bubbly, full of laughter, 3 years old
Shmuly, curly brown-haired, devilish grinned, very cuddlesome, almost 2 years old
Akiva, blond haired, blue eyed baby, 5 months old
My husband would say to me, “Happy Birthday!” and I would look around the table and feel totally blessed. And he would say, “Now what do you wish for?”
And I would answer, “I want all of these children to have wonderful happy, healthy lives and to grow up and do meaningful things– to be kind to each other and to other people- to be sensitive and caring.
And he would say, “But for yourself…”
And I would say, “I want to live to see them grow up to adulthood.”
And he would say, “What would be your wildest dream?”
And I would say, “OK, I want to live to see Akiva’s wife give birth to their 6th child”
And he would laugh. And I would laugh, looking at our tiny baby.
And then the film would fade to today– and we would be picking up the phone and hearing,
“It’s a boy!”
Parents and children
September 8, 2008 by
One of the things I like to do is to listen to Garrison Keillor and “Prairie Home Companion.” I love the wholesome (for the most part) Americana. I enjoy his story telling and the skits. Last night I was listening to a recent show and he ended it with singing “I still can’t say goodbye.” The song really touched me and so I found it on YouTube and listened a couple more times to let whatever it was that I was feeling wash over me.
What I was feeling was a longing for my father. I think it’s true that I still can’t say goodbye. He was a good man. He was gentle and loving. He taught me a lot about life. He was very deep and thoughtful. And I miss him. And yes, I still can’t say goodbye even though he’s been gone for 23 years.
I made me think about this: all of the time i was raising my children, I never felt as if I was very important in their lives. I knew they needed me physically to take care of them. They needed me to wash their clothes and make their meals and to buy them the things they needed– but I never had the sense that on a deep level they really needed me or even loved me. And they were good kids– every one of them. They were bright and clever and even mostly obedient. Yet I never had the feeling that I was all that important to them as a person beyond providing what they needed.
Did my father feel that way about me? Did my mother? For as difficult a person as she was, she was enormously important to me. Despite her moods and her critical manner, all I wanted was her approval and her love. If she was angry with me, the whole world looked gray. If she was happy, I was elated. Did she know how much power she had?
Do any of us parents really know how important we are to our children?
First day of school
September 1, 2008 by
About 27 years ago I took my youngest child to nursery school. She was the fifth child in the family and as with the others, I felt happy.
The parents were asked to stay for the introductory session and after the teachers greeted the children and the parents, they gave out little paper cups with juice. As I watched my little girl take the paper cup in her two tiny hands and lift it to her mouth, tears filled my eyes. All I could think of was her vulnerability. She accepted and trusted that what the world was going to give her was healthy and good. She was so vulnerable, so trusting, so fragile and I was to some extent removing myself from the sole job of protecting her. Now I was relying on teachers to do it. But how could they ever care about her the way that I did?
Today I took Abigail to nursery school. It was not her first day; she was in school last year too, but it was her first day this year. She is three years old and looks very much like her mother (my second child). She resembles her in personality as well. She is very verbal, very clever, and she thinks about things you tell her. Today I watched her string beads with a deep concentration, choosing each bead carefully. I watched her play doctor as she typed on the computer keyboard and took a telephone call and checked all of the meds in the medicine cabinet. I watched her in the playground as holding my hand, she balanced herself walking across the tops of tires placed in the sand. As I looked at her serious face, I remembered my education professor reminding us all semester “children’s play is their work.”
I watched Abigail taking her first steps on those tires, spending her first day at school, and I felt incredibly sad.
Let me count the ways
August 25, 2008 by
How do I love them?
1. I love their happy little faces
2. I love their smiles and giggles
3. I love their excitement (at milking goats, at chickens in the trees)
4. I love their curiosity
5. I love their energy
6. I love their ways of pronouncing things
7. I love when they use big words
8. I love when they are kind to each other
9. I love the sparkles in their eyes
10. I love to watch them learn
11. I love seeing their first steps
12. I love seeing them learning and studying
13. I love hearing their questions
14. I love watching them eat
15. I love their sense of humor
16. I love the way they run instead of walk
17. I love that they see everything as new
18. I love when they laugh because others are laughing and they have no idea of why
19. I love when they grab me around my knees for a hug
20. I love having special travel partners
21. I love watching them grow
22. I love taking them places and talking to them
23. I love how they make their parents smile
24. I love when they are fresh and clean
25. I love them covered with chocolate and ice cream
And as for the big ones:
26. I love seeing them as parents
27. I love watching them care for and nurture their children
28. I love the gentleness they show their children
29. I love to watch them teach their children
30. I love seeing the pride they take in their children
31. I love seeing them accomplish important things
32. I love seeing them getting satisfaction from their work
33. I love seeing them receive recognition for what they do
34. I love knowing I’m their mom
Since you asked
August 19, 2008 by
Ida Mae was a woman who helped me with the cleaning sometime in the period or 1972-1976. She would come once a week and when she left, the house not only looked clean, but it felt clean. Often she would fold laundry too.
At the time she worked for us, we had only the four older children and they were all very young. In August of 1972 when we arrived at Fort Campbell, KY, they were 4 months, 20 months, 3 years, and 5 years old. Ida Mae was not responsible for any child care, but sometimes if I needed to run out for milk or something quick, she would look after the children.
Once, when I returned, I asked where the two little boys were. She didn’t know. That worried me. She was sure they hadn’t left the house, but it was very quiet and they were nowhere in sight. By then the older of them was approaching 4 and the younger was 2.5. after looking in every room, I opened the large hall closet. The light was on. Immediately the older one came out holding a pair of school scissors (the kind made for children with the round edges that actually can’t cut anything). And then, the little one came out. Scalped. There was some hair on his head, but it was not near the hairline at the top of his face. He looked as if he had been attacked by a lawnmower. And then I looked at the older one* a little closer. He also had areas of missing hair. Ida Mae looked at me and said, “Well, they was quiet.”
Sometime later, the following summer, I was in the living room and I noticed “the barber” walking into the house on tiptoes holding a paper cup in one hand and the other hand covering it. He went to his room, spent a few seconds there, and left again. He came in once again, still walking in a stealthy, little-kid-like manner, with the cup, and then went back out again. This was repeated many many many times. I was curious, but being that he was occupied and wasn’t bothering anyone else, I didn’t ask him what he was doing nor did I try to investigate. After about the 30th time, I decided to go to his room to see what was going on. The room was clean. Nothing was out of place. I decided to look in his drawers. I opened one after the other and found nothing notable. Until the bottom drawer. I opened it and immediately tens of bees came flying out. Inside the drawer, there must have been a hundred bees. I quickly opened the window to shoo them out. “The barber” came to the room and started shouting, “My bee collection!!!! You ruined it!!!! You ruined it!!!!”
Ida Mae had taken care of the 9 children of a doctor in her town. One of those children was Ralph. At times like these, she would say to me, “Well he done remind me of Ralph.” At times like the hair disaster, at times like the bee fiasco, at other times or disaster when I was ready to turn in my mommy card and go home. I was afraid to ask her what ever became of Ralph. I was pretty sure that Ralph was serving 10-20 for mayhem. It took a couple of years, but finally I got up the courage. I asked her, “What ever happened to Ralph?” She paused. I held my breath. She smiled. She said, “Ralph…. well Ralph, he turned out the best of them all– he got all his foolishness out when he was young!”
Ida Mae. She was the best family therapist I have ever met.
*Heretofore to be termed “the barber”
Of siblings and favorites
August 7, 2008 by
I loved receiving the comments from Sandy and Toby on my last posting. Yes, indeed. Siblings need to get along because when they do they truly are each others’ most steadfast companions through life. They share memories of events and attitudes and tastes and impressions and lots of funny stories.
My sister told me that she forgave me for the mean things I did to her because she didn’t want us to become like our parents’ siblings who didn’t get along and were not able to enjoy the warmth and intimacy they could have had with each other.
The truth is, as I look back at my childhood, I was set up to have a poor relationship with her. My mother overtly told me that it was “the brown eyes against the blue eyes.” She and my sister had brown eyes; my father and I had blue eyes. My mother stopped taking me to dancing lessons because “the baby” was sick. My dancing lessons were always the best hours of the week. So the fact that both my sister and I chose to be close and remain close was fortuitous and not what would naturally have occurred.
One of the best moments of my life (really) was the moment at my oldest son’s wedding when he and my middle son were dancing together (which is done at traditional Jewish weddings where the dancing is gender-separated) and as they swung each other around I could see big smiles on both of their faces. These were the two who squabbled the most and it was wonderful to see them rejoicing together.
As a parent, seeing ones children being kind to each other and helping each other is the ultimate high. What could be better than knowing that you have enabled your children to have warm relationships with each other that support and affirm through the years, and to know that when you are gone, they will be there for each other.
As to Toby’s response: In the course of development, children learn a number of skills. When they reach adolescence, the most important aspect of their development is individuation. The child needs to define him/herself as separate from his/her father and mother. At this time the child begins to notice which ways he/she is like and which ways he/she is unlike his/her parents. In a healthy home, the child takes much of what the parents have had to offer in the way of an example– values, attitudes, manners of behaving, religious beliefs, etc. and makes them his own- really incorporates them into his being, not as a given, but as a choice. Similarly, he/she defines him/herself as different from parents with some attitudes, values, behaviors, etc. that are different from the parents.
Now let’s look at a dysfunctional family where there are clear winners and losers as children. If the child is a loser in the parents’ eyes, he/she is really free to define him/herself as an individual. He/she knows that pleasing the parent(s) is impossible, so he/she can become his/her own person. He/she can take responsibility for evaluating his/her courses of action and take pride in making decisions. But woe unto the winners in the dysfunctional family. The winners are the children with whom the parents have so over-identified that any action or behavior contrary to the parents’ will is treason. All deviations are punished and all conformity is overwhelmingly rewarded. “Oh, look at her! She’s just like me!” For these children individuation becomes an impossible task– because all deviation from the parent(s)’ wishes is seen as betrayal. For some, individuation doesn’t happen until after the parent(s) has/have died. For some, it never happens. They never get to live their own lives. And that is why I said that it is easier to be the child who is out of favor than the one who is favored.
Yes, the chickenpox as a non sequitur
May 23, 2008 by
As Sandy (comment on last posting) has pointed out, this is not my first noteworthy experience with chickenpox. In 1978 as I was giving birth to my baby in Wiesbaden, Germany, my oldest son was on a school trip to Strasbourg, France breaking out in chickenpox. This was 2 days before Passover (the baby was born Wednesday evening and Friday evening was the first seder.)
The baby and I returned home on Friday morning to a home filled with 4 very excited children, one of whom was very pocked. That evening, as my husband conducted the community seder at the Hainerberg Chapel, I conducted a very fast seder for my oldest son, my youngest son (six years old) and my nursing baby.
About two to three weeks later, roughly corresponding to the end of a visit from my parents (not always a tension-free time), the other 3 older children all broke out in chickenpox. But wait, there’s more… The weather in Wiesbaden was, as usual, cold and rainy– so cold and rainy that for the entire duration of the children’s chickenpox (17 years– or so it felt) none of them were able to go outside to play or just get some fresh air. So there we sat, three itchy, bored children (whose only recreation was fighting with each other), my only colicky baby (and the only one I nursed), and one very tired mom (me.)
When finally I could take no more, I sent the children back to school. I got a call from the school nurse telling me that they were not yet ready to come back to school. I told her that if they couldn’t go back to school tomorrow, I would need someone from child protective services over to my house. She told me that tomorrow they would be ready.
The baby didn’t get chickenpox– or at least not that I ever could tell. However, when she was 3 she developed a case of shingles that was so unusual that she was photographed for a medical journal.
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Quoting http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/000858.htm
Herpes zoster, or shingles, is caused by the same virus that causes chickenpox. After an episode of chickenpox, the virus becomes dormant in the body. Herpes zoster occurs as a result of the virus re-emerging after many years.
The cause of the re-activation is usually unknown, but seems to be linked to aging, stress, or an impaired immune system. Often only one attack occurs, without recurrence.
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Many years??? Since we know that her immune system was fine- was it caused by aging? stress? (“oh that too too tough sandbox toy; how much sand will fit in it?”)
and that is the whole story. I swear by Kinneret’s pocks.
Decisions, decisions
April 27, 2008 by
There are times in people’s lives when they feel compelled to make a decision that in some way will lead them to variate from the norm. Some times these are decisions that come about because a person feels that he/she has principles or standards that are important to him/her. He or she may demonstrate for a cause, go on a march, distribute circulars, or wear clothing or buttons that indicate his/her support of an issue. Sometimes he/she will be restrained or arrested by police and yet the price seems worth it if the point is made. Assuming that the principle the person is fighting for is important, his/her stepping away from the norm is an educational experience for their children, showing them that the parent is willing to sacrifice for the sake of something important. Such an example would be the people who demonstrated against the expulsion of the Jewish population from Gush Katif. Although their parent may have chosen a path that led to suffering and inconvenience, the children knew what the parents’ values were and they saw them hold onto those values despite hardships.
Sometimes people step out of the norms of society for other reasons. Some such reasons are personal pleasure (like some elected officials who were caught frequenting places they shouldn’t have been), compulsion (like buying, using, and selling drugs), and obsessions taken to their logical conclusions (I hesitate to give an example but hopefully you will supply your own).
I believe that as human beings we have choices and we choose the behaviors we engage in. Pleasure can be had many ways. Of course we can spend pleasant time with our families. In an affluent society we have leisure time to take walks in nature, to people-watch, to sit and talk with a friend, to engage in sports, to see a play or a concert or a film, to draw, to take photographs, to join a dance class or a choir. The possibilities of healthy pleasurable pursuits are limitless.
When people have compulsive behaviors like using or drugs or alcohol that are or lead to illegal activities, there is help available. Often people need outside help to overcome their compulsive behaviors, but it is available. Large supportive communities exist to nurture people with these problems. Having the problem does not excuse one of responsibility for one’s actions.
In terms of obsessions, the individual is also responsible for his/her behavior. When I was a child my mother used to talk about people who claimed certain types of disabilities or patterns of behavior as having an “eingereteh zach” which I understood to be an issue that they convinced themselves into.
All of us have experienced inner dialogues that go something like this:
“I would like some ice cream, It sure would taste good. I think that mint chocolate chip would be delicious. Yes, that’s what I need. I sure would like it now. I really can’t wait. Yes, I think I’m going out to get it now.”
Sooner or later, that type of thought process leads to a store and some ice cream. But alas, they have chocolate and chocolate chip and strawberry, but no mint chocolate chip. Think about it enough and the quest is on. Until the mint chocolate chip ice cream is found, purchased, and eaten, there will be no peace.
Now let’s look at this logically: Ice cream is darned good food, but we don’t *have* to have it. If we allow it to be a stray thought, we can let it go and go on with our lives. But if we focus on it, it becomes an obsession.
I think that is true of some of the lifestyle changes people make that separate themselves from mainstream society. It is something that ranks a stray thought, but if one is a parent, after a short amount of consideration, it needs to be let go. And here is why:
Children, as I have said more than once or twice before, are people under construction. They are building their foundation, figuring out what their lives are going to look like, how they will fit into the environment. When a parent deviates from the norm, in general, it is the children who will be the most strongly affected. They become caught between the norms of society and their loyalty to their parents. The negative feedback they get from friends, teachers, neighbors about their parent’s lifestyle is something they are not equipped to defend and something they feel uncomfortable sharing with their parent. Children protect their parents from negative things and therefore they carry the burden of the societal displeasure on their shoulders.
When we have children we need to think about our choices and about how they will affect our children. Sometimes that means sacrificing something that seems like it would be fun. Sometimes that means giving up on a fantasy.
Remember, our children are our responsibility. They need to feel loved and secure and protected. They need us to put them first.
That was the seder that was
April 21, 2008 by
The setting:
A non-descript three-story building of Jerusalem stone facing a mountain that was planted with trees last summer and instead has as most of its vegetation ugly brown and green weeds, oh yes, and those sticks (some sporting leaves) that are suspended between other sticks that are holding them up.
The time:
Saturday night after the stars had come out and at a time when little children are usually snuggled in their beds.
The characters:
My oldest son and his friend and her daughter; my older daughter, her husband, and her 6 children ranging in age from 14 years to 6 weeks; my youngest son, his wife, and their 5 children, ranging in age from 10.5 to 1.5; my younger daughter, her husband and their 9 month old daughter; and our “adopted” children who made aliya last summer. If you were counting, you would have come up with approximately 12 adults and 13 children. Of those 13 children, 5 were 3 and under.
The room:
Imagine a room that can comfortably accommodate about 8 people sitting on sofas and chairs adjoining a room that can comfortably accommodate about 8 people sitting around a table and try to figure out how that space will accommodate 25 people eating. Yeah. Well, part of the preparations for Pesach included taking the living room furniture out to the glassed-in room behind the house, so we had a place for the little children to sleep and for moms to attend to their children.
Facts about grandchildren:
If there is any time of the year that they will get sick, it is that exact time when they are visiting your house. From nosebleeds to teething pain to earaches and general states of discomfort, our house seems to bring out the best in them.
The seder itself:
Well, like every other observant family, we too started our seder exceedingly late. This was after a day with 5 of the grandchildren staying with us and the stress of the logistics of the seder itself. Naturally, the children were tired and some of us adults were a bit stressed, but once the singing began and we heard the four questions and saw the smiling faces around the table, it actually was nice. I had lots of help serving and except for the under-done turkey (I think this was the largest turkey I ever attempted to cook) the food was pretty good. We decided that we need a wall-stretcher for next year or some other plan…
Special thanks:
To our son Ben for the beautiful story he told at the seder and the extremely delicious charoset.
To our daughter Rachel and her husband Ohad for the exquisite flower arrangement that looks as fresh today as it did when it was delivered and PERFECTLY matched the table settings.
To our son Akiva and his wife Nurit for the cool veggie chopper that I am certain my husband will cherish for as many years as the one he got in Wiesbaden before our younger daughter was born.
to our daughter Leah and her husband Yaakov for a Pesach food processor that made preparing for 25 people infinitely easier. I blessed them about a hundred times as I was making the kugels, the coleslaw etc.
To our wonderful guests who lent us their brute strength and object placement skills to help us move the furniture and who lent us the all important folding chairs.
and most of all to our brilliant, gorgeous, and delightful grandchildren who bring us no end of happiness. And a special thanks to Ayala whose questions kicked off all of the explanations.