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.

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….

Ten things you’ll never hear me say

Thanks, Kirby, for inviting us all to participate.

Here are my 10 in no particular order.

1. I sure do wish you would let that beard of yours grow longer and more bushy.

2. I so love cleaning house!

3. If you’re going to be serving ice cream, I’d rather not come.

4. Why are you having yet another child?

5. Going away? To where? No, sorry, I’d rather stay home.

6. It doesn’t matter how you act when you are away from home because no one you know will ever find out.

7. I regret staying home to raise my children.

8. My kids and I aren’t so close.

9. I’m moving back to the US.

10. Who wants to come shopping with me for some scarves to cover my face?

Sayings of the grownups

Here are some of the sayings I was raised with….

About shopping for better value items:
When you buy cheap, you have cheap.

After something you paid a lot of money for malfunctions or breaks:
What do you want for nothing?

About tickling- reflecting ambivalence:
Stop it; I like it.

About sibling battles:
He hit me back first.

Philosophy of family relations:
He’s mad; so he’ll get glad.

About love and marriage:
You should wait for the right man like K did.
(K’s husband divorced her a few years later and moved in with his male lover.)

(From a mother to her son– as reported by her son’s wife)
You can always get another wife, but you only have one mother.

And now two that are totally irrelevant to anyone living in Israel:

Table etiquette:
When you set the table, always remember serving pieces.
What are serving pieces?

You can’t wear white before Memorial Day or after Labor Day.
(our only white rule is YES! White for Yom Kippur!)

Please feel free to 1. guess who said each of these
2. add some sayings of the grownups of your own

From triLcat (Thank you! How could I have forgotten!!!!)
About yummy foods:
Did that piece of cake have a twin?

or
Do you know what this tastes like? It tastes like another one.

Watching words

It seems that there are people who in an attempt to be very honest and to be sure that they are not misleading people will state things in ways that cause uncertainty and discomfort. Someone I know, when asked to do someone a favor will reply “I’ll try to do it.” Now I don’t know about you, but I would much rather hear, “Yes, I’ll do it!” After all, most people understand that sometimes even with the best intentions, people are not able to do what they’ve committed themselves to doing. Someone who is going to “try” may be someone who will let you down, because he/she has not fully committed.

Let’s look at another way in which this “honesty” can create discomfort. You are taking a child to a new place or to have a new experience. The child is apprehensive. Here’s what NOT to say: “If everything works out well, you should have a nice time.” Say instead “I think you will love it!”

What we say really does change how people view things, whether it’s helping people feel more certain or enabling people to happily anticipate something new. All of us understand that sometimes things don’t work out the way we want them to, but there’s always time for correction or explanations later. If we try to prevent disappointment, no matter how small the risk, we are at the same time robbing people of a feeling of security and happy anticipation.

Remembering our first Hanuka

Our first Hanuka was a happy time. We had gotten married in July of 1966, honeymooned in Manhattan, seeing shows, enjoying the kosher restaurants, and then finally driving off to Kentucky where my husband was stationed. Once we found a home to rent, he went off each day to his job at Fort Knox and I drove in the opposite direction to finish my last year of college at the University of Louisville.

It was a happy life. I was twenty and the whole world was in front of me for the grabbing! I had survived my childhood with some of my ego intact, but this marriage was going to be something that I would help to create in a way that would nurture both of us.

We were, in a way, very alike. My husband had been the younger of two children. When he was 13, his 16 year old sister died of hepatitis. I had a sister who lived in Philadelphia. Aside from her, all we had were our parents. We were pretty much alone in the world.

Naturally, we wanted children. We wanted to fill our home with happy little voices. But I couldn’t believe that I would be lucky enough to be able to actually produce a child. My life hadn’t been charmed and I was kind of clumsy and awkward and never really trusted my body to know how to do the right thing. So, it was no surprise to me when one day in October I met my husband at the door with the two saddest words, “no baby.” It was only the first month we had tried, but it still hurt. I knew it would be the first of many many times.

So when my husband got the flu and then I did a few weeks later, I had no idea that there could be any good reason that my flu never really left. For days the nausea persisted and finally one Friday afternoon I went to a friend who was a doctor to ask him if he could give me some medication to get me through the weekend. He asked a lot of questions and responded that he thought I was probably pregnant. He told me that if nothing changed, I should go for a pregnancy test the following Wednesday.

This was in the olden days— before PCs, before cell phones, and worst of all, before home pregnancy tests. So early Wednesday morning, I took the specimen to the lab. I would have an answer after 3 in the afternoon.

At about 3:30 I was in my husband’s office and with a mix of excitement and apprehension I decided to call the clinic. The nurse looked for my results and said, “Your test was positive.” I said, “and that means?” and she said, “that you ARE!” and I said, “I am what?” Well, at this point she must have thought I was totally crazy, but it was good to hear from her the word “pregnant.”

My husband was teaching a Bar Mitzvah boy at the time, so it was only when he left that we had a chance to smile at our good news.

And then we drove home to light our first Hanuka candle together with hopes that next year we would be celebrating Hanuka with our much desired baby and from then on, we would never feel lonely again.

The small things

Sometimes it’s the small things that are the ones that bring you the most joy.

I am blessed that my two daughters both live within a 10 minute walk of my home. I am able to see them frequently, usually for a few minutes or an hour at a time, and that feels very comfortable to me.

I see my younger daughter usually a couple of times during the week and almost always at synagogue on shabbat. We have always been close. I see her baby enough to see the day by day changes as her awareness of the world grows. Now that she knows her name and consistently smiles when she sees me, I am working on teaching her to give a kiss. Just yesterday when I said the word “kiss” I saw her pucker up her lips!

I see my older daughter less. The busy working mother of 5, pregnant with her 6th, she barely has time for herself, let alone spare time to spend with me. We talk on the phone, I catch a few minutes here and there when I stop by to drop off or pick up something or someone, and I call to her as we pass her home on the way back from synagogue on shabbat. Usually she and her husband and at least the two little girls come out to their garden to greet us– her little girls with their happy smiling faces and their cheerful voices! Sometimes her older children come out too.

And there are, of course, the family events where all of my children gather. I really am blessed.

But yesterday I received a call from my older daughter and she had a morning free! We left Modi’in on a sunlit day and drove to Jerusalem and spent time walking together and looking in shop windows and having lunch. We talked about the past and the present and the future. How sweet it was! After all of the years of mothering and the years of worrying and seeing her through difficult times, yesterday was such a wonderful affirmation of our relationship. Beautiful (as she always has been), intelligent, accomplished, and possessing a grace and serenity, there was my daughter, there with me. We finished our meal and walked back to the car through the bustling Jerusalem streets.

It was a perfect day.

And when I got home, who was there but my younger daughter and her baby and our new “adopted” daughter! More happiness, more pleasant conversation, more exchanging of kindness and compassion.

Later, after they left, my husband said to me, “Would you like to go out to dinner?” And so we did. Again, it was lovely just sitting and talking and enjoying life.

It was a perfect day