Control

I have control issues.  I know that may come as a shock to those of you who know me (like my parents, who I think are the only ones who read this blog anyway...).  However, it is true.  I have control issues.  Just ask my parents.  Well.  You won't have to, because they will comment on this entry and confirm this. 

This past week has been a lesson from the powers that be that I am not in control of much and how to accept it gracefully.

I don't like to be confronted with my inability to control people, places and things.  Somewhere inside of me, I truly believe that if people would only listen to me and do exactly as I say, we all would be happier.  Both you AND me!!! 

It doesn't help that I am a Leo.  Once I read a description of a leo.  It said "You can always tell a Leo.  They will be the ones at a dinner party who tell the hostess that the food was good but would probably be better if they just did such and such.  And they will be right."  So even the stars say that I know better.  It's hard to fight against the stars...

So it's not my fault that I have control issues.

The other reason that I think that I have control issues, is because, in my opinion, both of  my parents have control issues.  They will deny this.  Watch.

Neither of my parents do very well working for other people.  They almost always come into conflict with other people at work, especially those who have authority over them.  They do best when they are self employed.

I have pretty much been self employed my whole life.  Except for a couple of stints working at restaurants.  Which never went over very well.  I was not a good waitress.  So, I always went back to my old stand by.  Childcare.  It is something I can do on my own and nobody tells me what to do through out the day.  It works for me. 

I think it is also one of the reasons I opted for stand up as opposed to acting.  In stand up, you are the writer, director, agent, producer, star. 

I gravitated toward what I am a natural for. 

Well, I am not so sure that the work thing is a problem with wanting to be in control or a problem with authority.  It could be either, it could be both.

Either way, my opinion is that it isn't my fault.  It is bad genes and being born under a bossy star sign. 

I can't help it.  I am bossy and controlling.  If you don't like it, too bad!

Bathing

I never thought that I would come to relish bathing as much as I have since I became a mother. 

For me, bathing is like cleaning the kitchen floor.  It gets done if I have the time and energy.  And I am pretty sure that my kitchen floor gets mopped more often than I take a shower. 

This past summer, we were between houses, as we had to leave our previous place at the end of June and our new place was only available on the first of August.  Since David's father had passed away in June, his house in Haifa was empty.  So we packed up the family and moved there.  David left shortly after for China together with Shmuel and I was a month alone in Haifa, with the girls.  Haifa has horrible weather.  Because it is on the water, it is humid as hell.  If one walks outside for two seconds, sweat develops and rolls down your body, like you are a human shower.  It is terrible.  I hate humidity. 

So there we were, in David's childhood home, which does not come equipped with a bathtub.  The only shower is stuck onto the wall of the bathroom and is not encased or separated from the rest of the bathroom.  At the end of the day, when I needed to give the girls a shower, I would get in with them and the three of us would shower together.  I realized after about a week, that it was probably the most I had showered in three years, since I gave birth to Chaya. 

Usually, at home, I get busy.  I go about my day, then the girls get a shower or bath, as does Shmuel and then by the time the three of them have been put in bed and then gotten up about 65 times for water, another story, pee, poo, a last minute snack and finally asleep, I collapse onto the sofa and have barely enough energy to make it to my bed.  So a shower, although seemingly a nice idea, is just that, a nice idea.  I don't have the energy left to walk another few steps and do what one needs to do in order to take a shower.

I really never thought that taking a shower would become a task where the amount of energy needed in order to do so would become too much for me. 

Add to that, that in Israel, the hot water is solar heated.  In the winter, in order to take a shower or bath, one must plan ahead.  It takes about an hour to heat up enough water for a good bath, so I favor taking a shower before dark in order to maximise the hot water.  However, taking a shower in the daytime, with small children is a juggling act.  I have gone days without a shower.  And then, all of a sudden, I raise my arms and think "Oh crap, I really need a shower."   Because, if you can smell your own body odor, it really means that you are a disgusting pig who needs to bathe. 

In Israel, however, body odor seems to be common.  Especially in the summer.  Because the heat is so atrocious, it is impossible not to sweat, humidity or desert, doesn't matter.  And no deoderant works well enough to prevent the odor.  Believe me, I know, I have tried.  As a result, in the summer, it is easy to get away with not taking a shower.  The winter, however, calls your bluff. 

Last night, I was in the shower and I thought, "Wow, this is so nice, to take a shower before bed.  I won't have to do it in the morning.  The house is quiet, the kids are sleeping and I am clean!  Good for me!!!"  My second thought was "That is so weird Amanda.  You shouldn't feel as if you have climbed Mount Everest just because you took a shower."  But I did.  I felt like I had secured peace between Israel and Palestine.  Accomplished this impossible but world changing feat. 

I almost called CNN, but my rational voice took over that said "You need to get out more darling."  So I settled for putting on clean pajamas and cuddling under my duvet and drifting off to sleep, dreaming that I had won the Nobel Peace Prize for being an advocate for cleanliness. 

One year old observations

I haven't had an inspiration as to a topic that I would like to blog about.  I am too tired at night to sit down and type away and too busy during the day taking care of children and cleaning the kitchen.  I sweep the floor in my kitchen about 35 times a day and do dishes about 70 times a day.  I had all these great plans when I thought of having a daycare in my home, as to what I would do with the kids, how to be creative and teach them all sorts of brilliant things, so that when they became a Nobel Peace Prize winner, they would credit me with giving them a head start in life.  But then I got all one year old kids and remembered that Obama won the Peace Prize last - for doing nothing.  So basically, the children arrive, they eat, we go out to play, they eat again, they sleep, then eat again, then we go out to pick up the older kids from preschool and we eat again and then we go outside to play again.  One year olds do nothing but eat and sleep and play outside.  The one time I tried to get them to color, they kept eating the crayons, so I completely ruled out painting after that.  I figure that the parents want their kids to come home healthy, so I now do what is in their children's ability at this time.  One year olds barely even play with toys.  They pick it up, look at it, taste it and then throw it on the ground.  I forgot about this.  Until now.  I was so confused as to what kind of toys I should get the girls when they were one, because they never really seemed interested in anything.  They really weren't.  They liked to go outside.  The world is a huge toy to them.  They like to see things, people, animals, swings, sand.  They don't give a rats ass about educational, Baby Einstein, Baby Freud crap.  Give them dirt to eat any day.  Then they are happy as clams. 

Anyway, dirt has protein.  I think.

A funeral

Last Thursday night, a great tragedy occurred. 

I came home after taking Chaya to ballet and went to the kitchen, where David was making food for the children.  I set my cell phone down on the counter.  When I came back to get get it, I realized that there had been water on the counter.  I don't remember what David was cooking, the details are hazy in my mind.  I wiped it off, but it had turned itself off.  I opened up the battery case and wiped the water away.  Still, no sign of life.  I took my phone upstairs and plugged it into the charger, thinking I could revive it. No sign of life.  I felt that if my phone just had a night of rest, then, perhaps then, it would have a fighting chance.  The next morning, I woke up and turned on my phone.  Oh joy, oh happiness, it worked!  I was so happy!!!  Until I realized that I couldn't make or receive calls.  It said "No Network".  I tried everything to bring it back to it's full power.  But nothing, no amount of CPR worked.  So today, I took it to the cellphone company, where my beloved cellphone was admitted to cellphone ER, and after an hour and a half, Dr. Phonedreamy pronounced it beyond repair.  There was no chance of survival as it had suffered from damage due to corrosion. 

I drowned my cellphone in less than a millimeter of water. 

Fortunately, I was able to receive a new cellphone and the financial damage isn't quite as extensive as I was afraid it would be, as I had cellphone life insurance.  It's not quite as complete as the one that I had to bury tonight, but I am sure that I will love this new phone, even though I may not love it AS much as I loved my old phone, but perhaps, in a different way.

I am not really sure why i loved the phone so much.  I have never been partial to a phone, let alone a cellphone before.  I only even got a cellphone for the first time in Israel last year.  And Israel is a cell phone country.  Most people have one, if not two phones at the same time.  Everywhere you go, when you are asked for your phone number, they mean your cell phone number.  And if you say that you don't have one, they are shocked.  The conversation will generally look something like this:

Service person: What is your pelephone (cell) number?

Me: I don't have one.

Service person: stares at me with mouth open as they try to digest this information.

After a long pause...No pelephone?  At all?

Me:  No, but I have a home number.

Service person:  What about your husband?  Does he have one? 

Israeli's just don't understand how you live without a cell phone.  When I lived in Ashdod, it was very simple.  I didn't have any friends.  No friends means no phone calls, so it was completely pointless to pay for a phone that no one was going to phone me on.  Then I moved to Tekoa.  After I got through the initial fear of doing the hitchiking thing, I realized that it would probably be a useful thing to own in the event that I unintentionally got into trouble.  So I got a phone.  And since I now have a few friends in Tekoa and actually leave the house everyday at least once, if not more, they can reach me wherever I am and whenever they want. 

AND, I have become proficient in text messaging.  I have a certain friend who lives in another city in Israel and when I have some odd thoughts, I text them to her so that she can have a comedy break in her day.  I won't give examples of those messages, as they shall remain private and are probably only funny to the two of us (gotta love in jokes...). 

The other reason that I loved my cell phone, was because when I was buying it and we were checking for available numbers, the girl asked me what my home phone number was.  I told her and she did a check and almost had a heart attack when she found that I could have my home number as a cell phone number.  She told me she had never successfully been able to do that!  So I feel special.  Like me and this phone were meant to be.  We were besherte. (Besherte = soul mates)

And although I have the new one, that is EXACTLY the same as the old one, I know that there is a difference.  You may not, but I do.

Bye bye old cellphone.  We had a good life together.  May you rest in peace.

Thoughts on Motherhood

I have been contemplating the reasons that people have for procreating.  I know that in Judaism, it is a Torah commandment.  At least for men.  So there is certainly the religious aspect.  But what about for those who are not religious?  Is "be fruitful and multiply" really a valid reason for them, since they don't believe in religion anyway?

My Dad thinks that people who don't have children are selfish, but I think that people who have children for the wrong reasons are selfish.  But then again, I haven't fully defined what I think the right reasons are.  I know that I think that having children just as an extension of yourself is what I would consider a wrong reason.  Perhaps carrying on your blood line is a right reason.  If you like your bloodline, that is.

I know some people who don't have children yet.  And who have expressed a desire to have children.  But I am not sure that anyone who doesn't have children can fully understand what they are getting themselves into.

I find that it is increasingly difficult to describe exactly what it feels like to BE pregnant.  I wasn't one of those overall wearing, wheatgrass drinking glowing mother's to be.  I was tired and cranky and angry with the world.  I do, however, recognize, that I was suffering a lot of external stress that took away from the joy of pregnancy. 

I do remember thinking, though, after Chaya's birth "Why didn't anyone tell me it was going to be like that?"  I felt like all the women who had birthed a child were in on a conspiracy.  It was like they would only tell the good parts and leave out all the gross parts, because if they described them everything in detail, no woman would ever consciously CHOOSE to have a baby.  At least not through natural childbirth.  C section, perhaps.  I hear the recovery time is difficult, but an elected c section might be preferable.  AND you get a few more days in the hospital, with a nursery to take care of your baby when you want to sleep and food cooked for you. 

I remember with Chaya, that the 3 days in the hospital  (which you get in Israel) seemed like a holiday to me.  I felt like I was in a hotel and I was a little sad to leave.  I figured that is why the ultra religious women have a baby every year or so, because they get an all expense paid stay in a hospital for three days.  So they have to push a baby through their vagina - no pain, no gain, right?

To be truthful, I can't even tell you what childbirth is like, 3 years on.  I have forgotten.  I remember it was intense and painful, but it is such a traumatic experience, I think we women block it out.  Because, again, if we remembered it, we would never do it again.  I do know that I was devastated when I found out I was pregnant again, 3 months after giving birth to Chaya.  I hadn't forgotten the pain of her birth yet, so I remember being furious at David.  Basically, I went to sleep breastfeeding and woke up pregnant.  I am still not exactly sure how it happened. 

Then the baby comes home.  All of your energy is spent feeding this baby, changing it's diaper and trying to catch up on the sleep that you aren't getting.  Day 3 after birth, you spend the whole day crying, but not exactly sure why you feel like crying.  I cried after a nurse at the hospital asked me why I didn't speak Hebrew.  For some reason, this was absolutely devastating for me.  Day 7 it comes back, but now, you are a week without sleep, so you are not only feeling like crying, but you are pissed off at anyone or anything that crosses your path.  David forgot to bring a baby seat for the car and I was meeting him later, with the intention of walking to where we were going with the baby.  But because he forgot the car seat, when he came back to pick it up, I threw the phone at him.  Day 30 is another big day.  Now, you are just plain in a rage, because it is now 30 days without more than 2 hours sleep in row.  Now you just want to kill someone and I believe divorce was on the table for me at that point.  I do believe that if I had had a car, I would have left David.  But you can't go far with a baby in a stroller...

As time goes on, baby starts sleeping longer and you eventually start to feel rested.  But your life is now changed forever.  There is always someone there, demanding something from you.  Every single time I sit down, it seems that my children need something.  And when a child needs something, they want it NOW!!!  So even if you say, I will do it in a second, they repeat what they want over and over and over again until you actually do it.

This morning, I set my alarm for 6 am, thinking that I would take at least half an hour of alone time.  But my children seem to have a sixth sense for when mommy wants alone time (see mommy sits down, above) and wake up with me.  And then it's hard to be resentful of them for horning in on your alone time when they smile at you with their amazing smiles and say "Mornin' mommy!  I waked up!!!" 

I realize that I am probably going to have to wake up at 4 in the morning, just to get 30 seconds of alone time.  Awake.  So, right now, for some reason, I seem to have to go to the bathroom a lot in the night and I can't tell you how much I am enjoying the stillness of the night as I walk blind eyed to the bathroom. 

And then there is your "relationship" with your husband.  Sarah is a Daddy's girl.  Everytime I even attempt to hug him, she horns her way in there and takes over.  He is unequivocally hers.  In order to be even remotely affectionate with him, I have to wait until the girls aren't looking and do it quickly.  I feel like I am 14 again, and don't want my parents to know that I have a boyfriend...

What you learn fast, though, as a parent, is that life is no longer about you.  One of the hardest things that I find that my friends with children have, is the dilemma of keeping their own identities.  Feeling like one is not just a milking machine, but also keeping you in your life.  I mean, it's one thing to read these articles about keeping the romance in your life, within your marriage, but holy cow, keeping you in you????  Feeling like a woman when you have been walking around all day smelling of baby puke and poo because you pulled on yesterday's clothes when you were too tired to create another outfit?

If I find time to myself in a day, it is a miracle.  I don't have family close by and not a lot of options for calling other's to take over my kids.  So trying to find time alone with my husband is just as impossible.  I have compromised.  I take time to myself on Fridays, for a couple of hours.  And if I can during the day, I do.  When the kids are sleeping and I have either finished or am ignoring my household chores.  But time with my husband is something we are still trying to figure out.  I have heard that there are couples who try to have date night once a month.  That's pretty cool.  David and I went out for dinner last week.  That was nice. 

I teach my kids this: Sharing is caring.  That's what having kids has taught me.  Sharing is Caring.  That and caffeine is my friend...

Sister Wives

I have been thinking a lot about this whole idea of plural marriage lately.  Well, for the last two years, really, since I started watching the show "Big Love".  I heard that there is a new reality show in America, featuring a family with multiple wives in it.  Called, of course, Sister Wives.

I liked the show Big Love.  It was like those women always had someone to back them up and that their Sister wives were their best friends.

We had a guest for shabbos, who was telling us about a family in her neighborhood who are in a plural marriage.  She was saying that the women were the ones who recruited the new wives for their husband.  There are currently something like 9 wives although at the time, it was just 5 wives.  They wanted this woman to be wife number 6.  She couldn't understand what the women had to gain from recruiting new wives.

I can tell you exactly.

At this point in time, what I really need more than anything, is a wife.  I need someone to help with the cooking and the cleaning, the childcare, the shopping, someone to prepare me a bath when I am tired.  Someone to understand when I am tired, or have PMS or on my period.  I need a wife.

Many people complain loudly that it is so sexist that it is always the men's right to have more than one wife. 

But I know why. 

The fact is, that men are a lot of work.  Pretty much more work than one woman can handle.  We need help.  Especially in today's world, where we are expected to work, maintain a house, birth children, breastfeed them and then take on most of the responsibility of their daily lives until they leave the house or we die.  I think that we, as women, have bitten off more than we can chew.  So since we are expected to do the work of the traditional man, in addition to the work of a traditional woman, we should also be allowed the option of taking a wife.  I am telling you, life would be a lot easier if we could share the responsibility. 

If I were to choose a wife, I would get one who could cook, clean, hang and fold laundry, take care of my kids.  That would free up a lot of my time.  In fact, I could, as first wife, make her work in addition to everything else, freeing up my time to pursue any whim that I had at that moment. 

It sounds heavenly to me. 

But can you imagine the other way around?  A woman with more than one husband?  If my husband were in the government, there would never be unemployment, because he is a make work project.  My house can be perfectly clean, even after a full day of having a daycare in my house, but seconds after he enters the house, it looks like a cyclone hit.  And he doesn't even seem to notice that he has left his sock in the hallway or his underwear balled up in the corner of the living room (why he takes them off there, I have no idea).  They can stay there for weeks and he won't notice (I know this, as I have tested this theory).  Can you imagine having to have two of these?  In addition to your children and full time job?  It would kill you. 

I, as a woman, am happy that there is no culture or religion that I am aware of where a woman can have multiple husbands.  We don't need it.  It is detrimental to our health. 

What we do need, though, is a wife.  Or four.

Ballet

When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a ballet dancer.  Probably most little girls had the same dream.  So, I bugged my mother until she enrolled me in ballet class.  Mrs. Lecky's school of dance.  It was Saturday mornings, in the basement of an office complex.  I must have been about 6 or 7 years old.  The problem was, that my mother and stepfather used to like to sleep in on Saturday mornings, so I often missed my class.   Ballet just wasn't all I thought it would be - tutu's and buns and beauty.

I was obsessed with princesses when I was a little girl.  I loved the Fairy Tales.  Cinderella was always my favorite.  Something about the overworked and underloved little girl, suddenly turning into the most beautiful girl in the kingdom, being chosen by the handsome Prince, over all other's. 

I think I just wanted to feel special and special was not something I felt.

So I quit ballet and moved on to Jazz dancing.  It was in the afternoons in the middle of the week, so the only way that I could get there was to go by myself, since my mother and stepfather were working at that hour.  I took public transit to get myself to class and then used to stand around with the other girls while they waited for their mother's to come and pick them up.  I used to pretend that my mother was coming too.  I longed for the kind of mother that spent all of her time devoted to me and my siblings.  The kind of mother that served a warm plate of chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk after school.  That baked her own bread and did my hair in intricate hairstyles each morning before school.  Who dropped me off and picked me up at school.

My mother didn't have that luxury.  She worked long hours and was so tired when she came home that all she could do was plant herself in front of the television to watch the news and/or sleep.

I knew from an early age that when I had kids, it was most important to me to be there with them.  I wanted them to have what I didn't have.  A stay at home mom, the Beaver Cleaver mommy.

I am not a Beaver Cleaver mommy and I am far from the kind of mother I envisioned for myself, but, every once in awhile, I do things that are Beaver Cleaver mommy like.

Today, I took Chaya to her very first Ballet Class.  She told me on the way "Ballet is scary.  And if I want to cry, then I just cry."  I explained to her that she didn't have to stay at the ballet class and that if she didn't like it, we would just go home, but also that I would be there, in the room with her the whole time.  Chaya is much younger than I was when I went to my first dance class, but I think I would have liked to have known that my mother was outside waiting for me.  She told her sister, father and brother before we left that she was going to ballet to be pretty.

When the class started, she didn't want to go by herself to the group, so I went with her and after about 5 minutes, I sat down on the sidelines and watched my little girl.  She has the added disadvantage that she is not perfectly fluent in Hebrew, but she watched the others and did the best that she could.  And when the teacher complimented her, she beamed a smile so bright, it could light up the sky in the darkest night.  She did wonderfully.

Is my daughter a future ballerina?  I don't know and I don't care.  I just want her to have this experience.  I want her to be exposed to things from a young age that I always wished that I had had the opportunity to be.

The most beautiful part of it, was watching my daughter walk through her fear and come away with a beatific smile and a happiness that is beyond what any toy from Toys R Us could give her.

I was, and still am, 5 hours later, the proudest mother in the universe.  I have so far, raised a little girl who is happy, beautiful and smart.  A little girl who knows that her mommy is there for her.  Who loves her beyond words.

But I still think she has the potential to be the lead dancer in the most famous ballet company in the world, whatever that may be...I guess I better Internet research it.  And learn what a port au bras is.

Airports

I love airports.  I get butterflies every time I go to one.  It doesn't matter if I am leaving on a trip or just picking someone up.  I always have the same nervous "Will I get there in time?  Will the flight be on time?  Will I see someone famous?"  I have never seen anyone famous, at an airport or otherwise.  Well, that's not true.  Yick, from Degrassi Junior High, used to be the bartender at the bar I frequented in my 20's. 

Last week, I went to pick up my friend Jenn at the airport.  Ben Gurion airport is an experience.  I arrived at the time the plane was due to land and waited an hour and a half for my friend to deplane, get through customs and immigration and collect her luggage. 

I was so full of excitement I felt like I was going to pee my pants.  Although I think that that had more to do with the fact that I really had to pee but was afraid to use the bathroom in case I missed her exit from the arrivals gate. 

There were hundreds of people arriving.  In an hour and a half.  Hundreds.  And Ben Gurion is an incredible place to watch people arrive.  You have Orthodox Jews, with their black hats and coats, arriving together with their wives and large families, children clinging to their mother's, babies screaming.  You have large tour groups with strange things attached to their clothes, signifying that they belong to the Texas Holyland tours, or some such group.  Camera's slung around their necks as they arrive and stare mercilessly at the Black Hat Jews around them.  Peering as discreetly as they can at the women with colorful scarves on their heads.  Priests and Nuns with their collars and Habits.  Muslims.  It's a truly international crowd.

I saw a family enter the airport from the arrivals gate, with two small children, when suddenly two women in their late 20's went racing towards them, screaming, clutching bouquets of balloons.  The children suddenly grabbed their mother's leg, unsure of what to do with these crazy, screaming women.  I watched this and was overcome with laughter and tears.

Thoughts of visiting my family flooded me.  I imagined my own girls clinging to me as my sisters and mother ran towards me.  But my family doesn't do things like that.  We are more reserved. 

Husbands and wives deplaning, being met by their spouses. 

Watching these reunions, it made me think "I wish my husband was a travelling salesmen or something where he had to travel for work.  We would see each other once a month and I would meet him at the airport, where we would rush into each other's arms and be so happy to see one another.  If he was never home, we would have a great marriage."

I love airports.

Mahane Yehuda

Mahane Yehuda is a huge market in Jerusalem.  I have lived in Israel for almost 5 years, in February and the first time that I came here was about a month ago.  I have really not seen the tourist sites in Jerusalem.  Jenn's sister in laws boyfriend (do you follow that?) kept asking if I had seen this or that place in Israel and I kept saying no.  It's so sad that there is this beautiful country and I haven't seen much of it.  So filled with history and I have bypassed most of it. 

Today I had booked someone to take care of my daycare for Jenn's visit, but Jenn has travelled north and left yesterday during shabbat, so it was not possible for me to accompany them.  Plus, I didn't want to take too many days off of work - it costs me money!!! 

So today, I find myself in Jerusalem, at the shuk (market) sitting having a coffee.  David has gone to sort out some things at a governmental office and I considered doing some shopping, but I don't want to carry around bags and stuff, plus, I needed to eat and have a coffee.  So I will wait for a bit to see how long it will take him and then at 12 I have to be somewhere. 

The shuk is amazing.  There are people strolling all over, tourists and Israeli's alike.

Here you can pick up good deals.  Fruits and vegetables tend to be much cheaper here and you can pick up bargains on clothes as well.  I am wearing a Mahane Yehuda special, in fact, that I picked up last week, when I was here with Jenn.

Nail Polish

I bet you thought that I was on a roll and then lost interest in the blog and you would have to wait another 3 years for my next entry.

Fooled you!

My friend came to visit from Canada and I got caught up in the whirlwind tour of Israel.  She arrived on Sunday afternoon, after having had a two day delay in getting here.  We jetted off (well, more like bussed off) to the Dead Sea.  I brought my computer, with the intention of blogging while I was there, but time to myself got away from me. 

We arrived at the Dead Sea on Tuesday afternoon, after having spent Monday morning playing in the park here in Tekoa with the kids and then doing an afternoon trip to the Mahane Yehuda Market in Jerusalem.  I introduced her to the art of hitchhiking out to the settlements, which is our preferred method of transportation, for us "settlers".  The bus only comes every two or three hours, so it is faster to hitchhike.  We had a bit of a hard time getting a ride back, since we were travelling with her baby.  People didn't want to take the chance of travelling with a baby and we finally found someone who had a baby seat, willing to take her and her baby.  The driver didn't have room for me, as she was waiting on her brother and his girlfriend, but luckily I found a ride immediately and actually ended up getting to Tekoa first.  We had made a plan to meet at the hitchhikers post in Tekoa and I sat down to wait for her.  All of a sudden I got nervous, trying to think back to the woman who picked her up, what she looked like, what her Hebrew sounded like, did she have an accent, etc.  As I sat waiting for her, I started imagining the worst.  I imagined myself calling my husband, saying "I lost Jenn!"  It was terrible.  But she arrived safe and sound and actually got a ride all the way to my house, whizzing past me at the hitchhikers post.

She got a good taste of public transportation here, though.  The bus ride to the Dead Sea took two hours and we went through all of the tourist spots. 

On Wednesday morning she decided to hike up Massada with her sister in law and sister in law's boyfriend, along with her baby.  I declined this opportunity.  The way I figured it was like this:  I was on holiday.  Hiking up a mountain sounded suspiciously like exercise.  And exercise is work.  And I was on holiday.  If it involved exertion on my part, I wasn't doing it.  So I stayed back. 

Instead I went to the spa. 

Mmmm....

Alone. 

I opted for a facial and much needed pedicure. 

The facial was nice, but the pedicure was heavenly.  It has been 4 years since I have had a professional pedicure.  My feet were in terrible condition.  4 years of running around after small children had taken a toll.  And I have the bad habit of picking my nails, both on my feet and hands.  Somehow, in the last week or so, my nails have started to grow and I have restrained myself from picking them and managed to grow a little white area where there is supposed to be a white area on your nail. 

I feel triumphant.

After almost 12 hours of being on holiday without my children, I was starting to feel like "me" again.  Like a person independent of being a mother, or even a wife, for that matter.  But here is the thing.  A mother can go on vacation, but she is always a mother.  How do I know this?  Because when the Esthetician asked me which color I wanted to paint my nails, I looked at the bottles, sitting in the box so nicely and thought, "Which color would my girls think is the most fun?"  I picked a metallic purple. 

And you know what?  It was the most fun.  Normally I would go for a staid red or light pink, but I decided to be adventurous, for the sake of my children!!!

Even on holiday, I was thinking of them....

Of course, it wasn't until the last morning there, that I started to miss them.  It was nice to be away from them for a couple of days.  To have my breakfast, lunch and dinner made for me, to not have to do laundry or make a bed (not that I make the beds at home, this is a defect of mine that I am working on...).  On the last morning there, however, I was watching my friend play with her son and thought, I miss my girls' hugs.  I can't wait to see them!

They were asleep when I got home, but Friday morning, when Chaya woke up, she saw me and gave me a HUGE smile and said "You came back!".  I am still her favorite. 

It was all worth it!

Laryngitis, Post nasal drip, throat infection and pinworms

The holidays are over. 

And what do I have to show for it?  A refrigerator that resembles a drug store. 

All the kids have been sick over the last week.  And all with something different. 

Emil had laryngitis.  This was by far the most pleasant of all the illnesses.  Parents, if you are going to wish for any illness for your child, laryngitis is by far the most pleasant.  Because...your child can't talk.  Or cry.  Or whine or yell or scream or tell you what a horrible parent you are or make those antagonizing sounds that let you know that you, as a parent, are a complete failure at your job. 

Laryngitis is simply nature's way of giving you, the parent, a holiday. 

I only wish, that next time, all my children will have it at the same time.  Oh the quiet I would relish!!!

Sarah was the next one up.  I took her to the doctor because her tongue was white and she had been waking up in the middle of the night, coughing as if she couldn't breathe and her breath smelled putrid.  As she is prone to thrush, I took her to the doctor, who informed me that she has post nasal drip and is now taking an antihistamine twice a day.  Not bad, since the antihistamine makes her sleepy.

Quiet...

Next up, Chaya had a fever and was incredibly grumpy, throwing tantrums every five minutes.  I gave her some Tylenol and she woke up the next morning fever free, but complaining that her "bum hurt".  So, I did what any mother would do in this situation and armed myself with wipes, thinking that perhaps she just needed a better butt wiping.  I made her go into downward dog (our preferred wiping position) and opened it up, at which point I saw a little white thread like thing desperately trying to wiggle it's way back toward her anus.  I went to war with this little worm and while it was fast, I do believe that I fought the worm and I won. 

I then proceeded to freak out, as I had a friend coming with her two children for a visit.  What do I do?  Do I warn her that my kid has worms?  And the doctor had already been on the yishuv and I didn't know if the nurse would be in and since it was the day before Simchat Torah, I wasn't sure if the doctor would be back and how was I going to get the worm killing medicine.  Fortunately, the doctor has a pager, which I used and he directed me to the nurse, who was in the office that evening and I was able to start Chaya on a round of Vormex.  It's probably called in English, Wormex.  I did inform my friend and although she has only been in Israel 3 years, she was thoroughly blase about the whole thing. 

Blase about the whole worm thing.  Very typical Israeli attitude, while those of us from North America freak out about things like pin worms and lice, Israeli's just say "Ahh...worms, don't worry about it, they come from the sand.  Nothing you can do about it.  Get used to it."

I just don't get it.  And the blase attitude, quite frankly, pisses me off.  Do you know how much extra work it creates for me?  Worms and lice both entail a good, thorough cleaning.  Of both children and house.  It means washing sheets, blankets, pillows, pillow cases, toys, stuffed toys, vacuuming couches.  Like I don't have better things to do with my time than clean? 

And here's the thing that really pisses me off.  There is no policy within the schools that says if your child has a communicable condition, they must be kept home from school, because, get this....IT'S ILLEGAL to make such a policy!!!  Seriously.  ILLEGAL.

A lot of people in my yishuv don't like to use the pesticide sprays on their kids' hair when they have lice.  They prefer the natural tea tree oil and combing it out cure.  They don't like to use the medicine for worms, they prefer to go for a "tipul" (treatment) from a naturopath. 

I am all for naturopathic treatment, if that is what you choose to do.  Go for it.  Tea tree yourself out.  BUT DON'T SEND YOUR KID TO SCHOOL UNTIL THE CONDITION IS GONE!!!!  WHY SHOULD ME AND MY KID HAVE TO SUFFER TOO?  I've got news for all of you natural medicine, whole wheat eating, brown sugar toting mom's out there.  MISERY DOES NOT LOVE COMPANY!!!!  We are not going to start a My kid has lice, who wants to get together and compare natural lice removal methods support group while our kids are at school infecting each other. 

All I want is a pest free household.  Is that too much to ask?

And by the way, to the mother's in Chaya's school, you owe me 100 shekels.

3 years and two kids later...

Here it is, 3 years later and I can't believe this blog hasn't been deleted, by the "powers that be" out in blogland.  I never closed this blog, because I had the intention of going back and printing out the entries, since they chronicle my pregnancy with Chaya and her first months here on earth.  But I never got around to it.

"Not getting around to it" has spawned my new favorite saying, "I'll get there".  After Sarah was born, I couldn't understand why I couldn't get to everything.  Two young children make life chaotic.  The first year of Sarah's life, it was like I was doing a juggling act.  Babies wake up, put the smallest one to sleep, just as she wakes up, the other one needs to sleep, she wakes up, the little one goes back to sleep.  We barely left the house in her first year.  And I was EXHAUSTED!!! 

Now that they are 2 and 3, along with Emil, who is 9, my mantra is just that: "I'll get there".  Sometimes I do and sometimes I don't. 

Usually, if I don't, it is because I have forgotten to write it down. 

I have never been a big list person.  Lists are for organized people.  I like organized people.  A lot.  I find them an interesting species.  They make all these lists and actually do the things on the lists and cross them off.  Sometimes I make lists of the things I did yesterday, then make a big checkmark next to them and hang them on the fridge.  That way I feel like an organized person.  And when people come over, they think "Wow!  She's really organized.  I feel so inadequate next to her." 

My husband thinks that I am organized.  Because I am, compared to him.  Yesterday, he asked me if I had seen his belt.  He asked me this the day before as well.  "No, I haven't seen your belt honey, just like I didn't see it yesterday either.  But if you took it off and put it in your closet,instead of some strange place like next to the tv, you would probably be able to find it today."

Needless to say, he didn't like that answer. 

So, compared to him, I am organized.  I put my dirty clothes in a pile on the floor in our room and then when it bothers me enough, I "get there" and bring it downstairs to the dirty clothes hamper next to the washing machine.

That reminds me.

Things to do:

Bring clothes to the hamper on my next trip downstairs. 

Welcome back to my blog!

Amanda

Addiction and Ignorance.

I like to read Canada.com to keep up with what is going on in my hometown of Vancouver. Today there is a report of yet another gangland shooting. I read the comments section. The consensus is overwhelming. Change the immigration policy and bring back the death penalty. Like that is going to stop drug trafficking. Has it worked in the states? I think not. The people in prisons there are animals. I know this first hand from hearing my husband's stories about his time in state institutions. People still think that addiction is the result of immorality. Why don't we look at it for what it is? A disease. Not a choice. Prohibition isn't working. It didn't work in the US either. Do we want to fix the problem? Fix the source. And the source is not the drug suppliers. The source is the family. We live in a world where instant gratification is abundant. Hungry now? Go to McDonald's. In five minutes, you can eat your burger and fries. Plus, then mommy and daddy have spent quality time together as the children gobble down their food and run off to play in Mcplayland. What happened to family dinners? This is a holiday ritual now. How many hours a week do parents actually spend with their kids? Come home from work, pick the children up at daycare, where they have spent the last 10 hours, home by 5, plunk children in front of TV or playstation, or drive them to extra language lessons, karate, soccer, ballet, genius classes, home again by 6:30, fast dinner, then tv or playstation till 7:30 8, then bed. So how much time are parent's actually spending with their parents? How many people are actually involved in their children's lives? Be the best, be the best, this is their refrain. Get the best marks, be the best athlete, ballerina, genius. Pressure pressure pressure. Grow up, go to university, get a degree in something practical, make a lot of money, so you too can live in a 900 000 dollar one bedroom condo in Vancouver. Or....grow up, mediocre, never have the ability to go to university, either because you don't have the grades or you can't afford it because your parent(s) were "welfare bums" who spent most of their time worrying about how they were going to feed you (This is not so different from people who make good money, but their expenses end up being greater as they have more)and as a result aren't there for you emotionally, so you grow up thinking, I will never be like my parents, I want a different life for my children, but what can I do? I have no education and working at Wal Mart isn't going to let me feed my children or buy overpriced property so why should I bother? Yes, drug dealing is dangerous, but it pays well if I am good at it. And, I can make 100 000 dollars in a day! What would you choose?
8 bucks an hour to work at Wal Mart, or 100 000 dollars working one day a week?
Money money money. Money is the higher power. Let's get back to the family. Better social programs, equal opportunity education, help for single parents, stop cutting these programs. Model it after the scandinavian countries who always rank in the top for standard of living. Why continue to strive to be America? It is not the land of opportunity. Not anymore.

On to other things. Chaya is back asleep. I had a brief break in this blog as she woke up and the poor little thing is miserable. She is getting a tooth and her little nose is all stuffy and she is whiny whiny whiny. Poor thing. But I can't believe how much she has grown! In the last three weeks she has started to pull herself up to standing holding onto something, started crawling, sitting by herself and now she has a tooth! It goes so darn fast! I am glad that I can be here to watch it though, daily.
She really is amazing and it is so strange to think that this thing came out of my body. I can't believe that in 5 months, I will be experiencing all of this all over again with my new baby girl.
David was so funny at the ultrasound. When the doctor said that we were having another girl, I looked at David and said "What's the matter with you? You can't make boys?" But secretly I was hoping for a girl. All right, not so secretly, I told everyone I wanted a girl. When we got outside, David said "So now we have to try for a boy!" I was like "This one isn't even out yet, are you insane?" It is especially funny, as this is the same man who told me when we first met "We Malul's only bring boys!" Hmmm. Guess not this Malul! One son so far...two girls...Finally the women will outnumber the boys. I know the reason too. I have a theory that you get the sex that you have the most trouble with, as a way of working through your issues. David has issues with women...therefore girls. Maybe I also have issues still with women. Hence the girls.

I had other ideas for blogging, but I can't remember them now, so when I do, I will try to get them down. I am neglecting house duties in order to write this, but it felt good to get it down yesterday.

I must do what I can now in order to get the house in shape before Emil comes home now. It is windy and chilly here today, after two days of scorching hot weather. A break.

Running Errands the Israeli way!

It is 8:40 am and there is quiet in the house. Chaya is asleep, Emil is at school and David is at work. For days I have been wanting to blog, but haven't found the quiet, solitude or energy to do so. Either I am preoccupied with household tasks or tired out from doing household tasks. It is a much different life than I had pre children and pre marriage.
I have to admit, sometimes I long for a week away at a hotel, alone with myself, my thoughts and my feelings. David said awhile ago, that if he got a bunch of money he would make sure that I would take some to do whatever I wanted with it, buy new clothes, go for a mani and pedi, etc. I laughed and said, What I would really like is a week away in Eilat, alone to sleep for a week. It wasn't so long ago that I was complaining about how bored I was, with nothing to do and no one to talk to. This proves that we don't know what we've got till it's gone!

Life here continues to be difficult for us. It seems that it is always one thing or another. What is life like here in Israel? I will try to paint you a picture of what my day was like on Sunday.

When I came to Israel, I was in such a hurry to start at an ulpan to learn Hebrew, so that I could learn the language and also get out and meet people. But I couldn't do that until I was a citizen of Israel. At the Interior Ministry, where they deal with immigration, they expedited my request and in so doing, they gave me my status before I actually was a citizen of Israel. So on my Israeli ID, it didn't state my citizenship. Off I went to ulpan, and taking advantage of the opportunities afforded to a new immigrant here, under the Law of Return. I had no idea that they hadn't put Israeli on my ID. I had full rights, received the new immigrant stipend and was able to register for a health fund. I did all my prenatal care paid for by my health fund and there was no problem. However, in Israel, when you go to the hospital, it is Biteuach Leumi who takes care of hospital bills. Biteuach Leumi is basically National Insurance, which covers welfare, children's allowance, hospital stays etc etc. So when I went to the hospital, they saw no citizenship on my ID card and thought that I was a private case and a month after giving birth to Chaya, we were sent a bill for approximately 2000 dollars. We were shocked but went to Biteuach Leumi who said that they would fix it. At least I am pretty sure that is what happened, as David dealt with it and sometimes his memory is not so reliable. About two weeks ago I received a collections letter from the hospital for this money. Needless to say, I was shocked and also furious, as this meant a trip to the National Insurance office, which is never a simple straightforward thing. On Sunday, off I went, with Chaya in tow, the stroller packed to the brim with diapers and bottle and toys and papers that I needed. I got to the office, bright and early, as I find when dealing with the government agencies, it is usually better to go first thing in the morning, as it is less crowded then. I arrived there and first thing you must do is go to a counter to get a number and be told what booth to wait in front of. I gave them the papers and said in my broken Hebrew "I need this" They looked at me like I was an alien and didn't know what to do. Do I speak Russian? No. English. English, oh no, that's a problem. A problem? To speak English in a government agency? How surprising! Finally she gave me a number and I went to the line up. I was optimistic, as the line wasn't that long and I thought, hey, maybe it won't be as complicated as I think! WRONG! Why haven't I learned yet, that in Israel, nothing is NOT complicated. The girl working didn't seem to understand what I wanted, even though I gave her the papers and in a mix of Hebrew and English, explained to her the situation. She phoned her superior who said that I needed to get another paper from the hospital that said How long I had stayed there. I am like, "Who cares, how long I was there, pay the bill!" In the meantime, I phoned David to tell him that they wanted another paper and he was all like "OK, so that is what we do!" And I responded with "OH NO WE WILL NOT! I AM NOT LEAVING HERE TILL THEY FIX IT!" David said "OK Even better!" She directed me towards another lady who also was confused as to how to help me and couldn't figure it out, then asked if I spoke French, which normally I do, but by this time, I was furious, my patience having been quickly eroded and I couldn't get out what I needed in French, so in a mixture of French, Hebrew and English, I yelled "All you need to do is pay the bill! It is your responsibility to pay for it, so pay it! Why should I have to worry about 2000 dollars? Just pay the damn bill!" Finally, I was directed towards the manager, where I had to wait in line for half an hour to see him and then he told me not to worry, that he would take care of it and that I could just go home. This was an hour and a half later. Which in the long run, is not too bad, considering, I could have been there all morning!
I guess the thing that gets me about going to any of these agencies, the post office, the bank, any ministry, is simply because no one seems to ever have any idea what they are doing. No one ever leaves with a smile. I swear, I didn't see one person at the National Insurance leave happy. Everyone is yelling and screaming. On the one hand, I feel sorry for the employees of these places, as it is a super hard job, here, dealing with the Israeli public, but on the other hand, everytime you go to them with something it is like the automatic response is "No." They really need to watch Bob The Builder. "Can we fix it? YES WE CAN!" Someone should create a workshop for them. Or the little engine that could "I think I can I think I can I think I can." Seriously, no one seems to be properly trained and no one can speak enough English either. At least here in Ashdod. This has been a major thorn in my side since I have lived here, there are russians, in fact they have a russian translator at the office, and several people who speak fluent french, but English? Nope. And it doesn't make sense, they learn it in School, it is all over tv, they listen to american music...I am just glad I am not a manadarin speaker living in Israel. Baruch Hashem for that.

So after that experience, I decided to brave another office, my health fund's office, as I needed to be reimbursed for two tests that I took for this pregnancy. This was another source of fear for me, as every time I have braved it on my own there, it has been a disaster. But since I was on an errand roll, I decided to do it. Off I went, hoping and praying that the mean Russian woman who I had encountered my first times there and always seemed to end up getting after waiting my turn in line and who nearly gave me a nervous breakdown on many occasion, wouldn't be there. In fact, one time, she basically threw my documents at me and refused to speak to me anymore and I left bawling my eyes out and ended up calling David and screaming at him for not coming with me. This was when I first arrived here. He did end up coming with me and ended up yelling at her for being so mean to me. Well, I arrived at Maccabi Health Fund, prepared for the wait and played with Chaya, who had been so patient and well behaved. I felt the anxiety mount, but I noticed with relief that Miss meany mcrussian wasn't there, so that relieved some apprehension. But then, there is the language barrier. Fortunately the lady who helped me spoke the same amount of English as I do Hebrew so we were able to figure out what I needed and it WAS actually straightforward and finished in two minutes and she was very kind and helpful. I left feeling a little more calm than I had when I walked in!

Then it was off to do some grocery shopping, as I have also figured out that if I go grocery shopping on Sunday, it is very slow and you never have to wait in line very long. So that is when I like to go.

Chaya was just so patient, having a meltdown 200 meters from our house, and I was pretty impressed with her sweetness.

And then I felt like I had accomplished so much and fell exhausted onto the couch to watch Dr. Phil and await Emil's 2:00 arrival from school!

This is a glimpse of life in Israel. I have more to write, but I hear my little princess stirring in her crib. I will try to blog again soon.

Thoughts from a pregnant brain

I swear, I don't think I will ever sleep again. Apparently what I am having as far as two pregnancies close together has a word, it is called Irish Twins. This baby is due 4 days after Chaya's first birthday, but it could come early or later, but they will still be considered Irish twins. Funny. I learned this on the Babycentre Pregnancy Boards, one of my new addictions.
Today I have a sinus headache. Started to get it last night so when David comes home tonight, I will take a hot bath and put a warm cloth on my nose for the pain. It just intensifies the exhaustion. Yesterday I was so tired that I could barely even lift Chaya up. It is so hard and last night I was almost in tears feeling sorry for myself. I just want to sleep. That is all I want to do. And you know, when Chaya is sleeping, I try to sleep but can't. It sucks. Yesterday I tried shutting the blinds in the bedroom but it didn't work. And last night, little Miss JAP went to sleep at 8 pm and woke up at quarter to 10 ready to play. I put her in her crib and she started screaming, so David went and picked her up and she looked over at me with this huge grin like she was saying "See, if you won't do it, Daddy will!" She really does have David wrapped around her finger. So we put her on the floor because she is starting to really work hard on her tummy. She is pushing her little butt up and balancing on her knees and hands, like she is getting ready to take off. Last night, she actually moved her legs forward before she fell flat on her face. I am amazed at how fast she is developing. And she can sit by herself now for a little while. She is such a strong baby. And everday, I fall more and more in love with her. She really is such a happy baby and friendly.

So it seems as if Israel is gearing up for war. First they said war with Syria in the summer, and that didn't happen and now it is war sometime in the next few weeks. I think after the invasion by Israel to Syria, it is getting more and more serious. Condoleeza Rice is here today to allegedly discuss a middle east peace conference, but I doubt it. I think Bush wants to invade Syria and Iran before he leaves office and he needs Israel to do it for him. Yom Kippur is coming up, and I think people are nervous about it because of the Yom Kippur war in 67. Israel comes to a standstill on Yom Kippur, kind of like North America on Christmas Day. No one drives, no one does anything. It is amazing that Yom Kippur is the biggest holiday. It is the day of atonement and you are to fast on that day. Even non religious people observe that day. There is nothing on TV, all the stations stop broadcasting. It is amazing. So if there is a war, everyone is at home, except, of course, the army. Not like last time...

I had an intention to blog about feminism, but my head hurts and I want to go and lie down for a few minutes before Emil comes home from school. I will finish later, hopefully.

Living In Israel

Sometimes people ask me what it is like to live in Israel. I know they mean because of the political situation, and I think that is self explanatory. It is not easy to live here amidst constant threat of war, violence etc. But there are so many things that disappoint me about this country. Perhaps it is because I am a spoiled North American, or perhaps there is something seriously wrong with this country.
Today was Emil's first day at school. The school has a bus that we are paying to pick him up. On Friday, David went to school with Emil and paid for the bus and was told that the driver would call him either before shabbat or after shabbat to let him know what time we should be downstairs for pick up. We didn't hear from him until close to 10 o'clock. He said 7:30. I, being the Canadian that I am was downstairs at 20 after 7 with Emil, baby and dog. We waited and waited...and waited...and waited. No bus. At 10 to 8 we went upstairs to check the phone to see if perhaps they had phoned. Nope. So I started to walk Emil to school and was a quarter of the way there when I saw a bus stop and I asked where they were going and lo and behold he was going to Emil's school. I put Emil in there and walked back home. Disorganization, I sighed. An Israeli phenomenon. Everywhere you go here, it is disorganized. All government agencies. All banks, everywhere that is supposed to be organized. I thought beaurocracy was bad in Denmark and sometimes at home in Canada, but it is nothing compared to Israel. If you ask someone for something, almost inevitably the first answer you will get is "NO". Then you have to bring more papers and more papers and more papers. It almost never ends. I have a hard time getting used to this. It is frustrating and that is an understatement. We are having a hard time financially and David applied for welfare 9 months ago. We haven't received a cent. Last week, they said that some money would be in our account in a day or two. That was Wednesday, still not there. And they have to pay you a lump sum for the back pay. It doesn't make sense. And everytime we think we are close to getting the money, they tell us, oh, sorry we need another paper, proof of this, proof of that. A third of this country's children live in poverty. Can you understand why now?
So last night, David was very nervous about Emil's first day of school. On Friday, Emil had been playing and some of the older kids told him he was ugly black. (Let me clarify for those of you who aren't aware, Emil is biracial) Apparently Emil said back to them that they are ugly white. Good for him. Today, however, he came home and told me the same kids once again called him a nigger. A nigger. And the strange thing is, here in Ashdod, there are many Ethiopian Jews. And Jews from India who are East Indian, complete with saris. Judaism isn't a caucasian stream, there are people of many backgrounds, heights, colors, etc, but within their own country, they are so racist towards one another. Once David and I were talking about this and he quoted someone who said this, I think, that the reason the Muslims are able to continue their terrorist activities and are hard to stop is because they are united in their religion. Jews are not. We fight each other every step of the way. We are a nation divided. A people divided. Everywhere you go. In North America and much of the western nations, it is the Reform vs conservative vs orthodox. Within orthodoxy there are divides amongst the various hassidic groups. We were in Jerusalem two weeks ago and Emil came to me and said, very upset "I don't think I am Jewish" and I said "Why?" And he told me that a kid outside had told him that he was a goy (Jewish for non Jew). We were in a very Hassidic part of town and I don't know if it was because Emil did something that broke shabbat or if it is because we don't dress him like a Hasid, or if it is because he is black and the Ethiopians who came had to convert. And many Hassidic sects believe that anyone who isn't like them is not Jewish and some of them don't believe in conversion. I don't know, but my point in this is that it illustrates the divide amongst the people. Maybe Jews could get a lesson from the Ba'hais with their mantra of one g-d, one people.
It makes me angry. This makes me angry. It is so unfair. We would have problems everywhere with Emil due to his color, I have been watching Oprah. It is not easy to be black. And then to add on top of that Jewish. Black and Jewish. I worry for him. I really do. It breaks my heart. It really does.
The good thing about North America and at least what I noticed in Canada, is that people are more educated about what they say. They know that outright racism won't be tolerated and is against the law. So I believe that there are fewer incidents of racism in North America. Emil questioned his color when we were in Canada, but was much more accepting of himself and his friends and people he came into contact with were not outright bigots. It makes me sick.
These kids today not only called him a nigger, but also stupid. What could I say? I asked him "Do you think you are stupid? Do you think you are ugly because you are black?" He said no. Finally. There was a time when he would have said yes. Then I explained to him that kids are mean. They are all mean and that he is going to have to deal with this all his life. I told him that when I was little kids used to make fun of me because they said that I had a big nose. In fact, it wasn't kids but my family who would make fun of me. My mother and sisters and brother. I grew up hating my nose. Then when I was 10 I developed breasts early and I was ashamed of that. That was a peer thing. I always hated my big nose and ample bosom. And look how many people pay to have their breast enlarged and G-d gave a natural set of honkin bonkers. And I hated them. The two things that I wanted were a nose job and breast reduction. Now, I have accepted my nose and don't give it much thought, but my chest has always been a source of embarrassment for me. I just want to be able to teach Emil that his differences should be celebrated and not a place of shame. It is hard. Really hard.
So, that is a little bit about living in Israel. The day to day things that annoy me about this country. The little things that can drive me to want to throw things and have tantrums. Sad.
Oh Canada, home and native land....

Sometimes I read other people's blogs and I just think, wow! They are almost poetic in their writing. Then I think I wish I could be that way in mine...Sigh.
Where to begin? I was contemplating changing the name of this blog, to something like life with children, because the pregnant thing wasn't fitting anymore. But guess what? I appear to be very much pregnant with number 2! So now I don't have to change the name!
I was noticing that Chaya seemed to be rejecting the breast and that I was dreaming a lot of very vivid dreams, which sometimes happens to me right before a period. Then I was going to the bathroom a lot, but I thought that was because I was drinking a lot of water and frankly, I have never had a very strong bladder! But then I didn't menstruate when I was supposed to. Which I thought, well it might just be due to breastfeeding. Well, lo and behold, I am with bun in the oven, one more time.
I have to say I wasn't very pleased. Chaya is only 5 months old, and if my calculations are right, this means that new baby should arrive right around Chaya's first birthday. I was disappointed because I wanted more time with Chaya, just me and her, without having more distractions than there already are. Plus, I wanted to breastfeed longer, and I no that one can breastfeed and be pregnant at the same time, however, Chaya hasn't wanted to unless she needs to sleep. I was finally starting to enjoy breastfeeding too. Plus, things have been very difficult financially for us, so there are so many things that make it hard to accept. But it is a reality and what is done is done. Fortunately so far, the biggest problem has been terrible moodswings. I am not super nauseous and in fact have only thrown up twice, this morning being one of those times. Otherwise, it is normal. But then I felt guilty for feeling disappointed. I know that there are so many other women out there who are having trouble conceiving or can't have children at all and I should be grateful, but really, I think, why am I deserving and these women not? I don't know, major mixed feelings about this.
Emil starts school on Friday. He is excited about this. I am excited about this. I feel guilty as I haven't had the energy to spend with him this summer. And he has been pretty bored and lonely. So it will be nice for him to be back in the social setting of school. He likes school, I can only hope that that will last him his whole school career. We so want our children to succeed where we didn't. I want my kids to go to university, to study and do well in school. I would like to go back to university. I don't know what I would like to study but I would like to learn again. And to finish a degree now, that would be a great role model for the kids. Maybe when we go back to Canada, I can do one class a semester and by the time I am fifty I could have a BA. You know, it wouldn't really matter how much time it took, it would just be nice to do it, I think. To accomplish it. My Dad was 42 when he got his PHD. Not bad.
But I also want my kids to be happy, doing whatever they are doing. I have hopes and dreams for them, but the most important thing is if they are happy doing what they are doing, be it a doctor or a cashier at McDonald's, then so be it! Yes, this is easy to say when they are 6 and 5 months, we will see how I will feel in 20 years about their choices!
Hey. Friend from Norway, I would love to answer some of your questions regarding living in Israel and Israeli politics, but I want to keep this blog as much as I can about the kids and pregnancy. If you want to send me a comment with your email address I would be happy to be an email penpal for you. All of the comments that I receive must be approved by me before being published on this page, so I just wouldn't publish your comment with your email address.
OK, good night everyone.

Kid Update

Well, I think I am over the shock of my actions. It's been a crazy couple of weeks, months, years, whatever.
As if things couldn't go more wrong, Emil had somehow contracted lice, I have no idea where or how, as he isn't in school or camp and the only place I can think that it might have happened was at his cousins in Haifa, but they didn't seem to be itching their heads when they came here to visit. So I don't really know how it happened but it did, so David shaved his head and I bought lice shampoo as I had a sneaking suspicion that perhaps I had it too. So I spent the last Friday before shabbat shampooing and combing through my hair. I have now done three treatments as I keep feeling itchy. I will do another one tomorrow and that should be it. I think it is gone now, unless I think about it...I haven't had lice since I was six.
Then I was terrified that the baby has it but I can't tell the difference between the flakes from her cradle cap and lice eggs. I keep looking for lice but haven't found any yet. Baruch Hashem.
Chaya is getting super funny now. She has figured out that she has a voice and isn't afraid to use it so she has now taken to yelling and screaming. It is pretty entertaining. And she can laugh pretty well now. It cracks me up. She also seems to have forgotten how to turn from her tummy to her back but now she turns from her back to her tummy and then gets stuck. Then she gets really mad and starts to scream. She sure has a temper. And she has found her toes and gets upset when she can't stick them into her mouth. I think with all her frustration she is going to push herself to do things and be quick. I think she is pretty funny. She adores Emil. She watches him wherever he goes and just waits for him to make her smile. Sometimes she smiles when she sees him in anticipation of what he is going to do to make her laugh. It is adorable. Seriously.
Emil has made a leap from baby to taking the big boy thing really seriously. I think perhaps his two weeks with his cousins made him feel really special because he could be on vacation by himself. Now he goes to the park in front of our house by himself and takes the elevator and knows the way. He is really proud of this accomplishment and although I am still a little uncomfortable with it, I let him continue because I see how good it has been for his self esteem and confidence. He feels really responsible and grown up because of this. I am proud of him. Now he wants to do EVERYTHING by himself, get his own cheerios and drinks. The other day I was trying to nap with Chaya and I heard him rooting around amongst the dishes in the kitchen and I came out and he was about to pour himself shabbat wine, which is only grape juice, but we keep it especially for shabbat. I stopped him in time. But it was cute nonetheless. He really has grown up and will be starting grade one in September. He turns six in three weeks and I am still trying to figure out how to have a party for him on a small budget.
So that is the news of the kids.

I think I'm turning Israeli, I think I'm turning Israeli, I really think so...

Well, I just experienced my first case of the protective mother instinct. What do they call it? The lion instinct? I can't remember. It's either that or I have really become Israeli.
I took the kids and the dog to the playground today and we were the only ones there for a little while. The dog was sitting nicely beside me lounging and sleeping. This is what she normally does. She is an old dog, almost near her end. Anyway, these older russian ladies come, I will call them the Russian nanny mafia. This lady tells me to move with the dog. It's a huge park, with a lot of space, so why they need to sit exactly where I am sitting, I have no idea. I told her no I wasn't moving. That she could move. And she plopped herself down and refused to move and continued yelling at me. I'm like what? So I yelled a few choice words at her in English and then she told me she was going to call the police. Seriously, because I wouldn't move with the dog. I laughed, because in a country where there is a constant threat of terrorist acts, the police will only come if you are dying. I know, we called them once when some kids came to our door and wouldn't leave (that's a story for a different time and doesn't involve me directly). So, I laughed and told her to go ahead, call them over a dog. So all was quiet for a little while, when the dog decided to move her position and came and plopped herself down at this woman's feet, which I have to say, I thought it was a little funny. Now, I had the baby on my lap and the woman starts to yell at me again, half in russian half in Hebrew. I told her that I had been here first and she could move, and then she grabbed my arm, to which I ashamedly admit, I slapped her in the face. Then she grabbed my arm and scratched me with her long fake russian nails. I couldn't believe it. Then SHE threatened to call the police on me. I told her to go ahead. Anyway, she won finally because I was so furious that I was afraid that I would hurt her more and then I really would have been in trouble. So I called Emil and we left. But as I was leaving I said very nicely in English that I hope she dies a horrible death of cancer. In Danish, how they swear is by saying something like, "May cancer eat your mother". Good that it came in handy today.
Okay, I know this is insanity but it's the PRINCIPLE of the thing. I am tired of people in Israel pushing me around. Seriously, the only way to survive here is to be tough and sometimes aggressive in physical ways. Besides, if someone tries to hurt me with my child in my arms, you can bet that I am going to react unreasonably.
Oh sigh. Just another day in Israel.
This was my first fight in my life. I have never in my life hit another human being. Well, not those that weren't my brothers and sisters. I called David and he told me well done. I think I made him feel better about himself and then he told me to call my sponsor. The funny thing is, that this happened just as I was reading step 3 and 4 in the big book. How Ironic!

Day from Hell

Oh my god! What a day from hell! This is the beginning of Emil's summer holiday, so it was my first day with the two kids alone. David has finally found some work and was off to work today. So we go to the park in the morning until about 11 where we met an American woman who is here on vacation with her three kids. This was nice, to be able to chat a little with someone in English. She isn't really my cup of tea, but whatever...Then we come home and the baby wants to nurse pretty much every hour, which I am finding really frustrating and don't know why this is happening. She is three months old for pete's sake! But the day goes pretty smoothly and then she falls asleep finally for a long nap and I get the dishes done and the floor swept. I debate cleaning the floor but I don't know how long the baby is going to sleep and I want to do something just me and Emil. So he and I bake a cake, a banana cake and we have a good time doing that and then I have a brilliant idea that I will make homemade pizza for dinner. So I throw some oil, flour water and yeast together and think, okay, now I have to go to the store to buy some mushrooms and some tomato sauce. So Emil lollywags getting his shoes on (at about age 4 and 5 it takes them 3 hours to do ANYTHING!) and we finally get out the door. We get downstairs and Chaya decides that is the moment she needs to wake up. It is 5 o'clock. So back upstairs we go and feed her and back outside we go. 5:30. She cries the whole way to the market and back again. As usual. She seems to pretty much hate leaving the house. She may be agoraphobic. We get back inside and I am so so frustrated. I sit down to nurse her AGAIN! I am doing that when all of a sudden I look down at the floor and there is like an inch of water everywhere all of a sudden. I throw Chaya (Literally) into her crib and run to the kitchen. The tube that connects the hot water from the tap in the wall to the tap on the sink has burst and hot water is flying everywhere. I turn off the tap and now I have to set about cleaning all this water. 6:15 pm. I am trying to do it as quickly as I can. In the meantime, I put too much oil in the pizza dough, so it is a bust. Emil hasn't really eaten since 11:30 am. But he is happily watching tv. Then Chaya starts to cry again and now I am about ready to have a nervous breakdown. I call David, three times, no answer. I don't know why he has a cell phone. I want to kill him. So I go into "that is it, I am moving back to Canada or we have to move to either Haifa or Jerusalem. " I go to my neighbor to ask her to come and just hold the baby while I clean up and she isn't there, but her daughter comes and holds her. Chaya falls asleep in her arms and I finish cleaning the water. I take her from the neighbor and she leaves and I try to put her into her stroller but she wakes up and starts screaming again. 6:50pm. I resolve that Emil is not going to bed at 8 like usual but what the hell it is the holidays anyway. I whip together some pasta all the while the baby is screaming her head off like I am pulling out her nails one by one. I get Emil a dish of pasta and back to feeding the baby. Now she falls asleep again and lets me actually put her down and I grab some food for myself. Calculate that the last time I ate was also 11:30. No wonder I am about to have a nervous breakdown. Oh yeah, tell Emil to turn off TV for dinner and have to repeat myself 3 times culminating in me yelling "TURN OFF THE TV!" Not my finest moment. 7:30 pm. Go to run Emil a bath but there is no hot water as it all flowed onto the floor. Skip bath, tell Emil to get his pajamas on and now baby is awake again happy as a clam. We read him a story kiss him goodnight and I lay on my bed drained. But baby is still awake. Entertain her for a bit, then she starts to get fussy again and feed her and finally she seems to hopefully be out for the night. Now there is laundry to hang and an icing to make for the cake and dishes to do. All done. On the upside, my floor is clean! I guess G-d wanted me to have clean floors for some reason!