tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54884338100395746022024-03-13T09:53:39.725-07:00Jewish Single Mom By ChoiceI am a single mother by choice, blessed with my daughter Raphaela, conceived and born in Jerusalem in October 2009. Raising a happy and healthy child; balancing work, parenthood and relationships; with the additional challenge of doing it on my own, in Israel.Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.comBlogger1278125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-23690008959081593502016-06-28T05:05:00.002-07:002016-06-28T05:14:47.126-07:00Goodbye and FarewellThis week has become a series of good-byes, from some of her teachers and her after-school activities, and one of our goldfish. Although she understands that the Summer vacation does eventually come to an end and she will return to her routine, I have witnessed lots of emotion and hugs.<br />
<br />
Raphaela has a hard time with endings and separation.<br />
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I am going to add in one more farewell, and that is the retirement of this blog.<br />
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When I started this blog, I thought I could add something to the discussion, about fertility treatments, about pregnancy, about single motherhood and its place in a modern Jewish community.<br />
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When I started this blog, I also didn't quite realize that the internet never forgets, and that the world wide web gets everywhere on the globe. As much as I may have contributed, I have probably also offended people without meaning to. And for that I apologize.<br />
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There is another factor that has most recently become more relevant: Raphaela has finished First Grade and is reading in two different languages. It will not be long before she can sit in front of the computer and find this blog and read it, all by herself. For the most part, she will see how much I love her, how beautiful she is, inside and out, and how blessed I feel for having taken the step of becoming a single mother by choice.<br />
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There will also be posts that she will read about how hard it is to parent, alone or otherwise, and how not all of my days have been my finest of days.<br />
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I think I need to respect her privacy as a fully formed person, and I think that now is a good time to close this chapter. I want to thank everyone who read until now, and I do hope that something I said helped you.<br />
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I will be keeping this blog open now and again, for future postings of photographs, but from now on, mine and Raphaela's life will stay behind closed doors, and closed computers.<br />
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I end with one last story: When we were driving home from school the other day, I reminded Raphaela that once Summer vacation begins, we will be going away for a small trip, in honor of my birthday.<br />
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How old will you be, Mommy?<br />
<br />
25.<br />
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Wow, that's old!<br />
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Sorry, just joking, actually I will be 48 in July.<br />
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WOW, that's really old!Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-66985299849469066422016-06-23T05:20:00.001-07:002016-06-23T08:28:58.469-07:00Summer HaircutThe heat in Jerusalem for the past two weeks has been unbearable. I had gotten to the point where I was prepared to chop all my hair myself, and so I called my stylist two days ago, in the middle of the day, and declared a hair emergency. I begged him to find time for me in between his other clients, and my patients.<br />
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When I picked up Raphaela from school later that afternoon, she looked at my cool and breezy cut and gasped in horror:<br />
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Mommy, how could you, what have you done?!<br />
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What, you don't like my haircut? I love it!<br />
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I preferred it much better when your hair was long, like mine. You are not going to make me cut my hair too, are you? I LOVE my Princess hair.<br />
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No! You may keep your beautiful Princess hair as long as you want.<br />
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Thank goodness, that was a close call...<br />
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And the best part is, I can wear my hair short during this hot hot Summer, and then grow it long in the Winter again.<br />
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Well, at least that. Thank goodness!Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-18888232536362775202016-06-18T09:48:00.000-07:002016-06-18T09:48:16.818-07:00SuperMommyThis morning in synagogue (the one we like, finally) it was my turn to help with the youth group. For the most part, it involved gathering about 45 kids into the room, and toward the end, pouring grape juice, and distributing ice pops.<br />
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Raphaela and her good friend ("C") sat there, surreptitiously waving at me and mouthing "Great job, Mommy." She was very proud that her mother had a presence in the room, but played it cool in front of her peers.<br />
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A four year old boy sat next to the girls, and he had brought a sharp stick with him from the playground outside. The kind of stick that you would find as a picture under the dictionary definition of Someone-Could-Lose-An-Eye. At first he was waving it menacingly toward Raphaela and C, and I watched as my daughter told him to stop and be careful and to put the stick down, away from them and the other children.<br />
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As you would expect, he didn't listen much. <br />
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This little play went on for close to ten minutes, and at a certain point, I saw C push her chair back, with a look of fear on her face, and I watched as the sharp end came dangerously close to my own child.<br />
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Having determined that this boy's parents were obviously no where near by, and realizing that the girls' non-violent efforts to stop him had failed miserably, I stepped in; I took the stick away, gave the boy a stern look and said, "If you can't be careful with this, you can't have it."<br />
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As I walked away, I heard Raphaela and C cheering, and then I heard Raphaela say, "She saved us, hooray! Isn't a good thing that I have a Mommy like THAT?"<br />
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<i>Postscript</i>: As we walked home from synagogue, Raphaela told and retold the story of their harrowing adventures, the adventure becoming bigger than life with each re-telling. She said, "You know what I learned today from you? I learned that you try to resolve a conflict without hitting, and without killing someone."<br />
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I think I need to refine the message just a little.Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-12716240463570429902016-06-16T23:37:00.001-07:002016-06-16T23:37:30.956-07:00Love and MarriageMommy, when you get married...<br />
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I am not really dating anyone seriously right now.<br />
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I know, it's a theoretical questions.<br />
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Okay.<br />
<br />
So, when you get married, you will have another baby, right? And I will have a brother or sister.<br />
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Not exactly.<br />
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But that's what happens: you get married, you have children. (<i>Patting my belly as she is talking</i>)<br />
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First of all, I already had a baby, you! Second of all, getting married does not determine pregnancy, it only happens if your body agrees. And I don't think my body will agree to have any more children.<br />
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Mommy, I really hope you find a good man to marry. I want a Daddy to play with, and I can help both of you.<br />
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Raphaela, your job is not to take care of me, or your father. Your job is to help out a little, because you live in the house. But more important, your job is to be a girl and experience the world and have a beautiful life.<br />
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Mommy, you deserve to have a beautiful life too!<br />
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<br />Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-35539671815925541622016-06-12T23:01:00.000-07:002016-06-13T01:03:11.560-07:00Post Shavuot Report(Random musings after a long holiday weekend.)<br />
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I believe in reincarnation, though I have not put too much thought into who Raphaela might have been in a previous life. This weekend she was playing with some Playmobil figures, and said, "This family is very poor, because they used up all their life savings to buy their house, and now they don't have a financial safety net."<br />
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Seriously. I am not making this up. Apparently in her previous life she was very fiscally savvy.<br />
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Among the various Torah topics that came up during Shavuot were the Ten Commandments, and why some of them make sense intrinsically for society - "Don't Kill" "Don't Steal" - and why some are more difficult, like "Honor your father and your mother." I explained that the Torah does not actually talk about love in this commandment, it is about respect for the person who brought you into the world. It is about (in all practical terms) "listening to your Mommy."<br />
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Then I looked at Raphaela, straight in the eyes, and said, "The Torah talks about a child honoring and respecting her parents. I will make you a deal: if you listen to me and treat me with kindness, I will do the same for you. Because you are my girl. I will do the commandment of honoring you, your feelings and your needs."<br />
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Raphaela was most pleased.<br />
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She has become a shrewd negotiator, this girl. I wanted to take a nap on Sunday of Shavuot, because I so rarely get that gift during my work week, in fact, never. Raphaela wanted me to play with her, all day, and resented my taking two hours out of that schedule to sleep.<br />
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Then she suggested to me, "Mommy, we always take a nap on Shabbat, and when we wake up, you give me a special Shabbat snack. If I let you nap on a Sunday, on Shavuot, will you give me a special Shavuot snack when you wake up?"<br />
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Deal! Done and done.<br />
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======================================================================<br />
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Yesterday we spent some time at the Gazelle Valley near our house, and had a brunch picnic in the grass. Remarkably, there was a group of three deer that had left the gated off sanctuary and were wandering around the park; they came within three feet of myself and Raphaela, we could almost pet them. We were so excited and spend a good hour following this intrepid group around the grass and up the pathways, that I didn't notice that I had dropped my small bag.<br />
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When we sat down to eat, I realized that it was missing, and told Raphaela that if we didn't find it, so be it. It was not the worst tragedy in the world.<br />
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Then a little French boy walked by, and I noticed that he had my little pouch on his arm. Raphaela jumped up and caught up to him, and said, "That is my Mommy's bag, can we have it back please?" The boy agreed immediately and came over, telling us his and his whole family's life story; they are moving to a bigger apartment, they are getting a dog, their exact address, his feelings on women who wear short-shorts...<br />
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I took him back to his parents and told them that he had done me a great kindness by finding my bag in the bushes and returning it to me without hesitation. Parents should hear that they have done a good job, because we so often do not receive any external validation.<br />
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On Pessach, the first day of school vacation, Raphaela lost her first tooth. On Shabbat, Raphaela lost her second tooth.<br />
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I explained that the Tooth Fairy does not work on Shabbat or Jewish holidays, and that she would have to wait until Monday night to place her Precious under the pillow. Raphaela carried around that tooth for two days straight, to be sure that it would ready and able the minute the holiday ended.<br />
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She also wrote this letter, and folded it next to her tooth:<br />
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<br />Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-30127873944934359932016-06-09T23:08:00.000-07:002016-06-10T01:29:47.620-07:00A Visit to the VetI dedicate this post today to my first born, Harry The Highlander. At the honorable age of 14 and a half (that's almost 80 in human years), this cat has taught me patience, and how to love without expecting anything in return.<br />
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At home, he is almost human: needy for attention from people, extremely verbal, easy to purr even with strangers, and always placing himself at the center of any action. When we go to the vet (thank goodness infrequently) he has been red-flagged by the doctor as a vicious, uncooperative, scratching tiger. Even if he has to get a simple procedure, he must either be sedated or put in the Squeeze Cage.<br />
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Yesterday he had an appointment, and needed to get two injections. As Harry gets older, the doctor has advised less shots and less intervention, so it was three years since our last visit. It was a new vet, and I advised him that unless he didn't value his hands, it would be best to use the Squeeze Cage.<br />
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"But he looks so sweet and friendly," the vet said.<br />
"Trust me." I replied.<br />
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Once caged, Harry allowed the vet and his assistant to do their work, not acting out at all, though certainly complaining loudly the entire time. No humans were harmed in the attempt.<br />
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The vet thought that I had overestimated Harry's resistance to the doctor's office.<br />
I know I didn't. Because I heard about it all the way home, from Harry.<br />
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And finally, to show his displeasure, he ran into the garden and hid from me for the rest of the day, refusing to come inside as it got dark.<br />
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(Raphaela, who aspires to be a Veterinarian and Zoo Keeper when she gets older, found the whole experience hilarious.)<br />
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<br />Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-64237796170505599002016-06-03T03:11:00.000-07:002016-06-03T03:11:01.742-07:00Chumash PartyThroughout this year, Raphaela and her classmates have been learning the stories of Genesis in depth. Her teacher challenges them to think about the emotional implications of the stories as well IE "How do you think Noah felt when the dove didn't return to the Ark?" "How do you think Adam and Eve felt when they were punished for not listening?"<br />
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Today, one month before First Grade officially ends, Raphaela received her official Chumash [<i>Torah</i>], covered in beautiful decorations and marking the time when she will start reading from the text itself; because now she can read in Hebrew all by herself.<br />
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This morning, while getting dressed, Raphaela's biggest concern was that her loose tooth would fall out during the performance on stage, in front of all the teachers and the visitors. I assured her that if her tooth dramatically popped out during the show, it would make it all the more enjoyable and memorable.<br />
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There was of course another twist to this celebration, grandparents were the honored guests, and having none in the country, Raphaela had to settle with me (boring Mom), and my brother. Normally during the year, my daughter does not express regret or sadness at being relatively isolated from our family here in Jerusalem, Israel; in the last week we have had several conversations about all the people we love, who live far away.<br />
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There was singing and hand movements, speeches and plays, and the bit that always chokes me up, when they spread a giant tallit over all 80 girls and all the parents and grandparents gave them a blessing.<br />
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Afterwards, Raphaela's teacher asked me to give a short speech to the class about family and the chain of history that links us all. I was honored, and hope I did Raphaela proud.<br />
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All the way home, Raphaela hugged her Chumash like it was gold, and called it her "beautiful and holy book." May she continue to grow in accomplishments and joy, and may I live a long and healthy life to be able to share in all these moving events.Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-58434608381087053302016-05-27T03:36:00.000-07:002016-05-27T03:37:42.831-07:00Money MattersYesterday Raphaela had a day off from school; yes, yet another Jewish holiday in the series for the month of May. We met up with cousins in the morning for breakfast, and then took advantage of International Free Museum Day.<br />
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For whatever reason, Raphaela seemed fixated on the topic of money and personal finances the entire day.<br />
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As we waited for the bus, Raphaela asked me what kind of grand celebration I had received when I turned 12. I told her that when I was that age, no one made a big deal about girls, and other than a pretty standard birthday party in our backyard, the event came and went. She seemed shocked and sad for me, because, she explained, I didn't get loads of presents. Then she said, "Don't worry Mommy, when I have my Bat Mitzvah you can make me a fantastic party, and give me lots of presents." <br />
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When I took out coins to pay for the bus, Raphaela asked me where money comes from, and how did I (personally) have money to spend. I explained to her that I work very hard, and that I get paid for helping people feel better, and then I have money to take care of us. Raphaela, proud of herself and her future earning capacity, told me that when she gets older she is going to be a Veterinarian.<br />
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"That's wonderful, " I said, "but right now you are a little girl who doesn't work. Your work is to go to school and learn great things, play with your friends and do your homework. And you are too young to baby sit." Then I explained the concept of an allowance, that if she does her specific jobs around the house all week, she will earn money, and she can then spend on herself or save toward something bigger.<br />
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Raphaela loved that idea, and starting next week, we have a chore chart.<br />
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When we met our cousins, my very Israeli daughter asked them how much money they make and basically, what is their net worth. With a nervous giggle, I stopped Raphaela and explained to her that the question was not polite, and that it is really none of our business how much anyone else earns, or where they spend it.<br />
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Another life lesson for her to check off the list.<br />
<br />Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-3525878240637049382016-05-21T23:12:00.000-07:002016-05-22T02:25:23.675-07:00This past Friday, as I prepared for Shabbat, Raphaela came into the kitchen and said, "Mommy, I can help you today. I do have two free hands."<br />
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We have a bird nest on the small shelf outside our bathroom. The chicks are almost full bird-size at this point, and yet their mother continues to feed them, and they plant themselves firmly in their nest, refusing to even trying to fly into the real world. <br />
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Raphaela and I spent the last hour before Shabbat ended (what a long long Shabbat) watching an amusing play between the mother and her babies. Excuse me if I misinterpret certain bird sounds.<br />
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<b>Bird Mom</b>: What, you are still in the nest? Time for you to learn how to fly! (<i>paces around the shelf near the nest)</i><br />
<b>Bird Babies</b>: What do you mean, time to leave?! We like it here.<br />
<b>Bird Mom</b>: Well, I am not sticking around when you are perfectly capable of flying like a normal bird. (<i>Flies away</i>)<br />
<b>Bird Babies</b>: (<i>Heads bobbing wildly, they both step up to the ledge of the window</i>) Hey, did she actually leave us here?<br />
Several minutes pass, the mother does not return, and the birds sit down stubbornly in their nest.<br />
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==================================================================<br />
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This morning, as I was getting Raphaela her breakfast, before I jumped into the shower to start my day, she watched me as I set out her cereal and milk, a glass of juice and a small piece of cheese. As she took the food to her table, she said, "Mommy, you are like a waitress! How did you learn that?"<br />
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As we got ready to go to school, Raphaela admired my pocket book, and asked me what it was made of. I hesitated for a minute and then said, "Honey, I know that you are a vegetarian and it hurts your feelings when you think about animals being killed and eaten. So what I am about to tell you might not be nice for you."<br />
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She nodded seriously, and I continued, "We get lots of things from cows, food like meat and milk for drinking. But leather, like my purse or like some kinds of shoes, also comes from a cow, it is their skin."<br />
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Surprisingly, she did not flinch, and instead admired how useful a cow could be for humans. Raphaela will not undo her vegetarian choice, but she is quite interested in understanding how milk starts from the cow and ends up in our supermarket. Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-73600204224937395282016-05-18T08:45:00.000-07:002016-05-18T08:47:41.739-07:00Mirror MirrorMy mother had me at the age of 21, I don't know if she was ready to be a parent, but that's just what people did then. My mother had her last child at the same age that I had my first and only daughter.<br />
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Some days I wake up and I feel like a grown up: I have a responsible job where I help people feel healthy, I am in charge of my life and the social secretary for my daughter, I do volunteer work and generally, I am seen as a competent adult. Other days I look at myself in the mirror and think, "Who is that? How did I get here?"<br />
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Raphaela has three birthday parties this week, and that of course started the massive communication among parents for car pooling. I had agreed to take Raphaela and one of her close friends, and along the way I picked up two other girls from the class. My car was full of gorgeous chattering first graders, one of whom belonged to me.<br />
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One of the girls in the car told me that when I send pizza for Raphaela's lunch, she and other kids in the class get jealous. Another girl in the car said that I was a "Cool Mom" and that Raphaela was lucky to have me.<br />
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Seriously, when did I become that person trusted by other parents to drive their children? When did I renew my expertise in hair accessories and sticker trading and Barbie? When did my nerdy interests become cool for the next generation?<br />
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I once asked a friend if I "looked like a mother," and she said that I look like the right age and station in life to be a parent, without looking "old." My friend also said that I seem like the kind of person who should have had more than one.<br />
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And yet some days, I feel like I need someone else to be the adult, or at the very least, I need a personal assistant.<br />
<br />Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-26219021422819392432016-05-16T23:02:00.001-07:002016-05-18T08:46:04.306-07:00Return of an Old FriendIt has been a few years since Raphaela has watched Dora the Explorer, she outgrew the fascination with a magical back pack and talking animals who live in the Amazon Rain Forest. Dora never seemed to go to school, as she was too busy on her fantastical adventures, and her parents didn't seem to mind.<br />
<br />
Recently, we discovered a new show called Dora in The Big City, in which Dora is a teenager, her family has moved out of their colorful isolated cabin in the Amazon and into a posh beachfront town. Dora has one friend who is a boy (Pablo) and a group of girls who of course represent all the politically correct skin tones and ethnicities. Dora has also traded in her magical back pack for a magical bracelet; at the end of each show, she and her friends hang out at a juice bar on the pier, and talk about how great it feels to help others.<br />
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Dora still does not seem to attend high school.<br />
<br />
Well, yesterday we were channel hopping, and delighted in the teenage Dora show, because it was a reunion/cross-over with her old Explorer self. Her best friend, the monkey Boots, needed help, because the Swiper the Thieving Fox stole Back Pack and Talking Map. Which of course led to Dora and her troupe to travel by train plane and automobile, and boat, to the Amazon Rain Forest, her former home.<br />
<br />
And of course we got to see all of her old friends: Benny the Strong Dumb Ox , Isa the Lizard Gardener, Tiko the Gay English speaking squirrel, Big Red Chicken, Roberto the Robot, etc. They hadn't changed a bit, and I found myself getting choked up as well.<br />
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What impressed me most was that the fox not only acknowledged his stealing ways, but he also showed genuine remorse and helped locate the items. A redemption of sort for the character, except for that brief moment when he contemplated grabbing Dora's magical bracelet.<br />
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At the end of the show, after they did the stupid kid Dora dance and sang of a mash up of the new and old series song, all the new and old characters had a sleepover in Dora's TARDIS-like tree house (bigger on the inside) in her backyard, in the Big City. As Dora said, and as I concurred, "We were all having such a wonderful time together and getting along so well, I didn't want it to end."<br />
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As the screen faded to black, Boots the Monkey started to tell the story of how he and Dora accidentally turned Benny into a potato.<br />
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That was one of my favorite episodes...Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-67540831773670042102016-05-14T09:32:00.000-07:002016-05-14T09:32:06.010-07:00The New SynagogueFor several years now I have avoided regularly attending the synagogue right down the street, despite the fact that many of Raphaela's classmates play there during the services. This particular congregation takes a very conservative view on families, and as a single mother I have never felt welcome there.<br />
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Recently, Raphaela has asked that we try the synagogue that meets in her school building; I don't think my daughter has a real interest in the prayers per se, one of her best friends goes there, and it is another opportunity for them to play.<br />
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Today we braved the horrible heat and walked there, Raphaela immediately found a few of her friends and disappeared in play. I noticed that most of the other married women there did not cover their hair; and that when the Torah was being put away, the scroll was passed to the women's section in the most natural and accepting way.<br />
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Statistically speaking, there were more children than adults, and they made a real effort to encourage each new person to come back next week as we build this community together.<br />
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I may have found a place I like, after all this time.Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-46703880181611795062016-05-07T23:01:00.000-07:002016-05-07T23:01:34.903-07:00Politics Start YoungYesterday was the usual too-long Shabbat, with Raphaela's hyperactivity at maximum, with lots of energy and not enough outlets.<br />
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At one point during the day I said in frustration, "You are acting like a crazy person!"<br />
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Raphaela answered, "Does that mean I have to move to America and vote for Donald Trump?"<br />
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The first US Presidential election that I remember was Carter, at the age of eight. I distinctly recall walking around the house all day and doing impressions of Carter, with his Southern Drawl. Among my other successful celebrity impressions was Dr. Ruth Westheimer, to whom I used to listen secretly on her radio show "Sexually Speaking."<br />
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A political science major at Barnard College, I continue to be politically active and aware, even though I now work in medicine. I suppose Raphaela's response was indicative of the ranting I have been doing lately about the insanity in the Presidential election.Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-84439522927149519942016-05-03T22:18:00.001-07:002016-05-04T04:12:00.532-07:00Yom HaShoah 2016<b>RR</b>: There are Israeli flags on cars and houses! That's because Yom HaAtzmaut is coming. [<i>Israeli Independence Day]</i><br />
<b>Mom</b>: Actually there is another reason for the flags, tonight starts Yom HaShoah. [<i>Holocaust Remembrance Day</i>] There was an evil man named Hitler, he was kind of like Haman from Purim. Hitler wanted to kill all the Jews, and he did kill too many of us.<br />
<b>RR</b>: How many?<br />
<b>Mom</b>: Hitler killed six million Jews, and lots of other people as well before he was done. This was before there was an Israel.<br />
<b>RR</b>: (<i>in her quiet voice</i>) Six million...that's a lot.<br />
<b>Mom</b>: Yes. And still, the Jews are here.<br />
<b>RR</b>: We are still here. When I have a baby, I will become a Mommy and you will become a Bubby. Life continues, and we will grow and grow.<br />
<b>Mom</b>: Indeed! Tomorrow when you are in school, there will be a siren to remember all the people who died, the soldiers who helped them, and all the Jews who survived and built families again.<br />
<b>RR</b>: But not the kind of siren that you have to run to the bomb shelter, right? I know where the bomb shelter is in our school, we did a drill.<br />
<b>Mom</b>: Right, that is another kind of siren that I hope we don't hear again.<br />
<b>RR</b>: I will make sure to drink a lot of water before the siren, so I can stand still and quiet and not be thirsty.<br />
<b>Mom</b>: The siren does not last that long, I don't think you will get too thirsty.<br />
<b>RR</b>: It goes by quickly. And next week there will be another siren, for the Israeli soldiers who keep us safe.<br />
<b>Mom</b>: That's right, for the soldiers who were killed protecting us and our country.Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-23586887956562404832016-04-23T09:41:00.002-07:002016-04-23T09:46:15.538-07:00Deep Thoughts, the Pessach EditionEvery year Raphaela asks more advanced questions at the Seder, as her worldview widens. Here are the top four issues addressed this weekend:<br />
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1. " I see they have the four boys, when do they address the four girls?"<br />
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Mommy thinks to herself: I see I have a budding feminist in the house, though I can't say I am surprised. I copped out on this one, simply saying that the language of the text addresses the subject in masculine, but the four sons really represent four different kind of children, boys and girls.<br />
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2. "How does the evil son come about, if he was raised in a good family?"<br />
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What followed was a discussion about personal choice, and about how eventually a person makes their own path outside their family, and then has to take responsibility for their actions. "A good person come out of a troubled family, and a bad person can come out of a perfectly beautiful childhood. Not every Egyptian was bad to the Jews when they were slaves, just like not every Arab wants to hurt us because we are Israelis. That's why we take away some of the wine when we recite the plagues, because all human beings are God's creations."<br />
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3. "The animals, like the cows and sheep and goats, and the horses at the splitting of the Sea, why did they have to get punished when it was Pharaoh who was not letting the Jews leave?" Asked Raphaela, the vegetarian.<br />
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My daughter had asked this question several years ago, and I admit that I didn't have a great answer then, nor did I have one last night. Her current food choices only made this more concerning to her. Someone else at the table explained to Raphaela that animals "exist to serve man and God" and that they were doing God's work by participating in the miracle of the ten plagues. Secretly, I didn't buy that explanation.<br />
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4. "How does the Prophet Elijah get all around the world in one night? Does he actually visit everyone who is doing a Seder with their family, like even in France and America?"<br />
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I briefly explained the miraculous circumstances of the Elijah's non-death, and that God has given him the job of doing special assigments. In a fun twist, my cousin (with whom we celebrated the Seder) had left a note from the Prophet Elijah at the doorway, so when Raphaela opened the door to invite him in, she received a pleasant and unexpected surprise. <br />
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To me, the Seder should be about transmitting personal and communal values to the next generation, and I appreciated that all the adults at the table made the night a dramatic and almost magical adventure, geared toward the children.<br />
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<br />Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-42266456666038685662016-04-19T04:20:00.001-07:002016-04-19T04:20:53.898-07:00A Time of Memory MakingPessach in Israel feels very much like Christmas or Thanksgiving did in the United States: it is impossible to find parking at any store or mall, there is way too much preoccupation with food; and people need extra sessions with their therapists, because of the emotional trauma of the Seder and the week long vacation IE lots of family time.<br />
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This time of the year I find myself becoming nostalgic, thinking about my grandparents who not only led Seder for many years, but also hosted the whole family (25 people, one shower, two toilets) in their New England home. The boy cousins slept in army beds in the basement, the adults got actual bedrooms, and the few girl grandchildren were scattered on various floors. Along with the usual dysfunctional family dynamics, it allowed me to know my cousins well, well enough that we are still in contact and still friends.<br />
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So many small things bring back the memories of those relatives, some now passed on and most of us scattered around the globe.<br />
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Yesterday was the last day of English Camp, and Raphaela came home tired and sad, already missing her teacher and the other children, including her "boyfriend." Raphaela started crying, and as I comforted her, I couldn't help but think about my grandmother, for whom my daughter is named. My Bubby hated saying good-bye, and I have this image in my head of boarding a train some time in college; as the train pulled away I could see my grandmother waving and crying, as if we would never see each other again.<br />
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Later in the evening, I had a dentist appointment at the mall to repair a cracked tooth; no Matza for me this year, yay! Since Raphaela was officially on vacation, she came with me. It took 20 minutes to find a parking spot, we stalked shoppers leaving the building and practically ran them over, staking our claim. I never like to arrive late, so we rushed straight to the doctor's office, but on the way out, we had to walk through the mall and the bustle of the pre-Pessach customers.<br />
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I have never liked shopping, especially during the holiday season, and wanted to just get to the car and leave. My daughter the Fashionista was fascinated by every store window, and insisted several times that we go into the store and find me a new dress for Pessach. We failed in our mission, but her enthusiasm was running at a high, and let me tell you, she has very good (read: expensive) taste.<br />
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"My mother would love to shop with Raphaela, " I thought. "Too bad we live on different continents." Because I spent most of my childhood and high school years moaning and groaning while my mother made me window shop with her.<br />
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Today, after I finished working, Raphaela and I went shopping, again. (Have I mentioned that I dislike shopping?) Our first stop was the shoe store, toward the purpose of getting Raphaela new socks for Spring/Summer. Well, Raphaela saw a pair of the coolest, most fashionable sandals in the store and had to have them. And yes, they look great on her and she has excellent taste.<br />
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Then we went to find me a new outfit for the holiday, and Raphaela became my style consultant. "No, Mommy, that dress makes your tush look big." "Mommy, that dress is so boring, you need something with color, something light and fun." "How about this shirt, Mommy, it would look beautiful on you!" Today I did find something to spruce up my wardrobe and my mood.<br />
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It hit me that I have a real person with me, someone I love because she is my girl, but also because she is genuinely fun to have around.<br />
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Our last stop was the supermarket, the final food run before Pessach starts on Friday. Once again we waited 20 minutes for parking, and another 15 minutes to nab an available shopping cart. We went through our list, adding extras only slightly, and when we came home, Raphaela helped me unpack the groceries.<br />
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I do feel truly blessed.<br />
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<br />Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-25071767999673605572016-04-17T22:27:00.000-07:002016-04-17T22:27:31.492-07:00Emergency CallThis morning while packing her lunchbox for camp, Raphaela was unable to find her water bottle. In fact I was unable to find a travel water bottle, anywhere in the house; I could've sworn that yesterday we had at least four.<br />
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Raphaela conjectured, "Maybe the nasty security people from the airport snuck into our house and took them all. You know how much they are afraid of water."<br />
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Then Raphaela picked up her imaginary phone and put it to her ear. "Mommy, I am going to call the Water Bottle Police. Don't worry, I know their number. And if they don't pick up the phone, we can always Skype them."<br />
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(Different generation, different world...)Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-31839468034732512272016-04-14T23:59:00.002-07:002016-04-14T23:59:48.819-07:00VacationThis morning Raphaela and I went to the bakery and then walked around the neighborhood, as she has no school (since Tuesday) and no camp on Fridays.<br />
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I challenged her to an impromptu photo competition, she played around with my camera, and here is her final submission:<br />
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She has a good eye, and as she practices, I have no doubt she will only improve.</div>
<br />Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-42428482641070094952016-04-12T22:31:00.000-07:002016-04-12T22:31:43.509-07:00The Tooth Fairy vs. The Prophet ElijahLast night while I was brushing Raphaela's hair, her first tooth fell out.<br />
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It was a cause for great celebration and "happy tears" in our house, as this meant that she was really getting big and more important, it meant that the Tooth Fairy would be visiting our house in the night, after Raphaela fell asleep.<br />
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First thing Raphaela did was call her current BFF "N", upon which she got a five minute lecture from her friend that it is stupid to believe in the Tooth Fairy and that the real culprit is our mother or father. Six and a half years old, and already so jaded...<br />
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Undaunted, Raphaela carefully wrapped her tooth and put it under her pillow. Lo and Behold, when she woke up this morning her tooth had magically disappeared, and in its place, a note from the Tooth Fairy and a gift of ten New Israeli Shequel. (It was the smallest change the Tooth Fairy had on such short notice...)<br />
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"AHA!" Raphaela showed me, in triumph. "I guess N was wrong about the Tooth Fairy."<br />
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I took a picture of the new gap in her row of teeth, this milestone recorded for all posterity. <br />
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I also noticed that she has another tooth pushing in quite aggressively already, I see that Raphaela inherited my compressed jaw. Time to start saving for braces, I suppose.<br />
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Meanwhile, Raphaela is already anticipating the visit of our next mysterious and magical visitor, The Prophet Elijah, who will visit us the night of Seder and drink some wine while we are sleeping. He might also leave Raphaela a gift and a note, if she finds the Afikoman, the hidden matza at Seder.<br />
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I just hope that Raphaela doesn't do a handwriting comparison between the Tooth Fairy and the Prophet Elijah.<br />
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As an afterthought, Santa Clause has his own song, don't you think the Tooth Fairy and the Prophet Elijah deserves one as well?Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-46920790519222973512016-04-11T01:16:00.001-07:002016-04-11T01:16:52.244-07:00A Tree Grows in Jerusalem, A MetaphorEvery year shortly before Pessach, Raphaela and I sort through her clothing and toys, and decide what she has outgrown. Then, while Raphaela is in school (so as to avoid needless trauma), I donate the items to worthy places in the neighborhood.<br />
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The puzzles and books go to Raphaela's former nursery school, because at age three they helped my daughter recover remarkably quickly from her previous damaging child care environment. Within a week of starting this new nursery, Raphaela had transitioned from a quiet mouse to a talkative, happy and glowingly positive toddler, and I will never be able to thank them sufficiently for that. <br />
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When I walked up to this building yesterday, I could not help but smile. There in the upper courtyard grew a strong and healthy tree, a sapling that had been planted on Tu BiShvat the year that Raphaela attended nursery there, over three years ago.<br />
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I snuck inside the classroom and embraced her two teachers, and they inquired about Raphaela, the girl she is today: "Does she still tell stories all the time?" "Does she still radiate love and give hugs?" "Does she have a beautiful group of friends?" "How is she enjoying first grade?"<br />
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Like that tree, Raphaela has become a complete personality, with strong roots and opinions, and constantly amazing me every day with her warmth and insight. And I am grateful every day.Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-73115289761988321532016-04-09T23:14:00.000-07:002016-04-09T23:14:08.632-07:00Thicker SkinThis past Friday when I went to pick up my daughter from school, I was standing with a mother whose child has been in the same class as Raphaela for the last few years. When the girls came out, I gave Raphaela a hug and then a quick hug also to her friend.<br />
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"I love these girls," I said to the mother, "especially the ones I have known since they were little."<br />
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Raphaela's friend interjected, "That's right, when Raphaela started in nursery and she didn't have any friends, I played with her anyway."<br />
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In the past, I have been accused of being too sensitive or quick to get my feelings hurt. Living in Israel has given me a thicker skin. Being a Mom has given me a whole new set of life lessons in coping.<br />
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So instead of taking this very honest little girl personally, I processed in my head: "I am not a bad mother," I assured myself. "Raphaela did have social anxiety issues when she was younger. We have moved beyond that now. Yay!"<br />
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Once I finished my internal dialogue, I turned to Raphaela's friend and said, "But we're bigger now, right? And now we are past that whole shyness thing, right?"<br />
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Both girls nodded their heads enthusiastically, and we all walked home together.Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-52559531110248796682016-03-30T22:47:00.001-07:002016-03-30T22:47:14.306-07:00How to Start the Day Right"Mommy," said Raphaela with a broad smile, "I would like to buy you from the store and take you home and you will be my Mommy forever. How much do you cost?"Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-37541767906985990772016-03-29T02:17:00.003-07:002016-03-29T02:17:53.531-07:00Only in IsraelWhile driving yesterday, a curious radio advertisement came up on the radio. It begins with a woman excitedly telling us, the listeners, about this great surprise party that her co-workers threw for her. Then the announcer breaks in, and suggests to this woman sharing her story, that she actually communicate with her family, her parents and grandparents. That perhaps her relatives would be happy to hear about her day, rather than random people on social media.<br />
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Apparently there is now a state-sponsored program to encourage people to stay in touch with their loved ones. <br />
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This would only happen in Israel, a country that places family above all else.Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-88245013133325539822016-03-28T07:25:00.000-07:002016-03-28T07:29:50.684-07:00Purim, A Photo EssayAbove all other Jewish holidays in the calendar year, Purim has the beautiful ability to cross lines of ethnicity and religiosity. The whole country, whole families, celebrate the day together; everyone in costume, everyone exchanging gifts of food and giving charity, and all in joy.<br />
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Like any other religion, Judaism should be inclusive and make all feel welcome. Purim celebrates just that, all Jews all over the known world at the time were saved, and most were unaware of the intervention (both human and divine) done on their behalf.<br />
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<br />Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5488433810039574602.post-79013329794967595412016-03-21T23:36:00.000-07:002016-03-21T23:36:06.493-07:00Purim 2016When I was single, Purim held little appeal for me, though I did try to wear a creative costume each year. When you have children, in Israel, the holiday of Purim (officially one day long) lasts close to two weeks, and the joy and anticipation of the kids is infectious.<br />
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On the first day of the month, the school had a Purim Opening Ceremony. There was Pajamas Day and No-Homework Day, and You-Don't-Have-To-Wear-A-School-Uniform Day. In past years in nursery and kindergarten, the menu included Clown Day, Silly Hat Day, Kings and Queens Day, and the like.<br />
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Today, however, the Purim Carnival and Costume Festival takes place. Raphaela woke up at 5:30 am out of pure excitement.<br />
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It is a half day of school with the promise of no academic activity whatsoever. Pizza for breakfast, and a roaming popcorn stand! Among their classmates, the exchanging of Mishloach Manot, traditional Purim junk food gift baskets. <br />
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To top it all off, this afternoon Raphaela and a friend of hers will be hosting a six and a half birthday party. Both girls were born at the beginning of the school year during the Jewish holidays, and did not have a private party because it was school vacation and the start of the school year, when the girls didn't really know each other and hadn't coalesced as a group.<br />
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Raphaela, of course, chose to dress up as Queen Elsa from Frozen, despite my protestations that it was one of the least original costumes out there. She carefully put on her gown this morning, her crown, some eye shadow, an Elsa ring and an Anna bracelet. Raphaela was bedecked and bejeweled.<br />
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When I suggested some faux sparkly earrings as well, she scowled at me, horrified at my apparent lack of fashion sense, and said, "Really Mommy, it is too much. That's over the top!"<br />
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Needless to say, the halls of a Raphaela's school felt like a Disney princess convention.Dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05261212450148255826noreply@blogger.com0